Today, on the occasion of August 15, a dark day for the people, girls, and women of Afghanistan, I want to narrate the pain, suffering, and restrictions we face. This day revives the memory of the fall of our homeland—August 15, 2021—a day that no Afghan will ever forget. The day my country, my homeland, collapsed. It felt as if time had stopped, and breath was trapped in our chests. That day, everything changed—from Kabul’s blue sky to the kind hearts of its people.

On that very day, when the black flag was raised over our land, the lives of Afghan girls and women also crumbled. From that moment on, the laughter and youthful enthusiasm that once echoed through the streets of Kabul fell silent. The days when we could walk freely on the roads ended abruptly.

That same day, I heard the news of their arrival in Kabul and the closure of schools for girls. I couldn’t believe it. All the dreams and hopes I had built for my future collapsed in an instant. I remember holding my books and notebooks in my hands, staring at their pages with tear-filled eyes. The future I had fought so hard for had suddenly turned to darkness.

The streets of Kabul, once full of life and energy, became empty and silent overnight. My friends and classmates no longer went to school. Our smiles faded, replaced by worry and fear. Every morning, I woke up with the same question: What does the future hold for us?

As a student of Sayed Al-Shuhada School, where a horrific explosion took place in 2021, this day is especially bitter and unforgettable for me. On that day, I witnessed the loss of my friends and classmates. They were torn from life before my eyes, and I still cannot erase those painful moments from my memory.

As a girl who has been stripped of all her rights, whose human dignity is being trampled upon, this narrative is the voice of Afghan girls to human rights organizations and the entire world. I ask: Does the world hear our voices? Does anyone know the conditions in which we are living?

Life under their rule means losing all our freedoms and basic human rights. The girls who once went to school with bright hopes for the future are now imprisoned in their own homes. We are banned from all social activities and even denied the right to education. Every day, we wake up fearing an unknown future, clinging to the hope that one day, we might breathe freely again.

Can anyone truly understand the pain of a girl whose dreams have been shattered? Can anyone imagine what it feels like to be forbidden from even planning for your own future? Instead of enjoying our childhood and youth, we are forced to live in fear, watching everything slip away.

Under their rule, severe restrictions and oppressive laws have been imposed on us. We are forbidden from attending school, from going to university, and from participating in society. The girls who should have been the pillars of our country’s future have been pushed into the margins, rendered invisible.

For me and girls my age, school was life itself. Every school day felt like a door opening to another world—a world where restrictions and prejudices were replaced by knowledge and freedom. But those doors closed too soon. Our books were buried in dust, our classrooms left empty and silent. Every unread page, every lost lesson, took a piece of our souls with it.
Does anyone understand what it feels like to be forbidden from stepping outside to see the sky? Does anyone know what it means to be silenced, unable to raise your voice and demand your rights? We, the girls of Afghanistan, are enduring these struggles every single day, waiting for the moment we can return to our schools.

To be a girl in Afghanistan means living under the shadow of fear and injustice. We are ignored, our humanity denied, our voices unheard. When they tell us we cannot study, they are telling us we have no value. When we are forced into marriage against our will, they are telling us our thoughts and feelings do not matter. With each passing day, we are stripped of our fundamental human rights, and no one comes to our aid.

Have you ever imagined what it feels like when someone tells you that you have no rights? Have you thought about what it’s like to watch your friends in other countries freely study, work, and build a future, while you remain trapped in an invisible prison? We, the girls of Afghanistan, battle these thoughts every day. We face the painful reality that our lives are deemed worthless, that no one is thinking about us.

I wake up every day with fear. Will today be the day they force me into marriage? Will today be the last time I set foot in my home? These unanswered questions push me closer to despair. Yet, even in this darkness, a small flame of hope remains alive—the hope that this nightmare will one day end, that we will once again live, laugh, learn, and build a future.

I am not just one girl—I am the voice of thousands of Afghan girls who suffer under this wounded sky. Girls who have been deprived of all their rights simply because they are female. We have no choice, no control over our lives. Even our right to choose whom to marry has been stolen from us. We are forced into marriages without our consent, without our voices being heard.

We, the girls of Afghanistan, have been denied education, our basic human rights, and a life of dignity and respect. Every day, we wake up to the harsh reality that we are invisible, that our humanity is disregarded. Each moment of our lives is filled with fear—fear of an uncertain future, fear that we may never escape this merciless prison.

Three and a half years have passed since that day. Every moment of these years has been filled with pain and despair. I never imagined I could endure so much suffering. Girls my age have been deprived of education, work, and even the simple right to walk freely on the streets. We have been locked inside invisible cages, with no one to open the doors for us.

Three and a half years have passed, and nothing has changed. They still rule over our land, stripping us of all our rights and freedoms. The laughter and joy of our youth have disappeared.

But in these difficult days, I think of all the other girls like me—girls with big dreams, waiting for an opportunity to fulfill them. Together, we can build a better future. This fight is not just for myself but for every Afghan girl who walks toward a brighter future with hope and determination.

We, the women and girls of Afghanistan, will never lose hope. We will never surrender. But will anyone hear our cries? Will anyone understand what we are going through? These questions remain unanswered. Yet, even in this darkness, we—the brave girls of Afghanistan—have decided not to give up. Instead, we have chosen to seek light and hope.

At the height of this crisis, instead of drowning in despair, we established the Hemdel Scientific and Cultural Association. This association became a turning point for us and our community.

During this dark era, we turned to mosques—not just as places of worship, but as centers for education and progress. Mosques, once solely for prayer, became our new schools. In these spaces, we compensated for the closed doors of schools and invited mothers and daughters to literacy classes. This movement became a symbol of our resilience and determination to continue learning despite all obstacles.

With empty hands but hearts full of hope, we decided to continue our education. Using whatever resources we could find, we set up classes in mosques, giving mothers and girls the chance to equip themselves with knowledge and transform our society.

With the establishment of Hemdel, we not only created a place for education but also a space for solidarity. Through this association, we worked together to improve education and bring ourselves closer to achieving our academic and cultural dreams.

Every day that passes since August 15 reminds us that, through unity and determination, we can overcome hardships and illuminate the path forward. Though schools were closed, the doors of knowledge and hope remained open through Hemdel, reminding us that even in the darkest times, with effort and resilience, we can build a better future.

-Suraya M.
Guest Writer
Girl Museum