Writing from EmpowerHer | Part 3

What if the Taliban Didn’t Exist?

By Farzana A

I often ask myself this question: What if the Taliban didn’t exist? Would my life, my dreams, and my future look different? To answer, I imagine another life, a life without fear. I see a morning in Kabul, not with fear but with peace. The streets are alive with the laughter of children walking to school. Girls in bright clothes carry their books proudly, knowing that school is their right. Boys and girls sit side by side in classrooms, their eyes full of hope.

In Afghanistan, I would wake up with happiness, not silence. My parents would not worry about safety. Instead, they would think about my future—what career I will choose, which university I will attend, or which city might become my home. My sister, who now stays home, would run to school with her friends. She would return every day with stories about science, literature, and history. She would dream of becoming a doctor. Her world would not be small; it would be wide and full of light. My brother, instead of carrying fear, would dream of building businesses, traveling, and helping people. He would not feel the heavy duty of protecting us.

I imagine walking through Kabul where bookstores are open, cafés are full of young people talking about ideas, and women walk freely. They are teachers, doctors, lawyers, artists, and leaders. Nobody stops them. Nobody hides their light.

In Afghanistan, universities are open to all. I see myself sitting in a classroom full of students, all hungry for knowledge. After class, I would sit with friends in a library or teahouse, talking about literature, politics, and dreams.

Maybe Afghanistan would be known not for war but for poetry, art, and building. Our culture would shine. Our cities would grow. And I would not need courage just to do simple things. I would use my courage to create and achieve. But then reality returns. The Taliban do exist. They have taken away simple joys and futures. They have stolen dreams and silenced voices. But they cannot erase the dream of a free Afghanistan. They cannot take away the vision of classrooms, laughter, and freedom. Afghanistan is in our hearts, waiting to be born.

So why do I imagine this world? To remind myself of what we are fighting for. Every girl who studies in secret, every boy who refuses to give up, every parent who teaches their child hope—This shows that even if they try, the Taliban cannot kill our spirit.

If the Taliban didn’t exist, life would be easier. But because they do, our dreams are stronger. Their darkness makes us love the light more. When I close my eyes at night, I hold on to this dream. When I wake up, I carry it with me. Because dreams, once shared, can become real. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day Afghanistan will become the land we dream of. I write this story with hope.

Why does empowering women matter?

By Sohaila S

When you empower women, you empower a nation in every corner of the world. Women make up half of the population but they are still far from enjoying their life. They can’t enjoy equal rights or opportunity not for lack of abilities but just for gender. This is the reality for many women across the world. Empowering women isn’t just about fairness, it is about building stronger, more resilient and more improved communities. Empowering women means giving them to opportunities and rights they need to control their lives and contribute meaningfully to society, whether it is about education, healthcare, or raising their voice in decision making. There are some points why empowering women matters. First and foremost, education for girls changes everything. Education is every person’s right. When they receive an education they are more likely to marry later and break the cycle of poverty. Education opens the doors to careers, independence, and in decision making, empowered women are better equipped to participate in the workforce, understand their rights, and contribute to their communities and societies. In contrast, lack of education can lead to early marriage domestic violence, girls without education have limited choices, empowering girls through education has a lifelong impact not just on them but also on their families and communities. That can lead to a better new generation. In Afghanistan girls don't have any chance to study, to have dreams, to shape their future. Why? because we are just girls in Afghanistan. Secondly, health and safety also will also improve when women are empowered in societies where women can access healthcare and make decisions about their health and also about their own bodies they have rights to make choice about their own health and well-being and since empowering them can lead to safer and more exclusive health policies that reflects the needs of both gender they play a key role in family and community health empowering women can lead to better society where women have full access in healthcare and are also able to raise their voices. Giving them these chances: raising their voices, access to healthcare can lead to healthier families and a more improved society. Thirdly, and most important leadership and political participation are also essential when women have rights in decision making In societies and in government or in businesses become more inclusive and equitable society, women often bring different priorities such as education health care and support system, studies show that countries with higher female representation leads to have inclusive politics, yet in many parts of the world women are still underrepresented in decision making spaces for example Afghanistan in Afghanistan everything is impossible for women they don’t have participate in workforce, they can’t raise their voices they don’t have access in healthcare and in education in Afghanistan women's basic rights are fully  ignored but they never stayed silent they tried a lot to take their freedoms back they never stayed silent they raised their voices that we are also humans we need freedom, we need to work, to learn, and to shape our future but still we don’t have our rights. Empowering women politically ensures that half of the population has a voice in shaping laws and policies that affect everyone; it helps us to create a more equal and effective government.

Of course empowering women doesn’t mean to ignore men it means removing the barriers that prevent women from fully participation in society empowering women is not about replacing one gender or power with another, but every woman should have the chance to thrive and to contribute and thrive as like the men have, when men have freedom and chance to participate in society so why women doesn’t have they are half of population of a society without women a country will not improve whether it is on education, healthcare anything. Why can boys go to school and learn but we are banned from school, from universities, why they have freedom but we don’t have. Next, very important point that women in Afghanistan face unimaginable challenges not just in Afghanistan but also other parts of the world they are not weak they are our mother, our sister, our teacher, they doesn’t need just sympathy they need more than that they need our support, they need our respect they don’t need just saving they need to be heard, to understand their pains, so it’s time to listen to their pains let’s respect their choices and stand behind them, let’s raise their stories, lets believe in them and please make sure the world sees their shines, changes doesn’t come from silence it comes from unity lets raise our voices for our girls for our women so they can be heard please don’t forget them. In conclusion, empowering women matters a lot because it creates a better environment for everyone and affects every part of society. It improves healthcare and education, reduces poverty and leads to more balanced communities when women are empowered, everyone benefits. A future or a country where women have equal rights and power and opportunity is necessary for the world. And Afghans women are still waiting for the day of freedom, respect and the chance to shape their future. They hide their dreams for many years and many pains that no one could understand, But we are still girls with thousand dreams in our heart and day by day we should never give up and raise our voices day by day more louder and more stronger. Afghan women are humans with millions of hopes and dreams.   

The Girl with the Borrowed Light

By Zarghona N

In the far corner of a small, old house in Baghlan, beneath a roof patched with plastic sheets, 16-year-old Laila sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her mother’s old scarf wrapped tightly around her head. A secondhand phone glowed in her hands, the only light in the room besides the faint flicker of a dying candle.

The Wi-Fi signal blinked weakly. She tapped the screen. The page wouldn’t load. Not again. Laila sighed but didn’t cry. She had already learned that tears didn't fix broken connections or dying batteries. She counted silently ten seconds, twenty until the screen finally stuttered back to life.

A face appeared. A teacher from another country. A soft voice greeted the students. And for the next fifty minutes, the world outside faded. No gunshots. No curfews. No news headlines. Just the steady rhythm of learning — equations, English words, and dreams that dared to stretch past the narrow walls of her life.

Every day, she borrowed the phone from her uncle, who lived downstairs, only for one hour. It wasn’t enough, but she had learned to make it work. Before class, she would spend her mornings helping her mother weave rugs. After class, she would teach her younger sister what she had learned — tracing letters in the dirt, whispering definitions in the dark.

She was teaching herself to become a teacher. Quietly. Relentlessly. Laila still remembered the day school was banned for girls her age. She had come home with books in her bag and dreams in her eyes. By sunset, both had become forbidden.

At first, she was angry. Then numb. Then determined. She found Telegram channels sharing lessons. YouTube playlists in Dari. PDFs of textbooks. She had no formal exams, no certificates, no one to pat her back and say, “Good job.” But she showed up every day anyway. In silence. In shadows. In secret. And even though the world outside didn’t see her, she saw herself. In the mirror, she didn’t just see a girl stuck in a room. She saw someone training to be free.

Her friends called her "the girl who borrowed light", not just because of the one, but because of the way she spoke. The way her eyes sparkled when she explained something she had learned. The way she believed in a future that felt impossible.

One night, the power cut out completely. The phone died. Her class went on without her. She sat in the dark, her fingers tracing the edge of her notebook, and for a brief moment, she felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest.

Then her little sister climbed into her lap and said, “Can you teach me that poem again? The one about the sky?” Laila smiled. Because even without a screen, without light, she still had her voice. And with that, she passed on the one thing no one could ban, block, or take away: hope.

Art taken from: Shamsia Hasani

Alkahest

By Asma H

As long as I can remember, I used to go to school with a lot of passion and study hard to become a pilot. Since childhood, the image of the sky, full of clouds and endless blue, fascinated me, and I dreamed of flying one day. I was always trying to be in the first position in my class, not only because of competition but also because I wanted to prove to myself that effort always pays off. I was naturally curious about everything, which made me ask endless questions to my parents and teachers. I read more books than most of my classmates, eager to discover the hidden wonders of the world. When I grew up, I carried the same passion and the same goal. But when the Taliban closed all the school gates, I suddenly realized that studying is alkahest—the universal solvent that cannot be destroyed. Even when walls were built around us and doors were shut, knowledge remained alive in me like fire under ashes.

I remember that miserable day very clearly as if it is carved into my mind. When the Taliban officially banned schools, ours remained open, and we continued going in secret. It was about 11 o’clock in the morning, and we were studying physics. Lost in the beauty of formulas and forces, the class was deadly quiet except for the steady rumbling of our physics teacher, who was also the principal. Schooling was co-education, and this was another guilt that the Taliban were hunting for. My classmates and I were focused on his lecture, completely unaware of what was about to happen. Suddenly, a sharp knock on the door broke the rhythm of our usual class. It was our headmaster, his face pale and fearful. The moment our principal opened the door and exchanged glances with him, I knew something was terribly wrong. My mind froze. Thoughts buzzed in my head, and I felt as though thousands of bees were stinging my hands and feet. The Taliban had come to inspect our school. We were ordered to go quickly to the basement. I don’t even remember how I left the classroom; my body moved faster than my mind. Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the one before. I prepared myself for the worst, imagining a bullet striking us from behind. The only thing I was truly afraid of was not death itself but my honor, my family’s dignity, and the life I still longed to live.

When I finally reached the basement safely, I took a deep breath of relief. Around me, students were pale and trembling. Some whispered rumors they had heard in society, some prayed silently, and others tried to spread positivity to keep us calm. The fear was so heavy in the air that it felt like another person standing among us. To ease the tension, I forced myself to smile and started conversations with my friends. We spoke about ordinary things—dresses, weddings, cooking, studying, and our passions, as if speaking of life’s normal joys could shield us from the darkness above. After what felt like hours, our teacher came down with news. We could return to our classrooms; the inspection was over. At that moment, we were the most grateful people in the world. It felt like waking up from a nightmare and realizing you are still alive.

From that time until now, I have always reminded myself that no one can stop me from learning. Knowledge is not just information; it is power, resilience, and the very reason I continue to live with hope. Even when school gates are closed, I discover new windows that open toward integrity and truth. I know now that the only thing that can knock me down is hopelessness, and as long as I refuse to give up, my alkahest, my knowledge, will dissolve every barrier in my way.