
We had a dog we kept for security and we would feed him bread that fell onto the coals. I remember one day when my youngest brother and I were very hungry and had nothing to eat.

We had a dog we kept for security and we would feed him bread that fell onto the coals. I remember one day when my youngest brother and I were very hungry and had nothing to eat.

Men often quote a hadith (a saying) from the Prophet Mohammad in which he asked his daughter, “Who is the best woman?”

Somebody said the Afghan men don’t support their daughters, but it’s not true. They want their daughters to become a success like other girls. My father wants me to become a doctor.

Sometimes the parents think that if a young girl doesn’t marry, it can bring shame to the family, so they send their girls to Khanaye bakht—or Luckiness House—as they believe they should.

In those early days as a refugee when I swept a Pakistani house, I felt I was sweeping the floors with my roots and I would start to cry.

In Afghan culture, if the husband dies, often his wife has to marry one of his brothers. Yalda did not want to marry one of Abdul’s killers.

In a far place, in the most remote alleys of Afghanistan, underground, in the corner of a dark room, for a woman prisoner, life means searching for sunshine.

Most of the time our teacher read us love poems. We were old enough to be thirsty for words about love. It was the only period in our school day when we felt a bit of freedom and fun.

Meena was the youngest daughter of a family of farmers in Behsod, a village in Nangarhar. When she turned fourteen, she was married off to a widower with two sons.

The two girls were handed over to be married to people simply to make peace between the warring families. The girls became victims of this terrible cultural tradition.