t
W
hen the rule of law
functions properly, the
government, individuals,
and private entities are accountable
under the law. The laws are applied
evenly, justly, and without bias; they
are well defined, publicly known, and
stable. In such a way, the law is able to
effectively protect fundamental rights.
The rule of law is the greatest defense
against tyranny, oppression, and
violence. Who would not want to put a
stop to such things?
But if you are unable to read, you can
never know if your rights are secure.
How could you? If I am illiterate,
someone can tell me that I have the
right to free bread every morning or
that I do not have the right to vote,
and I might believe them because
I cannot read the law for myself. If
you cannot read, you cannot hope to
understand your rights, evaluate a
politician’s platform, or protect your
family and property. You cannot rely on
others to defend you. You must take
your education into your own hands. It
is the only way to ensure justice.
— Anisa Rasooli, former nominee for the
Afghanistan Supreme Court, head of the
Afghan Women Judges Association
10 | JOURNEY OF HOPE
I saw my Blue Burqa next to me,
ready for me to wear to school.
My happiness crumbled
like dust under my feet.
I said to myself…
The day will come when I can go to school
freely
Suddenly I saw a child
wishing I could be a child again,
that I would not get older.
I wished for freedom.
I said to myself …
Freedom will come by education
I put on my Blue Burqa.
I went to school.
— Tamana W.
1
These girls and women are fighting with
their pens against entrenched and repressive
traditions that restrict women’s basic rights
and freedoms: The right to have a voice; the
freedom to practice self-expression and to
feel its transformative power. They are silent
feminists in a life and death battle where the
daily struggle is for survival and, by comparison, peripheral concerns fade.
After a monthly writing workshop in
Kabul, we asked several writers to share their
thoughts on the mind-mapping exercise used
that day, or on AWWP in general. One woman, her bright green scarf carefully framing
her worn face, lit up when she was asked. She
began talking, in very broken English, about
the pain the she had carried in her head for
as long as she could remember: physical pain
from emotional and psychological fatigue.
“Every morning I wake up and the pain fills
my head. I have seen too many people hurt or
killed. There is too much loss,” she said (my
paraphrase).
These girls and women
are fighting with their
pens against entrenched
and repressive traditions
that restrict womens’ basic rights and freedoms...
“And then I came to AWWP and you told
me I can write my pain. You explained how
to set my thoughts on the page,” she said,
moving her hand as she spoke. “My pen
began to write my stories, and as I let them
go on the page, the pain, it moved from my
head down through my arm, then my hand
and onto the page. I wrote and I wrote and
for the first time since I can remember, my
head it does not hurt.”
That is the kind of change a woman takes
home to her family and her friends, likely
changing her presence in the community.
Hers is the kind of story that keeps us forging ahead despite the ongoing difficulties inherent with the situation in Afghanistan. In
our work, while we aim to validate the spirit
and voice of Afghan women one by one, we
also empower our writers with the opportunity to share stories on behalf of illiterate
and disabled women who don’t enjoy the
luxury of literacy.
With digital recorders in hand, Manizha,
Majabeen, Malalai, and several other writers
have ventured out to new neighborhoods
and villages to record the voices of these
women as part of the AWWP quarterly Oral
Stories Project. When Fatima visited recently with 35-year-old Goolsboshra, a widow
in Kandahar, she asked her, “What are your
hopes and wishes?” Goolsboshra told her,
(in Dari),
I want to know if Afghan women have rights
or not. It is the story of our life. Our men say to
us, ‘You are women. If you go out of the doors of
the house, we will cut off your head from your
body’…
You came to us to give us this chance, to ask
and answer and to find what is in our hearts.
Our hearts are full of what? They are full of pain
and labor. Our hope is you can collect our ideas
and you can raise our voices.
CENTRAL ASIA INSTITUTE