Welcome!
A moving set of offerings from the Afghan writers this month, including Seeta‘s brave poem about the burqa as both jail and protection, B. Fatima A.’s poem about a suicide attack, Freshta‘s essay about innocent deaths during a U.S. military “night raid,” Shakila‘s look at how returning refugees are remaking Afghan society, and more. Under the mentorship of rotating authors whose work is supported by a strong team of editors (Jordan Schneider, Rachel de Baere and brand-new Bridget Fitzgerald), these Afghan writers provide us with a multilayered and exciting vision of Afghan women today. Please comment on a piece or two today as our courageous writers are grateful to know they are being heard. Take a peek, too, at a new album showing photos taken by our writers.
Monday, May 24, if you are in or near Washington, DC, consider coming to dramatic readings of some of the women’s work in a Theater J performance. Theater director Ari Roth is described by the Washington Post as a “maverick artistic director,” and the readings will be directed by the acclaimed Jessica Lefkow. We’re excited about this upcoming event and Lefkow’s sensitive vision. More info here. Many of the AWWP team will be there and we’d love to see you. Meanwhile, you can hear this podcast of Roya‘s story, “My Sister’s Golden Hair.”
Thanks to the combined intensive work of Terry Dougherty, Kathleen Rafiq and Tahmina Popal, sixteen laptops arrived in Kabul during April to be distributed to AWWP writers who need them. The laptops were paid for in the grant obtained earlier this year by outgoing director Ann Blackman from the Smith Richardson Foundation. We continue to raise money to buy additional laptops and help start Afghanistan’s first women-only Internet café.
AWWP is a year old in May. Thank you for your support over this last year, which has turned this kitchen-table idea into a reality and meant so much to these writers and the entire amazing, all-volunteer AWWP team that I’ve been privileged to get to know. Next month’s newsletter will be coming from Christina Asquith, who is stepping fully on board as AWWP’s Director with both vision and energy. Creative Outreach Director Jeff Lyons continues to pursue theatrical opportunities, so be in touch with him if you have an idea. And if you’re an author who wants to mentor the Afghan writers, contact Elisabeth Lehr.
To follow AWWP news and the work of the Afghan writers, visit our site, join our Facebook fan page, updated by Valerie Wallace, or follow us on Twitter, with tweets from Stefan Cooke at AWWProject.
The soldiers, clothed in special pants and T-shirts, bearded, and wearing masks, climbed the wall of Qarar’s yard trying to enter the home. Hamdullah was sleeping in the guesthouse… When he realized someone was trying to enter the compound, thinking they were thieves, he went to see who it was. The troops fired on him.
Foreign women come to see us,
under burqa, take our picture-
we are interesting, novel for them.
They don’t understand
our burqas are jail made of fabric.
I was so confused when I saw girls wearing shiny, colorful “panjabi,” bright, high-heeled sandals and large, sparkling jewelry. I was supposed to be in an office, not at a party. “Oh my God, I have come to the wrong place for my first interview in Afghanistan,” I thought. I was wearing a navy blue jacket with black pants, which is what I wore in Iran. Later, I discovered girls who grew up in Pakistan usually wear shiny “panjabis” and men wear bright “peran” with “shalwar.”
My First Exam Life became easier once I was able to see more than the walls of my house. But there were still many hurdles, and much that was new and unknown. The first obstacle was crossing the street from my door to get to the main road… It was totally new to me. I felt as though I weren’t wearing any clothes.
I am a poem.
My soul is crazy.
no matter what happens next,
no matter if no one reads the verse of my mad thoughts,
no matter if dust covers my poetry papers,
I am a poem.
(a story about the writer’s brother)
It was raining that Sunday in Dorood. On the way to my family’s home, I was thinking about my escape and what the journey would be like. I felt determined but at the same time, for some reason, the streets and the walls of houses that I could not wait to leave seemed on this day to be so kind and welcoming.
Season Harper-Foxhas published fiction, poetry, and book reviews in Cream City Review, Rocky Mountain Review of Modern Language and Literature, OnTheBus, and Primavera. She has taught at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and the University of Nebraska-Omaha.
When Masha Hamilton asked me to mentor in The Afghan Women’s Writing Project, I didn’t even stop to think it over. I simply said, “Yes.” I had no idea how this experience would affect me, but reading these women’s writings, learning about their lives and the injustices they face based on gender-and because they happen to be born into a particular culture-changed me.
During a recent weekly visit at my parents’, my brother brought up my involvement with this project. It hadn’t occurred to me that my entire world view had already buckled, upheaved, transformed. Not till I began to explain it to my mother, and my voice caught and my eyes filled with tears. I stopped in mid-sentence, surprised.
I told a friend I’d never thought of myself as political. For years, I avoided watching the news, reading the papers, and any reports of bombings or rapes or the nonexistence of women’s rights seemed vague and distant. I thought back to being a child of the ’70s with newsreels of the Vietnam war playing on the black-and-white TV while my family ate dinner. Somewhere along the way-with CNN and regular reports of violence throughout the world-I grew numb to it all, perhaps as a way of shielding myself from the pain.
“But this isn’t politics,” I said to my friend. “This is people. This is personal. It’s women and their experiences and daily lives.” All at once, it became real. These women’s heartaches and hopes and fears came sharply into focus. It was impossible to remain oblivious.
In the U.S. and many other countries, we take our rights for granted. So many of us don’t understand how fortunate we are to speak the words we ant to speak, to freely write our views, to know that our lives aren’t endangered because we express our own opinions.
In the midst of all their hardships, these women strive to be heard. They possess a courage and grace and strength that is phenomenal.
To the women of Afghanistan who participate in this writing project: You capture my heart with your words. I cannot think of anyone else I admire more. Keep writing. Keep creating. You inspire people throughout the world. You have given me so much more than I could ever hope to give back.
With heartfelt admiration,
Season
Ericka Lutz‘s award-winning short stories and personal essays have appeared in many books, anthologies, and journals, magazines, newspapers, and on the web. She is the author of seven commercial nonfiction books. She was a founding editor and writes a popular monthly column, “Red Diaper Dharma,” at the online literary magazine Literary Mama.
My experience mentoring for the AWWP last month was profound. I’ve taught creative writing for fifteen years, yet this was some of the scariest teaching I’ve ever done. As I began my rotation, I wondered how I could bridge our language differences, how I could honor and encourage their efforts yet still challenge and teach them. Our cultures are so different. What if I said something to offend, or to shut down their writing process? Yes, these are concerns I have with all students, but they felt particularly acute because of the circumstances these women overcome every day just to write.
When the work began coming in, I was deeply and consistently moved. Not just by the content and style, but by the sweet and trusting approach these writers took to me. They unfailingly worked hard to revise, to “stretch and squish” in response to my queries. They improved. And in the end, I was reminded of the universal nature of the writing process. All writers struggle to tell their stories. As these Afghan women bravely write-and rewrite-they are like young women writers everywhere telling their truths. Just here, the stakes are higher, because these women are writing for their lives.
Naomi Benaron is an award-winning short story writer and the author of Love Letters From a Fat Man whose work has also appeared in CALYX, Red Rock Review, PRISM International Review, Green Mountains Review, and other journals.
The word that first comes to my mind when I think of my experience teaching Writing 103 is “embraced.” The eagerness, affection and strength of will of these women shines in their words. The level of talent and the dedication to writing–as well as the love of it–came through in every exchange. Now, seeing pieces that I helped guide into readiness up on the blog, I feel like a mother hen puffed up with pride. I miss these women already. I can’t wait for my next rotation.
Contact AWWP:
For more information on the Afghan Women’s Writing Project please contact:
Christina Asquith, Director Phone: 202.230.6729Email: christinaasquith@yahoo.com
The Afghan Women’s Writing Project was begun as a way to allow the voices of Afghan women – too often silenced – to enter the world directly, without any mediation. This project is possible only because of the outstanding American women authors and teachers who generously donate their time and energy. Additionally, the tireless contributions of our Creative Outreach Director Jeff Lyons, webmaster designer StefanCooke, and our technical director Terry Dougherty have been crucial. Photography thanks and credit goes to Kathleen Rafiq and Heidi Levine. Our inspiring partners are SOLA and the Peter M. Goodrich Memorial Foundation; please visit their websites.
Donations
Online Donations for Afghan Women Writers:
Many of our students and women writers, especially outside of Kabul, cannot get to an Internet cafe due to security considerations. A laptop at home and a jump drive would allow them to write their pieces, and then ask a male relative to send the work at an Internet cafe. A $20 donation will buy a flash drive and $500 in donations will buy a laptop for our women writers. No contribution is too small. Thank you for considering it.
The Afghan Women’s Writing Project has filed for non-profit with 501 (c) 3 status. Your donation is tax deductible.
To stay informed about the latest news, events, and other developments with the Afghan Women’s Writing Project, please CLICK below and join our mailing list. We appreciate your support.
Foreign women come to see us,
