Fatima Nazari
The memory is still vivid: September 15, 2021. I was in 7th grade when the Taliban shut down our school. That morning, I woke up like any other day, packed my books, and put on my uniform, unaware that my world was about to collapse. That was the day my childhood ended.
Since then, more than 80% of girls in Afghanistan like me have been barred from education under Taliban rule. We’ve watched our dreams fade, our futures thrown into uncertainty. I remember running toward school that morning and seeing other girls walking back, tears streaming down their faces.
“They’ve changed their minds,” someone said. “They won’t let us enter.” I didn’t believe it until I saw the gates myself. We stood there, dozens of girls, crying, confused, and shattered, as the truth sank in.
It’s over, I thought. No more school. No more dreams. Everything is gone.
The months that followed were the darkest of my life. Depression wrapped itself around me. I stayed home, silent, sinking. People said, “This won’t last forever,” but their words felt hollow. Nothing they said could fill the emptiness where my future used to be.
But I’ve come to understand that hope finds a way. I may have been denied a classroom, but I’ve never stopped learning.
The Taliban claimed the closure was temporary—just until a “suitable environment based on Sharia” could be arranged. In March 2022, they even announced schools would reopen. That morning, we rushed back to class with hearts full of hope, only to be turned away again. Another promise broken. Another dream buried.
But something began to stir inside me. After weeks of despair, I realized: if hope wasn’t coming from the outside, it had to come from within. I am that girl—sometimes strong like a warrior, other times broken and lost—but always standing, fighting, and refusing to give up.
I came to understand that school isn’t the only path to learning. It sounds like a cliché until you live it. When your heart truly longs for something, you find a way. Even if a thousand doors close, one will open if you don’t stop searching.
My first step was enrolling in an English course. Getting permission wasn’t easy—I had to convince my fearful family, navigate unsafe streets, and overcome countless obstacles. But that struggle gave me purpose. I dreamed that if I mastered English, I could earn a scholarship, a bridge to the education that was stolen from me.
Through this journey, I’ve transformed. I’ve learned that while I can’t control everything, I can always control how I respond. That losing hope doesn’t change the situation; it only destroys me. And that hardship doesn’t always come to break us; sometimes, it comes to reveal our strength.
One day, we will not only return to our classrooms but will stand in the heart of history as the generation that never gave up.
I’ve gained skills no classroom ever offered: how to face fear, forge my own path, and think freely. I’ve learned resilience, adaptability, and self-teaching. Above all, I’ve learned that there is nothing stronger than determination.
Still, I ache for what was taken. I miss my school, my teachers, and my classmates. I miss the echo of laughter in hallways, the feel of textbooks in my hands. But I no longer define myself by what I’ve lost. Instead, I focus on what I can build.
My plan is clear: continue improving my English, teach at a local course to gain experience and independence, and work toward a scholarship abroad. I dream of becoming a journalist—amplifying voices like mine, speaking truth to power, and helping rebuild a better society.
I once thought my future had vanished in darkness. But I’ve come to understand that hope finds a way. I may have been denied a classroom, but I’ve never stopped learning. This journey hasn’t been easy, and challenges remain ahead. But this is my fight for my future, and it is far from over.
To all the girls who share my fate: we are not victims. We are challengers. The doors to our schools may be shut, but no power can extinguish the light of knowledge burning within us. If there is no path, we will carve one. If we are silenced, we will become the voice. One day, we will not only return to our classrooms but will stand in the heart of history as the generation that never gave up.
