Afghan Women's Writing Project
Look! All my brothers come to my funeral.
Your son is brave.
I am proud of my wreath.
Dear Mother: Don’t wait anymore.
Many men had eyes on Halima and wanted to marry her as a second wife, but they were scared to propose to her since according to the culture, her brothers-in-law had the priority to marry her.
She thought she’d spend her life serving him
Her four children sometimes full, sometimes hungry
She thought just be nice and obey.
I asked my mom if her vote was equal to half of a man’s vote. “No they are same. One man’s vote equals one woman’s vote,” she said.
I stood with the women—old, young, pregnant, and disabled. No one asked how long they would have to wait.
In each of her white hairs, I could see the history, the terror, the fights, and loss. She was hoping that she might get one more chance to vote.
We were scared as we left the house. But when we saw security persons on all the streets we felt better.
I watched the news on the execution-style killing of nine people—including foreigners—in a strongly guarded luxury hotel in Kabul during Nowruz on March 21.
With each step I felt stronger. I remembered my husband’s instructions, but as I got closer, I began to think, Why? Why didn’t I have the right to make my own choice?
As a result of the last election my country has improved a lot. Today women write, appear on TV, and speak on the radio.
History is changed by the small actions of ordinary people. —Zahra A.
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