My day begins at 7 AM, with the familiar breakfast routine in a house that holds memories of a different life—one where girls like me once had the right to walk freely to school, sit in classrooms, and dream without restraint. Now, in the country I call home, those simple freedoms have been ripped away. By 9 AM, I’m at my desk, logging into the online learning platform of my school in the United States, knowing that while I am lucky to have this chance, I am also painfully aware of what I am missing.
I miss the hum of a classroom, the sound of chatter between friends, and the exchange of ideas face-to-face. I miss the laughter, the collaborative schoolwork, and the simple joy of learning with my classmates. Here, I study English for two hours, then History, carefully following a routine that feels like a thread connecting me to a future that so many girls around me can no longer touch. This online school lifts me, offering a window into a world where education is still possible and I can dream of college and a career. My teachers, though distant, are always there, offering guidance through emails and WhatsApp messages, helping me through every difficulty. Their support gives me strength, knowing they believe in me, even when the world around me does not.
Yet, I cannot help but think of my friends, girls just like me, who are left in the shadows—denied the right to learn, to hope, to imagine a life beyond what the Taliban has imposed on us. As I go through my lessons, I ache with the knowledge that they should be here with me, sharing this journey. They, too, should have the chance to send their homework to teachers and feel proud to learn something new. Every day, I wish for a way to bring them along and have them by my side so we can dream together of graduation, college, and a future full of possibilities that don’t end at the walls of our homes.
After my school work, I take courses focused on various other areas, pushing myself to learn as much as possible while I still can. For moments of peace, I turn to drawing and painting, expressing the feelings that sometimes overwhelm me—the frustration, the longing, the hope. And in the quiet of the evening, I read. Books have become my refuge, my escape into worlds where girls are free to learn to pursue their passions.
As I close my eyes at 10 PM, I am filled with a deep, burning desire not only for my future but for the futures of my friends and classmates. I want them to stand with me, to feel the power of education lifting them as it lifts me. We deserve to graduate, go to college, and follow our dreams—just like any other girl. It is not just my right; it is our right. And as I move forward, I carry their dreams with me, knowing that one day, we will reclaim what has been taken from us.
E. Ahmadi, a current Smart Schools International student based in Kabul
