A Letter to My Government

In August 2021, the Taliban seized control of Afghanistan, marking the beginning of a dark era for the country’s women and girls. Almost overnight, nearly two decades of progress were undone as the group imposed its strict and deeply misogynistic interpretation of Islamic law. The impact has been devastating and far-reaching: millions of Afghan women and girls now face a future devoid of hope. 

UNICEF reports that over a million Afghan girls have been barred from attending secondary school, amounting to three billion learning hours lost. The United Nations has warned of a “generational catastrophe” as these restrictions not only rob girls and young women of education but also increase the risk of child marriage, exploitation, and gender-based violence.

But the crackdown extends far beyond education. The Taliban has effectively erased women from public life. Women are now banned from most jobs, can’t travel without a male guardian, and must adhere to a strict dress code. Public spaces like parks and gyms, once open to women, are now off-limits. This systematic repression has led to widespread mental health crises, with Afghan women and girls reporting soaring levels of depression, anxiety, and despair.

Despite global condemnation, little has changed. Calls for sanctions and diplomatic pressure, along with efforts to recognize gender apartheid under international law, have yet to improve the situation on the ground. Afghanistan now ranks as the worst country in the world for women, according to the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report.

To bring this reality into focus, here is a letter from an 18-year-old Afghan girl sent to More to Her Story three years after the Taliban banned girls’ education.

A Letter to My Government 

- A Girl Who Wants to Go to School 

Dear Governors of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, a.k.a. Taliban,

I'm writing to you in the hope that you will open the doors of the school to us. I'm in grade 12, and I should be graduating this year. I was the best student in my class, a hardworking and intelligent student. I always got the highest scores in my lessons. 

The best moments of my life were all about my school. Every morning, I rode to school with my classmate, who was our neighbor. On the way to school, we would talk about everything, from the Turkish series we watched last night to our teachers and classmates and our dreams. We always tried to be the first students in the school morning line. 

All my teachers liked me. When we didn't have a teacher in our class, the headmaster would ask me to teach my classmates. I liked standing in front of the class and solving math equations or chanting Dari poems. I would have liked to be a teacher, but I decided to be a doctor because of my mom. She is always sick. Because the doctors gave her too much medicine, she is sick again. I want to be a doctor so I can heal my mom.

As an Afghan girl from a middle-class family, all of my good memories are from my school. But today I am writing this letter to you, it has been more than 1,000 days that I couldn’t go to school. I miss my class, my teachers, and my friends. You promised to open the doors of the school to us. I had hope, and I was preparing for the first day of school to see my teachers and classmates after months. Every day, I sit staring at my school uniform, wishing I could put it back on. Last year, I thought: “Why are our school uniforms black?” I hated the color black and considered it a boring color, but since last year I have thought that a white scarf and a black dress are the most beautiful colors in the whole world. I am impatiently waiting to wear them again.

 On April 22, 2022, when my classmate and I went to school, we were the happiest girls in the world. After greetings, we took our seats and waited for our teacher. When our teacher entered the class, she was upset but greeted us with a smile. She said she was happy to see us. Suddenly, she started to cry. She told us we could not attend school anymore because the government wouldn’t allow girls over grade 6. Then everyone in the class started to cry. Our teacher hugged us and told us to be strong. It was a very painful moment. We couldn’t believe what had happened. We mourned for our futures and our dreams. That day was the worst day of our lives.

I’m a Muslim girl, and I know my religion very well. Almighty God said that education is mandatory for men and women. Our prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) said that education is compulsory for every man and woman. Our Prophet’s first wife was a businesswoman. That means Islam didn’t ban education and working for women. There are many strong female leaders in the history of Islam and the history of our country.

Why must we be imprisoned at home in the 21st century? Because we don’t wear Hijab? Because of mixed classes with boys? No man or boy ever taught or studied at our school. 

Please open the doors of our school. Today, I’m a girl, and tomorrow, I will be a mother. I want to continue my education and learn to be a better mother. A better mother can raise a better child.

My generation and I were born and grew up in the war. We lived with daily fear. We always prayed to God not to let us be killed in a bomb or suicide attack. We are very poor, and now three years of our education have been wasted due to the coronavirus and because you closed the doors of the school to us. We beg you to open the doors of our schools and let us learn.

My dream is to become a doctor. My country needs doctors. Thousands of mothers and children die because there are no doctors in their neighborhoods. Or if there is a doctor who is a man, the traditional and extremist families don’t let the doctor visit the women. Poor women suffer from sickness until they die. If you don’t let me attend school or study at university and be a doctor, tomorrow, when your wife or daughter gets sick, you won’t find a female doctor to treat them.

We keep praying that we can go back to school soon, Insha’Allah (God Willing). I’m impatiently waiting for the morning that I hear on the news that I can go back to school and the darkness has ended. Until then, I sleep with hope every night.

- Mahtab, 18, Afghanistan