‘Still I Rise’: In the Face of Taliban Education Bans, Afghan Women Long for Justice Commentary
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‘Still I Rise’: In the Face of Taliban Education Bans, Afghan Women Long for Justice

The presumption of innocence is a fundamental principle underpinning the right to a fair trial. This may be broadly understood as a fundamental human right, but its protection is far from universal.

Since retaking control of Afghanistan in 2021, the Taliban has made the systematic punishment of women and girls a core part of its governing strategy. Under the regime’s rule, women are viewed with immediate suspicion — considered guilty until proven otherwise.

Before taking power, the Taliban waged an international PR campaign aimed at softening their reputation, even convincing Western media outlets to publish their op-eds cynically vowing an ultimately false commitment to fundamental rights. No sooner did they take power than they started to chip away at the rights of women and girls — effectively banning their rights to work and study.

Heart-wrenching scenes emerged of women and girls being forced out of universities and schools. These photos showed masses of women leaving their studies, but behind each of these women is a private story of hope lost.

And most of these women and girls continue to struggle each day — enduring veritable house arrest without ever having committed a crime.

Heart-wrenching scenes emerged in the form of videos and photos depicting female students crying in classrooms, leaving university campuses in pain, and gazing at the university buildings and surroundings with regret from behind walls. However, behind each of these thousands of banned female students lies a story of shattered dreams, destroyed goals, and ongoing suffering. They endure punishment every day without having committed any crime.

I spoke with some of these women to document their struggles.

It’s like we’re an alien species; they assume our guilt, and our punishment is to be deprived of education, or work, of life.

— Morsal, 19

“I loved law and believed that everyone in society should study it. If everyone is aware of their rights and duties, they will respect the law and others’ rights, and strive to defend their own,” said Morsal, a young woman who had been studying law at her local university until the Taliban determined, based on its incredibly strict interpretation of Islamic law, that her place was at home.

“As soon as I began my first year, I started preparing for the judicial exam. I hoped to apply for it after graduation to study judiciary.”

Morsal worked tirelessly toward her goal of becoming a judge. As a woman, she believed she was well positioned to bring justice to society. However, with numerous crackdowns on women’s rights, the Taliban closed the university, plunging Morsal’s aspirations into darkness.

“After hearing about the university ban, I was isolated for a month, depressed. I couldn’t eat or sleep well. Every moment, the hard work I put in to reach my goal flashed before my eyes, memories flooding back, tears falling unconsciously,” Morsal said.

Describing her mental health crisis, she spoke of periods of dissociation, which she attempted to combat with documentation of the life she had before. “To confirm the reality of the two years I studied, I tried to obtain transcripts. But the Taliban denied me entry to the university gate.”

Morsal reflects on what she learned in her law classes. “We studied laws promoting women’s rights, gender equality, and justice. In the Taliban regime, these laws and principles are violated as they ignore women’s rights and try to prevent their participation in social activities and the judicial system.”

In particular, she is haunted by the loss of her dream of becoming a judge. “Women are now barred from Afghan courts, unable to access justice or defend their basic rights. The absence of women in the court system today could lead to a significant disaster in the future.”

Nothing will last forever. This period of struggle may bend me, but it cannot break me.

— Sadia, 20

Sadia had been an aspiring physician at Kabul Medical University when the Taliban took power. In a recent interview, she recounted her experience upon learning of the university ban affecting her and her female classmates.

“One night in December 2022, around 10 p.m., I was studying for the final exam of my second semester when I received a message that contained a photo of a decree written in Pashto, stating that girls were no longer allowed to attend university. Upon reading this heartbreaking news, I felt lost and overwhelmed. I didn’t know what to do.”

For someone like Sadia, who had worked hard to pursue her dream of studying medicine at Kabul University, the announcement induced panic and shock. “I felt as if I were drowning in an ocean of sorrow, like a total failure. I tried to hold back my tears, but I couldn’t. I cried until almost midnight, unable to study or sleep the entire night. It felt unbelievable, finding myself in a space devoid of hope or escape.”

“The next morning, I went to the university, where everyone spoke of it being our last day, realizing we wouldn’t be able to return and continue our studies. Some friends were in tears, while others held onto hope, thinking it might be temporary, especially for medical students, given the essential nature of medicine.”

Despite the Taliban’s harsh decree, Sadia held onto hope of returning to university. “As a sophomore medical science student, I used to attend classes regularly and was dedicated to my studies, envisioning myself as a doctor treating patients in the near future. Going to university filled me with joy, despite the restrictions like wearing a black hijab, which I found frustrating.”

Against the backdrop of the Taliban’s crackdown, Sadia finds solace and motivation in her own ways, such as reading the poetry of Maya Angelou.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

— Maya Angelou

As we approach the third anniversary of the Taliban’s resurgence — the third anniversary of the crushing of so many dreams — the perseverance of these women is inspiring. But something has to give. Historically, universities have served as hotbeds for revolutions aimed at dismantling oppressive regimes, much like the Taliban. The Taliban understands that Afghan women, educated in freedom and democracy, won’t passively accept being stripped of their rights and subjected to punishment without cause. They anticipate resistance and foresee a potential revolution led by educated women fighting against ongoing gender apartheid, defending the rights of millions.

Consequently, they’ve shut the doors of universities, effectively cutting off access to education for women and eliminating the potential for educated women to shape the future of Afghan society. This deliberate act aims to stifle any possibility of a progressive and inclusive society emerging from within Afghanistan.

The author is an Afghan legal scholar whose identity cannot be revealed due to security threats. 

 

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