On the Streets of Fear and Resistance: An Afghan Girl’s Story
The “16 Days of Activism” campaign is a global movement aimed at raising awareness and ending gender-based violence against women and girls. Held annually from November 25 (International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women) to December 10 (Human Rights Day), the campaign brings together countries, civil society organizations, and activists. This year’s theme, “United to End Digital Violence Against All Women and Girls,” emphasizes the urgent need to combat online harassment and discrimination.
The Rights Monitor Media will cover the campaign by sharing news, reports, personal stories, and reflections from Afghan women and girls, highlighting their experiences with violence and restrictions.
Kimya, Writer
Tonight, I feel terrible. I don’t even know where to start. Today—what a day! Despite all my sleepless nights, I woke up full of energy and excitement. Normally, if I’m sleep-deprived, I can’t even eat, but today I did. I felt ready to take a step toward an uncertain future, to throw arrows into the dark and hope one would hit its mark.
Through one of my professors, I arranged with the Iranian consulate for my friend and me to apply for a scholarship. We went there full of excitement and gave our interview. Afterward, we walked through the city, talked about which field to study, ate together, and shared our feelings.
I told my friend, “I feel so bad. What will become of our future?” The fear and panic inside me seemed to grow stronger every day. I thought of my mother, who, out of fear, tries to protect me from people who are constantly restricting us. It hurts. And there are countless other pains I carry in my heart.
When we reached the Herat’s Regional Hospital, we first saw a corpse. Then I noticed a little girl holding her father’s hand. She wore a red floral tulle dress, with henna on her hands, feet, and hair—the red of love. From the depths of my heart, I prayed for her: may her life be as beautiful as her dress, and may she never experience what we are going through.
We then went to a greenhouse, which lifted my spirits. I watered the plants and gently touched their leaves. We found a quiet, beautiful spot, drank some juice, and before parting, told each other what an amazing day we had.
Later, I got into a Rickshaw ”three-wheeler taxi” with two women wearing chadors. I wore a long hijab. When we reached the provincial road, the driver told us to put on our masks.
Nearby, a white car was parked. Several Talibs in white coats—like terrifying ghosts—approached. One leaned into the Rickshaw and said, “Why are you giving a ride to women without hijabs? They are in purgatory, and they will drag us along with them.”
The feeling I had… only God and I know. I wasn’t afraid of being taken; I was upset. Why? What had we done? God created us too—we are free beings. Tears filled my eyes. A line from a book I read came to mind: “The Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) said that one day Islam would be so complete that a woman could travel from Medina to Mecca alone, without any male guardian.” Now, women travel alone all over the world, yet these ignorant people say such things.
The woman beside me said, “Because of you, our reputation will be ruined. If anyone sees us, what will they say? Wear proper clothing!”
I felt like exploding. I said, ”They’re saying, at least you don’t speak.” When she didn’t back down, I added angrily, “Stop. This is none of your business.” My teeth were clenched, hands balled into fists.
They held us there for several minutes. As we moved, when it was time to get out, I said, “Please be mindful of how you speak to girls. The ignorance among us is astonishing! We don’t need oppressors; we oppress ourselves. May God guide all of us. How dark our minds are! Instead of holding my hand and saying, ‘Calm down, sister,’ you reacted this way.”
My voice was loud. The driver, listening, said, “See the difference between the educated and the uneducated.” The woman lowered her head.
I went home trembling. No one was there. I fainted. When I opened my eyes, my mother was by my side, but I said nothing, fearing she might forbid me from going out. I called my friend and shared everything, crying and choking back my sobs.
