By Frozan Frotan
These days, I’m afraid to leave the house. Ever since the Taliban detentions of girls and women began, the crowds in the streets evoke in me a sense of threat.
When I step outside the house, I can’t take a step without looking backwards, without glancing constantly over my shoulder. My father’s warning is always echoing in my ears – be mindful that the Taliban does not detain me so that I don’t tarnish their honor and dignity, so I don’t become a stain on their reputation.
The Taliban’s abduction of women is an unforgivable sin, but it’s women who do the penance. In this landscape, women and girls are both the victim and the guilty. It’s the worst feeling that only a woman can understand.
In the streets where I encounter the Taliban, I feel as if they are lying in wait to catch girls leaving their homes in order to detain them.
When I go to the market to shop, male shopkeepers quickly avert their gaze. Their behavior reveals either fear or disdain towards a simple transaction with a woman.
The only place where I’m treated properly is at the hijab store. There is the only place I feel like I belong. Because these days the only ownership we women have is the black covering and veil.
When I visit a library to borrow books, the librarian asks with sideways glances, “What are you reading for?”
When I hail a taxi, the driver is afraid to pick me up. Many times I’ve walked long distances instead.
Across the street, an elderly man with a thick beard and turban is busy arranging his fruits and vegetables for sale. He talks with each potential customer. But when I approach, I am shunned. He shows by his gestures that I must quickly move away. Biased people and Taliban supporters rarely speak with women. They even consider the presence of women as a threat to themselves.
These days I lead my life in fear of a tyrannical regime. I believe that I cannot rescue myself from the captivity that binds all women in Afghanistan. I feel I will never be free until the end of my days.
Women who dare to venture out of their homes these days are regarded as lawbreakers deserving of disrespect. Boys and men who cross their path never miss an opportunity for humiliation and insult.
When a woman steps out of her house, she is threatened, filled with fear at the sight of the Taliban. If she’s is accused or detained, in the eyes of many families, her life comes to an end. In the streets, women feel they have been condemned to a collective hatred. The hands of predators are more emboldened than ever.
Perhaps these lines I share seem exaggerated or unreal at first glance, but this is the reality of the lives of Afghan women under the Taliban. A quagmire of fear and threat. Fear and threats that have spread from the wide streets into our homes and hearts.
Note: This a personal narrative for which the author bears sole responsibility for the information shared.
