Since the return of the Taliban in 2021, Afghan women correspondents have documented the struggles and triumphs of their lives under the oppressive regime which strips them of even the most basic freedoms—such as leaving the house alone. Through a series of interviews with women from across Afghan society—from students to lawyers—we aim to give them a voice, so that their hardships and the courage of their resistance are not lost to silence.
We interviewed Ms. Sadat who is a young Afghan writer and a nurse. Her passion for storytelling began in 2013. By 2019, she embraced writing and published her first book called “The Cursed Spring.” After the success of her first book, Ms. Sadat published “Dark Love” in 2021. Both books were formally launched on May 26, 2021 at an event hosted by the Ministry of Information and Culture, where prominent writers and civil society activists recognized her contribution to Afghan literature.
This is the ninth in a series of interviews that will explore the many facets of the lives of Afghanistan’s women and girls under a resurgent Taliban. The first in the series can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘We’ve been all but erased from public life’. The second can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘We will continue to resist, to hope, and to fight for a better tomorrow’. The third can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘We, Afghan girls and women, will call for freedom with every breath’. The fourth can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘Afghan women are not just victims; we are strong, resilient, and capable’. The fifth can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘If we don’t defend our rights, this could continue for generations to come. We won’t let it’. The sixth can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘We, the female doctors—once symbols of women’s progress, ability, and independence—are now facing barriers, threats, and silence’. The seventh can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘I don’t want the world to recognize the Taliban. If this happens, women’s rights will be forever violated’. The eighth can be found here: Voices of Afghanistan Interview Series: ‘We have kept hope alive in the heart of darkness, waiting for the day when we can once again raise our voices and be present in society.’
Tell us about your life before August 2021. Were you working or studying?
After years of education, study, and relentless effort, I finally achieved my dreams in August 2021. Nearly four years have passed since I turned those dreams into a reality; those dreams born in cobblestone streets and dimly-lit homes. Dreams that rose with my mother’s pre-dawn tears and fell asleep each night under a sky heavy with sorrow.
I was finally able to publish my book and immerse myself into the literary world by sharing my books and taking my rightful place in Afghanistan’s newly anti-feminist society. My dreams had a sense of flight and freedom from the very beginning—much like the dreams of an independent girl.
In 2021, I began teaching at two private universities. I loved teaching and used my salary earnings to support my family. I carried the weight of the family responsibilities at that time.
How did you learn about the events of August 2021? What were your initial thoughts or reactions?
Before August 2021, there was talk of a Taliban takeover. There was talk of death, and escape. Poverty was rampant. The events that took place a few months before the fall of the Islamic Republic created chaos and panic within the walls of every Afghan’s home.
Everyone waited for the beginning of a bitter end. I remember that afternoon—a dark and terrible day when the fall of the republican government was announced. Markets and roads were deserted. People went in search of shelter.
The chaos of former soldiers and bitter farewells. Mothers screamed for children they couldn’t find. Girls were stopped mid-journey; on their way to school, to university, to somewhere safer. Shops and homes were looted by faceless intruders. Misery hung in the air. Cities fell silent. Women became prisoners in their own homes, and men stepped outside burdened by a hundred fears.
I was so shocked that I did not leave the house for 30 days. Each time I decided to leave the gate of the house, my legs would not move and I would feel sick. After an entire month, with the encouragement of my mother and sisters, I decided to go see the city after the fall. We were unsure of how long we’d be forced to endure this.
When I left the house for the first time after the fall, a lump rose in my throat, and tears spilled with every step. My mother’s words echoed in my ears: “We have to continue. We can’t sit in a corner and let life end quietly; we have to start somewhere.” Terror gripped every alley and street. I covered my face so completely that even my sisters wouldn’t have recognized me. This became the new norm for women and girls. The way we used to wear the hijab was no longer enough to protect our rights or our safety. Wherever we went, we were met with a particular kind of fear, as if simply stepping outside our homes had become the greatest crime of all.
Which of the Taliban’s new policies toward women has had the most significant impact on your life, or on your family or community?
Taking away the right to education, work—especially efforts to exclude us from society and deny the existence and rights of Afghan women and girls—and forced marriages between Afghan girls and Taliban members. With forced marriages, there was no regard for age gaps or for the number of male marriages.
Can you share a story that illustrates how life has changed for women in Afghanistan?
Yes! We felt the overwhelming effects of the Taliban presence and laws every moment of every day. We felt it in the markets, offices, cities, and even during trips.
When I accompanied my mother to the passport office without a mahram (male guardian) with us, I remember the person in charge who read off the names of the people waiting. When he called my mother’s name, I went to him, but he refused to give me the application form because we did not have a mahram present. For half an hour I stood in front of him several times, but it was as if he looked right through me, unable hear my voice. At first, I thought he might be deaf until I realized that he did not acknowledge us because we were women.
Women’s voices are forbidden, and it is now considered “sinful” to talk to women. Women are currently forbidden to leave the house without a mahram. Men avoid talking to us. One man eventually broke his silence and said in a disrespectful, misogynistic tone, “Who allowed you to leave the house without a man?” Even though we, Afghan women and girls, have experienced much worse conditions than these, this incident stood out in my mind. I remember there were three or four of us at the passport office who had gone without men. It took an hour and a half to convince that man to give us our papers. When I finally got our papers, I cried non-stop all day, reflecting on how easy it had been for men to treat us like we were invisible.
Can you describe a moment when you most strongly felt the impact of the new rules?
I felt the devastating impact of the Taliban laws when I was forced to burn my own books during a Taliban house raid. They demanded and I burn and destroy my own works because the books’ content violated Taliban laws and had supposedly caused problems. I was not so much afraid for myself, but for my young siblings, and for my father, who had been threatened because of his previous job in the government. The also made my father destroy his documents.
Another instance was when my sister taught at a school where she earned only five thousand Afghanis (equivalent to approximately $71) per month. She supported our family of seven on this income. Because of the law the Taliban imposed on her, she was then forced to travel back and forth with my brother accompanying her each day, which doubled the transportation fare. The Taliban never cared how a family of seven lived on just five thousand Afghanis a month. It didn’t matter if we were hungry or not; my sister just had to behave according to Taliban rules.
What would you like the world to understand about your current situation? Or what do you think is the most misunderstood aspect of your current situation?
I would like the world to know many things about us. Afghan women have fought this battle alone for years. Despite all the hardships and consequences, we are determined to fight for our rights. We are calling for support at a time when our rights and freedoms have been bargained away, and a heavy silence has been sealed over our struggle.
We want you to know that even though Afghan women are wounded, tired, lonely and disappointed, we still search for the path to freedom with even the faintest glimmer of hope. Before these narrow paths close to us forever, we call on women beyond our borders to join us by becoming the voices we can no longer raise.
What gives you hope or strength in these challenging times?
What gives me strength and hope was my taste of freedom. Whenever I reflect on past events—those thirty days when I thought that leaving the house would be the biggest, most difficult thing I had to endure in my life, and the days when I was forced to burn my works—I find strength and motivation. Each time I think about these things, I resolve to try to publish my work for the second time. I endeavor to make it available to others. What gives me strength is that every time I go to the history book that is my homeland, women are on the front lines. I want to stand firm beside them.
The struggle is not always about shouting in over a screen. Of course, this takes a lot of courage. But sometimes the battle is fought quietly, behind the four walls of our homes. The quiet battles are perhaps the hardest because if you are arrested one day, you have nowhere to run. No one knows you. You are buried silently. Without anyone noticing your presence or knowing how hard you fought. More than anything, I find motivation and strength in that thought because I have to stand up and traverse the path that I have been on for so many years. I must learn to dream again so that I can give hope and motivation like before. Like I am trying to do now. Hopefully, we will succeed.
