The sky above Kabul was a deep, foreboding grey, as if the sun had long ago abandoned us. The clouds hung low, like a mournful veil, casting a shadow over the city’s empty streets forever. This was not the same Kabul I had grown up in, where I had seen hope. The silence was oppressive, a heavy burden that threatened to suffocate me and lots of other girls like me. 

As I walked, holding my seventh-grade books, I felt the weight of this inequality. Looking towards those books, I was thinking of what would happen with my studies, my illegal studies.

Each day, I returned home, my heart heavy with the realization that millions of girls like me were denied their basic rights. Why was education a privilege reserved for boys alone? Was I not capable of learning, of growing, of contributing to society?

The contrast was stark. Boys played freely on the streets, their laughter and shouts filling the air. While girls were invisible, hidden from view. Their absence was a stark reminder of our lost rights and our silenced voices. 

At the end of the street, a young girl, younger than me, walking down the street with a book in her hand. Her eyes sparkled with determination, hopes and dreams, but amidst the shadows, a new power within me refused to fade. I realized that silence was not my destiny. I was not alone. Countless girls, just like me, yearned to learn, to grow, and to thrive.

Together, we can break down the chains of oppression. We can reclaim our rights to education, to laughter, and to life. Our voices, once silenced, can now rise as a beacon of hope. We are the makers of our own destiny. We are the sunshine that will break through the gray skies.

We are no longer invisible… 

-Tahera K.
Guest Writer
Girl Museum

Bio: Tahera K. is Afghan teen refugee advocate for girls’ education and women’s empowerment.