This story written by Asma originally appeared on Global Voices on March 16, 2026.
The fate of Afghan girls and women under the Taliban rule closely mirrors the dystopia portrayed in Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Just like in the novel, a religious and extremist regime has stripped women of all social, economic, and human rights.
In the past three and a half years, the Taliban have done the same to us, depriving us of our most basic rights. Why? What is our crime? Being born a girl?
Yes, we were born girls, but we are not criminals.
I remember I was in the eleventh grade, slowly preparing for my exams, when we heard the news: Ashraf Ghani, our fugitive president, had fled, and the Taliban had taken the capital.
For a teenage girl like me, full of dreams and hopes for my education and future, that news was a nightmare — one that hasn’t ended, even after all this time. It is a nightmare I live through both day and night, and it has now become a part of my life — and the lives of millions of Afghan girls.
At first, the Taliban allowed us to take our exams, and we held onto a small hope that schools and universities would remain open to girls. But that hope quickly turned into despair. The gates to knowledge and opportunity were shut tight and have never opened again.
I used to go to the school gate just to catch a glimpse of my classmates, my teachers, my classroom, and even my old school desk. But I wasn’t allowed in. I would stare longingly from afar, then walk home with a lump in my throat.
During that time, I constantly asked myself, my family, and my friends: What was our crime? Why is a girl’s basic and natural right so easily denied? Why must we, as teenagers, mourn the loss of our rights instead of living freely?
I often compared myself to girls in other countries — how lucky they were to attend school, go to university, walk freely, visit libraries — while I, and millions of others, are denied these simple, fundamental rights.
As time passed, the shadow of despair grew heavier. Every girl I met asked the same heartbreaking questions, and none of us had answers.
Because ignorance, by its nature, offers no logic.
It was hard, as a teenager, to climb out of that dark place. But with the support of my family, I found a way. I joined a secret English language center in the eastern city of Herat, but in reality, our brave teachers were quietly teaching English to girls.
After a year of hard work, I achieved an excellent level of English. At the suggestion of the center’s director, I even became a teacher and taught English to girls my age and younger. Gaining knowledge is fulfilling, but sharing it is even more rewarding.
Alongside teaching, I also used my time at home to expand my reading.
I immersed myself in both Eastern and Western literature — “The Useless Sex” by Oriana Fallaci, “The Handmaid’s Tale” again, “Girl, Wash Your Face” by Rachel Hollis, psychology books to reignite hope, spiritual writings like Rumi’s “Masnavi,” and history books such as “A History of the World” by Ernest Gombrich.
I wanted to understand: Were there other nations in history who shared our fate? Or are we just blindly repeating the past?
These books opened my eyes and broadened my perspective on life. Although the longing for formal education never left me, I continued to search for alternatives.
Eventually, I found an online university in the U.S., the University of the People, where I could study for a bachelor’s degree if I met the requirements. I applied to the Business Administration program and, after a few months, received my acceptance letter.
I'm set to begin my studies in April, and I’m beyond excited. Yet, I can’t help but feel a deep sorrow that so many other girls are still denied an education. I wish they could also have the opportunity to study, if not in person, at least online.
I’m lucky; my family has always supported and encouraged me.
My father and mother have always told my sisters and me: “Study first, become independent, and then plan the rest of your life.”
Without their support, I might have remained like thousands of other girls, silent, forgotten, sitting hopelessly in a corner of the house. But with their help, I reached a high level in English, got accepted to an American university, and, God willing, I will one day complete a master’s and even a doctorate.
I dream that one day all families will recognize the importance of supporting and empowering their daughters.
Now, when I look back at who I was three and a half years ago, I realize I’m not the same person. I’ve matured beyond my age, gained wisdom, and grown stronger.
I’m ready to build a bright future, and I’ll step forward — stronger than ever — toward my goals and my dreams.
[VP]
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