Anonymously
My sister was 22. She was brave in a quiet way—not with weapons, but with books. After the Taliban closed girls’ schools in August 2021, she started teaching in our basement. Ten girls, sometimes more. They came with notebooks hidden in bread baskets, textbooks wrapped in shawls. They came because they wanted a future.
She never charged money. She only said, “If I stay silent, I become like them.”
Last month, someone told on her. A neighbor, maybe. A man who noticed too many girls coming and going. The Taliban came at night. They knocked so hard it broke the latch. They didn’t ask questions. They just grabbed her books, tore them apart, and dragged her outside.
We haven’t heard from her since.
My mother still sets out a plate for her at dinner. My little brother doesn’t ask where she went. He just looks at the door, sometimes for hours.
They say women must stay at home. But even when we’re inside, they still find ways to take us.
The world should know: teaching a girl in Afghanistan is now a crime. My sister is guilty of giving hope.
