An Afghan Innocent Girl – An Unheard Voice

A girl who cries out, but the world is deaf and does not hear her.

A girl whose tongue is silenced, yet the world is blind and does not see her.

A girl who seeks help, but the world—who calls itself the defender of humanity—remains mute, saying nothing.

I was in the seventh grade of a private school, and my heart was full of dreams. School was more than just a place to study—it was my second home, a place where I grew, where my friends and teachers became my family. I worked hard, always striving to be the best, and I was proud of my achievements, always ranking first in my class. My future felt bright, and every day at school brought me closer to my dreams.

But one day, everything changed. The Taliban closed the school doors. They didn’t want girls like me to learn, to grow, to dream. They wanted to take away the hope I held so dearly. But even after schools were shut down, my friends and I refused to give up. Our principal was strong and brave, holding on as long as he could. For an entire year, we continued to go to school in secret, meeting quietly, holding onto every moment, praying the Taliban wouldn’t find out.

Every day, fear accompanied me. I never took the same route to school, always changing my path to avoid suspicion. I left my books and schoolbag behind, keeping them at school so no one would know I was a student. Those secret days were a small light in the darkness, a final effort to hold onto our dreams.

Then, one day, as I was on my way to school, the Taliban saw me. They came to our school, asking about me. The school’s watchwoman tried to protect me, claiming I was a student from a lower grade. But they refused to believe her, saying I was too old to be a student. They wanted to stop girls from having a future. They wanted to take away everything we held dear.

But it didn’t end there. Throughout that year, the Taliban continued to threaten our principal. They warned him that if he allowed classes beyond the sixth grade, he would face serious consequences. After repeated threats, he had no choice. One day, he came and told us that we could no longer come to school. Even that last glimmer of hope was taken from us.

That day felt like the end for me. It was a day when I felt I no longer belonged in this world. My life felt meaningless. I didn’t want to live anymore because what was left for me in a world that had no place for me? The pain of that final goodbye broke me in ways I cannot describe.

With school gone, the sadness and pressure became unbearable. I became so ill that I felt my strength fading. My mental health suffered—I felt trapped in darkness. My father saw my pain, and I knew how much it hurt him. He tried everything, even searching for a way to leave the country so I could have a future. But nothing worked. We are stuck here, and my dreams feel further away than ever.

Pseudonym: Marina Karimi