Anonymously
When the Taliban searched my phone, they found a photo of my wife on the wallpaper. It was a simple image, a personal one. But to them, it was a threat. Without hesitation, they destroyed my phone.
A young soldier, holding a gun, looked at me with contempt and said, “You’re a man, be a man. Don’t take your wife’s photos and show them to people.” He laughed at me and added, “If I see your wife’s photo again in your phone, I will arrest you.”
This wasn’t just about a broken device—it was about control. Our phones, our lives, our every action are dictated by them. What they say, we must do. If they say loving a woman is wrong, we must obey. If they say a woman shouldn’t walk outside, we must accept it. They want to erase any freedom, any expression, any love that doesn’t fit their twisted vision.
The destruction of my phone is a small example of a larger story. It’s a story of millions living under constant fear, with no control over their own lives. The Taliban want to erase our humanity, our basic freedoms.
They can break my phone, but they can’t break my spirit. The world must see this for what it is—an attack on freedom, on love, and on life itself.
