Afghan Women's Writing Project
Let’s move together,
and fight for our rights.
Khadija‘s father was a serious and angry man. He wanted his son-in-law to hold a big wedding party for him and he thought he should buy lots of jewelry for his fiancé.
It is very difficult for a young woman to be a photojournalist in Afghanistan. Every day I face many problems in the city while taking photos.
I was tired when I saw discrimination
between boys and girls in a family.
I wondered then how much pain should I bear,
how much of a victim to be.
Remind me why you imprison me in my home?
Why do you not allow me to travel alone?
“It is either your family or Hekmat,” my family told me. “Choose Hekmat and you should forget us all.”
One afternoon after Fershta and her sisters returned home from school, their father told them he had decided to sell them, one by one, by having them engaged to be married.
Homayra’s husband was dead. The children were young and did not know that their father was gone, yet they no longer had a father to hug them, kiss their dirty faces, and play with them.
When I ask you to take care of our child, you say, “The baby is for the mother”
When we divorce, you say, “The baby is for the father”
Farah is a special place for me—
a small and lovely city with kind, helpful people.
There is no electricity, but there is love.
History is changed by the small actions of ordinary people. —Zahra A.
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