A thousand wishes in my heart,
I am a woman, my emotion
not understood by others.
I want to have a comfortable life,
with my small family.
I want to live,
without worry.
I want to go to my office
without fear for my baby’s safety.
I want to be understood.
I do not want organizations
or people to mark my days.

What does it mean—
the elimination of violence against women?
What does it mean—
while I am only a secondary
part of my community?
What does it mean, when no one
in my village knows about this violence?
What does it mean—
while no one cares to eliminate it?
The governor comes to the stage
and announces his support
for the elimination of violence against women.
Ask him, Where is your wife?
He does not let her participate.
Obama is the American president.
His wife is known to many countries.
But where is ours?
There is the 25th of November,
only a symbol in our country,
We do not want these celebrations
with lots of pomp.
I want someone to understand my emotion.
When I laugh among men and women,
I do not want someone to tell me,
“Shut up—you are a woman.”

When I contemplate something,
I do not want to hear, “Do not do it.”
I am not a child.
Men used to sell me.
Today, they exchange me with animals.
Why? Where is the defender of my rights?
Today, I am banned from going to school.
What is my crime?
Such big punishment for my love of education.
I am the victim everywhere, in every regime.
Talibs closed my school.
The new government did not give me
a position in management.
Why—why? Why?
My father does not understand me.
“What is your wish?” he asks my brothers.
“Father, Father,” I say. “I want to be a doctor.”
He laughs at me.
“You are a woman. You should wash clothes.”
While I run an organization,
I work hard to improve my life.
Before I go to the office,
my husband says, “Clean the house
and wash the dishes first.”
I am pregnant. I must
wash the clothes by hand.
Why? Because I am a woman!
I have to take care of all things,
without considering my rights.
Who is there to know
that I have just two hands?
One for office work, one to care
for my children,
Where is my third, fourth,
and fifth hand to do more things?
Please, please read my poem.
Spread the word about what I am suffering.
I am a woman. I am human woman,
and I want to be respected.

By Seeta