"Recently, I visited a part of my neighbourhood where there's a park. The green space was hived off by concrete walls, iron railings and barbed wire. From inside came the sound of laughter and the happy voices of men and boys. Outside, I saw women of all ages walking on the dusty road, banned from entering the park. I spotted some school-age girls carrying books and pens, talking together and walking the same path I once walked."
"But I felt such sorrow for these girls, unable to pursue higher education or the jobs that they'd be passionate about. Afghanistan is facing a dark time, identical to the one I faced at the beginning of my own career. Once more, Afghan women and girls are being forced to pay the price of their freedom for the country's uncertain future. I know exactly how they must feel. I faced the same struggle more than 30 years ago."
"It started like this: it was the early days of the mujahideen government. I was preparing to record a show at the studios of the National Radio and Television of Afghanistan (RTA), papers spread in my hands, when the new head of television, who had links to the mujahideen, walked in, saw me, and quickly looked away, muttering under his breath in disgust."
A park was partitioned by concrete walls, iron railings, and barbed wire, with men and boys inside and women of all ages walking outside, banned from entering. School-age girls carrying books and pens walked the same path once taken by the speaker, their seriousness evoking the speaker's youth. The speaker attended school, studied a chosen faculty, and built a career despite challenges, and felt sorrow for girls denied higher education and job opportunities. Afghanistan is experiencing a dark moment mirroring earlier repression. In June 1992 the speaker continued working amid bombings but encountered a television director who averted his gaze and opposed women working, saying avoidance would shield him from sin.
Read at Aeon
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