By Mehria Sadat
My name is Mehria, a dreamy and beloved Afghan girl. I was born in 2006 into a world where life is not equal for everyone.
I was the only daughter in my family, so I received the love and attention of everyone around me. Although our financial situation was average, my parents never let me suffer life’s hardships. Because of that, I saw life as a beautiful story and spent my days wandering through a world of dreams and imagination.
Now, as I write this story, I am living through the nineteenth spring of my life.
I was a girl with great dreams. Perhaps for girls in other countries, these dreams are not really dreams at all, but simply a normal part of life and freedom of choice. But for me, a girl living in the patriarchal society of Afghanistan, those dreams were enormous and extraordinary.
When I was seven years old, my family enrolled me in a school near our home.
Although the school was old and worn out, it was, for me, the first step toward a bright future. Even now, I still love that old school dearly, because every corner of it holds the memories of my childhood.
I studied there peacefully until the fifth grade. At the beginning of the sixth grade, we moved to another area, and I continued my studies at a public school there. I was a hardworking and talented student. Alongside my studies, I was also passionate about writing. From a young age, I wrote short stories and children’s poems that were deeply appreciated by my teachers and family.
In the ninth grade, I founded a cultural committee at our school and gathered together students who were talented in art and literature. At that time, I believed I was slowly getting closer to my dreams and goals. But I did not know what kind of nightmare life had prepared for the oppressed girls of Afghanistan.
Ninth grade felt different because, every day, the fear of war and political change grew stronger in our hearts.
War and conflict were spreading across many provinces of Afghanistan, and many of them had already fallen under Taliban control.
During those days, our midterm exams began. We took our exams with restless and anxious minds, and we were unhappy with our results because fear overshadowed everything.
Finally, that dark day arrived—the day when the dreams and ambitions of all Afghan girls were buried deep inside their small hearts.
The day Afghanistan’s history moved backward.
The day thousands of girls experienced death in its truest sense.
Yes, that day was terrifying. We had just completed our final exam and returned home. Only a few hours later, Kabul fell to the Taliban, and the government collapsed.
The sounds of celebratory gunfire echoed throughout the city, but it felt as though every bullet fired into the sky pierced the hearts of Afghanistan’s suffering girls.
Almost five years have passed since that dark day, yet for us, those five years have felt like five centuries.
We spent these years in isolation, and slowly all our excitement, hope, and motivation faded away.
As I remember the hardships we endured during these years, tears fill my eyes.
Why can Afghan girls not live like other girls around the world?
Why has so much misery become the destiny of Afghan girls?
Why does the world not hear our voices?
What crime have we committed?
During these five years, I continued learning through online courses. I learned two foreign languages and studied writing. Now, I want to use these skills to bring the voices of Afghan girls to the world, because not all Afghan girls have the opportunities that I had.
Many Afghan girls were forced into marriage during these years, and some became mothers while they were still children themselves.
Please hear the voices of these young mothers and help us.
All Afghan girls need your support.
Every day, we fight for our right to education. Please stand beside us and do not allow our future to be destroyed.
I ask women all around the world to stand with us and not let our future disappear.
