#NexusTalk | Episode #2 Hosai Nasullah, the founder and CEO of Eli&Ali in Vancouver, Canada, shares her inspiring journey in a conversation with HerStory. She opens up about what motivated her to start her small business, along with the challenges and opportunities she encountered along the way.

نویسنده: آسمان پارسا من آسمان هستم، دختری از شهرِ رویاها یا همان کابل که دقیق در آستانه ی نزده سالگی‌هایش است و انگار که نود سال زندگی کرده است!از پانزده سالگی شروع به فعالیت‌های رضاکارنه در نهاد‌های مختلف کردم و سالیانِ پار تحت سلطه‌‌ی طالبان در هفده سالگی هایم سند فراغت مکتب را به دست آوردم و یک سال تمام ایفای وظیفه نمودم. هنرِ نویسندگی نیز از زمان هایی در وجودم پدیدار شد که گفتند کابل سقوط کرد؛ این سقوط سرآغاز کلماتِ آسمان بود. دقیق سیزده سالم بود که چیزهایی می‌نوشتم و به نحوی آن‌ها را ناچیز می‌شمردم. نوشته‌های من شامل متن‌ها و ابیاتی بود که دوست شان داشتم و هراس از این داشتم که مبادا کسی بخواند شان یا متوجه شوند که چیزهایی می‌نویسم. این ترس اگر چه مضحک ولی در وجودم زیست داشت. الگوهای من در مسیر نویسنده‌شدن و نوشتن دل واژه‌هایم برخی نویسندگان و اثرهای خارق العاده‌ی آن‌ها هستند که در دنیای کلمات‌شان شاهکار کرده اند. نویسندگانی که حتی با اندک جملات شان احساس می‌کنم من در این جهان هستی چند ملیاردی تنها نیستم و بودند و هستند آدمیانی که در یک بُعد دیگر این جهان زیسته اند. الگوی من آن نویسنده گانی هستند که احساس تنهایی‌ام را به دل‌گرمی احساسِ جمعیت بودن تبادله کردند؛ آن عده نویسندگانی که با هر اثر شان ساعت‌ها تفکر می‌کنم و روزها به عظمت جملات شان می‌اندیشم. آن‌ها تعداد اندکی نیستند که نام ببرم، آن‌ها جمعیت نویسندگانی هستند که بسا خرسندم که آسمان شدم و جملات شان را خواندم و نوشتم. اولین نوشته ی که روی کاغذ نقش بست را به یاد ندارم یا هم شاید نابود اش کردم ولی اولین کاغذ کتابچه‌ی نوشته‌هایم حکایت هایی از حال و احوالات اندرون خودم بود و تفکراتم. داستان‌های شب و درد‌هایی که جز خود آدمی و روح سرگردان‌اش هیچ کس دیگری پی‌ نخواهد برد و آن‌چنان  نخواهند دانست. تکه ی از آن متن را که در اولین صفحه جا گرفته است اینجا برای‌تان مینویسم: و «شب» دو حرف ساده نیست !! عمق دردهاست،  صدای غصه ها و فریاد هایی که از عمق قلب‌های مان جان می‌گیرد و هم‌چو دانه‌های قشنگ تجلای رنگین کمان فردا می شوند. ساده نگذریم ؛ شب همان اسطوره‌ی پرهیاهوست که دفن اش کرده ایم در میان خسته گی‌های مان ..!! و زنجیرهایی که به دست و پای دل‌های مان بسته اییم ، شبانگاه بزم آزادی دارند. تمام آن سیاهی را با خیال کسی قدم میزنند که مبادا آفتاب فردا برخیزد و خاطرات اش را دانه دانه برچیند ..!! آری! این شب است ، همان حکایت غم انگیز! همان وابسته به طلوع فردا! و همان آواز غصه‌ها! به باور من کلمات از دل آن قلمی بر روی صفحه‌های سپید می‌نشیند که صاحب‌اش جهان را از بُعد دیگری میبیند و نگاه‌های به ژرف ترین قسمت‌های ماهیت زندگی‌اش داشته باشد. پر معنی ترین کلمات و در نهایت جملات از زبان آدم‌هایی بیرون میزنند که زندگی، دشواری و سهل انگاری‌های شان تجربیاتی را به آنها آموخته باشد! و چشم‌های فراتر از دید اطرافیان شان داشته باشند که جزئیات را ژرف بنویسند. گاهی هم این اندوخته‌ها اندوه ناک هستند و گاهی خموش و بی صدا. هنر نویسندگی نیز میان دست‌ها و قلم ام از جایی نشات گرفت که به گذشته نگاه کردم. به کودکی‌های نکرده ام، به دنیای بزرگ سالانی که من با قدم های شش سالگی‌هایم واردش شده بودم. به آدم‌هایی که هر یک تجربیات و اندوخته‌هایی برای دل و دل واژه‌های قلم آسمان به جا ماندند و پژواک صدایِ کابل و کابلیان، شهری که من در دامان اش زاده شدم و جوانی هایم را نکرده برای آزادی جنگیدم. این هنر دقیق پانزدهم اگست جان‌ها از من گرفت و به خود افزود. کلماتم اندوه ناک شد و اندوه ناک باقی ماند. وقتی نوشتم کابل سقوط کرد دانستم نوشته‌هایم آنچنان جان گرفته اند که قادر اند مرا به گریه بیندازند! و امید‌هایی از آینده گواهی بدهند که هستم و هنوز مینویسم، اکنون برای شما. سقوط کابل تغییرات بی شماری را در زندگی همه مردم افغانستان ایجاد کرد، و من و دوستانم هم از این قافله جا نماندیم. درست مدتی پس از سقوط کابل و برگشت دوباره طالبان به افغانستان، نظریه شروع کار تحت نام یادگار ایده‌ی تیم سه نفره یی بود که هدف مان ایجاد طرح‌های یادگاری و تحفه های دست ساز برای علاقمندان این سبک کاری بود. شرایط فعلی و حکم حکومت طالبان مبنی بر مسدود شدن کار طبقه ی اناث در دفاتر شخصی و دولتی و موسسات غیرانتفاعی یکی از اصلی ترین دلایلی به شمار می‌رود که من و اعضای تیم مارا برای ایجاد یک مرکز فروشات انترنتی ترغیب نمود. ثانیا، نوعیت کاری و طرح‌های یادگار شکل منحصر به فردی را ایجاد می‌کنند که مصمم بر این شدیم که این طرح‌های منحصر به فرد را در کابل نیز قابل اجرا بسازیم. تا بتوانیم زمینه ساز انتخاب‌های خاص در راستای فرهنگ تحفه دادن و ثبت خاطره‌های قشنگ برای هم وطنان خود نیز باشیم. البته که شروع تجارت برای طبقه ی اناث داخل کشور تحت شرایط فعلی کار ساده ی نیست و دشواری های بسیاری را در پی دارد و خواهد داشت. ما این دشواری‌هارا یک بخش تجارت خود می‌دانیم که قرار ذیل برایتان شرح میدهم. در کشوری مثل افغانستان و میان پایتخت‌نشینانی که هنوز کار، شروع وظیفه، تجارت یا هر نوع مصروفیت بیرون یا داخل خانه برای زنان و دختران که مُزد‌ی در پی داشته باشد به نحوی تابو است و هیچ نوع تغییری در ذهنیت مردم ایجاد نشده است، صحبت من این‌جا از اکثریت مردم این اجتماع است که طبق چشم دید خودم برایم ثابت شده است! اقلیت کمی هنوز به این باور هستند که دختران و زنان نیز حق کار و آزادی های شان را دارند. البته صحبت اساسی این‌جاست که ذهنیتی هم اگر ایجاد شده بود در پی این سه سال نابود شد و مردم چنگ انداخته اند به تفکرات نیاکان و رسوم منحرف شده ی ذهنیت‌های عام. حکومت فعلی نام دیگر دشواری‌ست که نمی‌دانم چطور از واقعیت‌های این دشواری بنویسم! ممنوع بودن رفت و آمدهای خارج از کشور بدون محرم شرعی بخش اساسی این دشواری است. ما برای اکثریت مواد و ساختار یادگار های مان نیاز داریم تا مواد اساسی آن را از کشور همسایه وارد نماییم ولی بنابر حکم رژیم طالبانی اکتفا کردیم به مواد دست داشته یی که به سختی‌های زیاد میتوان سراغ شان را از بازا‌ر هایی چون مندوی کابل پیدا کرد که تعداد شان نیز اندک اند. ما برای مکالمات‌مان با مشتری‌ها و خریداران یادگار شماره‌ی سیم کارتی فعال  را مد نظر گرفته اییم تا بتوانیم سرعت کار و سهولت ایجاد نماییم، قابل یادآوری است که در بیست و چهار ساعت یک شبانه روز با مزاحمت‌های مردمی روبرو می‌شویم که تماما از طبقه ی ذکور اند و چون می‌دانند در راس کار دختر خانم ها می‌باشند به این آزار و اذیت‌های تلفنی ادامه می‌دهند، البته که این بخشی از فرهنگ مردمانی است که داد از هوشیاری و تمدن مسخره و ناچیز شان میزنند ولی هنوز که هنوز است قوه ی ادراک ماهیت زندگی و شخصیت شان را به دست نیاوردند. اغلب این قسمت ماجرا برای من غم انگیز و غم ناک است. ما برای پیشبرد و رسیدگی خوب به مشتریان خود نیاز به مرکز حضوری فروشات مان داریم که بنابر دستورات حاکمان فعلی، ترس ها، ریسک پذیری خانواده، و در انزوا قرار گرفتن ماهیت مونث بودن در سرزمینی چون افغانستان نمیتوانیم این بخش را به واقعیت گره بزنیم. این دشواری ها خود زمینه ساز تبدیل در بند بودن به خلاقیت های ماست. از این زاویه نگاه می‌کنیم تا دوام بیاوریم و رمقی برای ادامه دادن با تمام این دشواری ها را داشته باشیم. « یادگار» آن‌چنان که از نامش پیداست یادگار و یادآور روز هایی خواهد  بود که چه سخت زندگی های مان را زیسته اییم و با هزار و یک رویا دفن شدیم در دل بلند پروازی های مان. «یادگار» همان اسم قشنگی خواهد بود که برای مان یاد آور شود چگونه از بند انزوای دردناک بلند شدیم و حداقل کاری که در توان دست های هنرمند ما بود را به واقعیت مبدل کردیم. آرام و قرار نگرفتیم. جنگیدیم! آن هم سخت جنگیدیم و خلاقیت را از دل بی همه چیز بودن های مان بیرون کشیدیم. من «یادگار» را در تصورات و خط‌های واقعیت ام در بلندای اسم اش میبینم. تا آن زمانی که یادگار دیگر پشت شیشه‌های موبایل کاربران باقی نماند و مبدل شود به خاص ترین مرکز تهیه ی تحایف و هدایای دست سازی که بوی عشق و محبت و همدلی میدهند. «یادگار» را در بزرگترین شهرهای این کره ی خاکی می‌بینم که دختران‌اش دیگر کنج اتاق شان کارگاه ندارند و خیلی آشکارا توانستند به صدها هم نوع خودشان دست یاری دراز کنند و یا هم در راستای تحقق آرزو‌های‌شان کار کنند. من «یادگار» را نه تنها در کابل، بلکه در بلخ، تخار، بدخشان، نورستان، قندهار و بغلان این وطن می‌بینم. من «یادگار» را در سی و چهار ولایت این دیار با آزادی دختران‌اش و هم‌دلی همراهان‌اش می‌بینم. از یادگار و هنر نویسندگی‌ام که کمی دور شوم معمولا روز‌های تکرار در تکرار ام را با کتاب خواندن و نوشتن میگذرانم. هر دو به نحوی اندکی آرامش به روز هایم می افزاید و زندگی برای فردا را قابل تحمل تر می‌سازد. با رنگِ عمیق حجاب سراپا سیاهم نیز گاه و بیگاه کوچه‌های کارته چهار را قدم میزنم و با یک کتاب جدید به دست به کنج اتاقم برمی‌گردم. تا از یاد نبرم در اوج سال‌های حکومت جهل ما نسل کتاب به دستانیم که هر سطر زندگی‌مان جلوه‌های روشن و مبارز آینده خواهد بود. سمت دیگر هم خانواده ام است. همان خلاصه ی داشته ها و نداشته های یک انسان. در میان خانواده‌ی هفت نفری من، هیچ یک از آن‌ها نمیدانند که آسمان می نویسد و نوشته هایش رنگ و بوی از تفکرات‌اش هست. ولی آنها همان‌هایی هستند که در تمام مسیر، تا همین آستانه‌ی نزده سالگی‌هایم حامی و حمایت‌گر دخترشان باقی ماندند و مشوق لحظه‌های زندگی‌ام بودند و هستند. انکار نباید کرد که خانواده‌بودن در کشوری مثل افغانستان دشواری‌های خودش را دارد ولی شاکرم که آن‌ها برایم دست های حامی بودند که هر وقت نیاز شان داشتم دلگرمی قشنگی ایجاد کرده اند از بابتِ پناهگاه بودن و شانه ی امن بودن شان. و سپاسِ مادرِ و پدرم که مرا، مادران و پدرانی که یک نسل، رزمندگانِ شجاعی را تربیت کردند که میدانم در آینده ی نه چندان دور افتخار خواهند شد. کمی هم از آرزو‌ها و رویاهایم برای بعد از بازگشایی مکاتب و دانشگاه ها در افغانستان برایتان بگویم. رویاهای من، آرزو ها. وقتی به این دو کلمه می اندیشم تصویر سیاه و سپیدی روبروی چشم هایم ظاهر میشود که انگار از صد ها سال پیش تنها همین عکس شان را با خود دارم نه جسم زنده و نفس های‌گرم شان را. با آن هم من از این عکس سیاه و سپید به یاد دارم که می‌خواهم با به دوش کشیدن تمام آزادی هایم، با به دست گرفتنِ شور و شوق و اشتیاق ام، وسط دانشگاه کابل، روبروی دانشکده ی حقوق و علوم سیاسی بایستم و به این عکس سیاه و سپید و آرزو‌های مادرم برای دخترش جانِ دوباره بدهم. می‌خواهم قانون بدانم تا برای حق و عدالت و حقوق صلب شده از شروع نوجوانی‌هایم دوباره بجنگم. تا مبادا هیچ دختری در آستانه‌ی هفده سالگی هایش حق خوانش و خواندنِ کتاب هایش صلب نشود و او در حسرت چادر سپید مکتب‌اش اشک‌ها نریزد. می‌خواهم قانون بدانم و به رویاهای نوجوانی های مادرم سلامی دوباره بکنم و با افتخار به دست بوسی آن دست‌هایی بشتابم که در این روز های سیاه آنچنان برایم یاد آوری میکند که آرزوی دانشکده ی حقوق از یاد هایم نرود. میخواهم قانون بدانم تا برای حق و عدالت و حقوق صلب شده از شروع نوجوانی‌هایم دوباره بجنگم. تا مبادا هیچ دختری در آستانه‌ی هفده سالگی‌هایش حق خوانش و خواندنِ کتاب‌هایش صلب نشود و او در حسرت چادر سپید مکتب اش اشک ها نریزد. می‌خواهم قانون بدانم و به رویاهای نوجوانی‌های مادرم سلامی دوباره بکنم و با افتخار به دست بوسی آن دست‌هایی بشتابم که در این روز های سیاه آنچنان برایم یاد آوری می‌کند که آرزوی دانشکده ی حقوق از یادهایم نرود. و در اخیر، منحیث دختری که این درد را زندگی می‌کنم و نفس می‌کشم، آنچنان که هنوز وسط جاده‌های کابل قدم برمی دارم برای تمام دختران این سرزمین می‌خواهم بنویسم: اگر می‌خواهید اشک بریزید برای ساعت‌ها، انجام اش دهید. اگر می‌خواهید دردمندی تان را فریاد بزنید، انجام اش دهید. اگر می‌خواهید به قوی بودن ادامه ندهید، پناه ببرید به آغوش خودتان و برای چندی قوی نباشید. ولی پس از تمام اشک‌ها، دشواری ها، فریاد ها، قوی نبودن ها؛ استوار، آن‌چنان برخیزید و میان آرزوهای تان زندگی کنید، آنچنان به علاقه مندی‌های تان چنگ بزنید که انگار آن اشک ها شوری های قدرت تان بوده و آن فریاد ها شعله های آتشینِ قوتِ درون تان و آن یک آغوش چادرِ غیرتِ آرزو‌های تان. من و شما پیله هایی هستیم که روزی پروانه خواهیم شد. من و شما کاربن هایی هستیم که تحت فشارِ روز های دردمند مان به الماس های کمیاب این سرزمین مبدل خواهیم شد. خدا قوت!

#NexusTalk | Episode #1 Note: The show is in Farsi but has English subtitles. Auto translation is also available in tens of languages. Maryam Masoomi is the leader of the Sound of Afghanistan (SA) music group in Saskatoon, Canada. She works as a Youth Programs Coordinator with the Saskatoon Open Door Society, a settlement organization that helps newcomer refugees integrate and start new lives in Saskatoon. When the Taliban took control of Afghanistan on August 15, 2021, Maryam, who was then the assistant of the SA music group in Afghanistan, played a crucial role in coordinating the evacuation of nearly 200 at-risk Afghans to Canada. Now calling Canada home, Maryam is known for her active engagement in social activities within the Afghan community and beyond in Saskatoon.

Born and raised in Kabul, Afghanistan, Zhala Sarmast recently graduated from Yale-NUS College, where she earned a Bachelor of Science (Honours) in Physical Sciences, with a concentration in Chemistry, and a minor in philosophy. She is the co-author of two books, Redefining the Rules and #MyVoice (Vol. 7), and an active member of Afghanistan's National Women's Cycling team. Zhala is also a passionate musician, and she advocates for social change through her diverse interests. Currently the Communications, Technical Content & Marketing Strategist at SepPure Technologies in Singapore,  Zhala spoke to HerStory's Communications Manager last week. She walked us through her inspiring journey, sharing how she balanced her busy schedule as a school student in Kabul, pursuing high academic dreams with her love for music, media, and cycling, amongst other responsibilities. Zhala joined the Afghanistan Cycling Team in 2013, initially unaware of its existence as the team kept a low profile due to safety concerns. She learned about it and was introduced to the team while attending a concert and cultural event at the French Institute in Kabul. Despite initial reluctance from her family due to the country’s security situation, she eventually made it to the team. "I did not know the team existed because, back then, there was only a little coverage. The team also kept a low profile, at least around 2013, understandably because of all the safety concerns and issues associated with women’s sports. There used to be a lot of concerts and cultural programs in Kabul around that time. I was attending the Sound Central Festival when I went to backstage to explore and see what was going on. There were many booths and organizations representing their work when I encountered the cycling team. I was pleasantly surprised and tried to learn more about it.  I was, then, introduced to the coach and was surprised that this team was active." - Zhala Sarmast Cycling was arguably considered a taboo for girls at the time, and thus, it was not openly welcomed by many around the city. Thus, Zhala and her team were constantly training in the outskirts of the city and districts, such as Salang and Bagram to avoid crowds and potential attacks from people.   Zhala later made it to the national team, and she participated in many national and international competitions, including the South Asia Championships in India, the L’Albigeoise in France, and the Afghan Women’s Road Championship in Switzerland, amongst many others. Due to her demanding academic and professional life, the Afghan Women’s Road Championship was the last competition in which Zhala took part, but she hopes to restart her sports activities soon. Zhala's diverse interests in sciences, sports, media, and music have profoundly shaped her career path and current endeavors. Thinking back upon her journey, she reflects on the privileges she had in pursuing her passions, acknowledging the limited opportunities many girls face in Afghanistan. Recognizing the impact even small acts can have, Zhala emphasizes the importance of advocating for women's rights and leveraging one's platform to empower others, particularly in scarce opportunities. Sahar: How has your diverse range of interests, from sciences to sports to media and music, influenced your career path and the work you do today, particularly your focus on women empowerment? Zhala:  I am at the very beginning of my professional career, and for sure, all my activities have influenced what I do today. Growing up, I was immensely inspired by my family’s deep involvement in media and television, and that’s how I started growing an interest in media and journalism. I later worked with National TV, Ariana News, Zawia Media, and many other media outlets which expanded my views and interests. At the same time, I gradually developed an interest for the hard sciences, particularly chemistry and physics, which are the subjects I, then, pursued in college. Given that I had a strong background in media and journalism, and was passionate about the hard sciences at the same time, I was lucky enough to land a job that allowed me to concentrate on both. Sports and music have also always been of great importance to me. My family has always been deeply involved in music and protecting the musical heritage of Afghanistan. For instance, my grandfather Ustad Saleem Sarmast founded Afghanistan’s first symphony orchestra amongst his many other historical accomplishments. Later, after the first Taliban regime had silenced the country for years, my uncle returned to Afghanistan as the first Afghan to ever earn a PhD in music. He founded Afghanistan’s National Institute of Music (ANIM), talking about which is beyond the scope of our interview. So, although music has been a passion I’ve been mostly pursuing on the sidelines, it is something that has run in my family and that I love very deeply. So, I think one way or another, all of my engagements and activities have shaped the path I am pursuing today, but, like I said, I am at the very beginning of trying to figure out my career path, and I am, thus, trying to navigate through all my activities to see if I can consolidate them in the best possible way.   About women's empowerment and activities of social impact, I think we all need to try to commit to such initiatives regardless of where we are, who we are, and what we do. Observing the situation in Afghanistan, particularly for women, should be sufficient enough for us to learn that we need to speak up for human rights. No matter what we do, those of us who have had the opportunity to get a good education or find employment or other opportunities abroad have a lot to give back to our community. Unfortunately, Afghanistan is in such an indescribable place today that even the smallest contribution makes the biggest impact, and we need to be cautious not to overlook that.   Zhala was also a nominee for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2016 for her exceptional efforts and dedication to empowering women through sports in Afghanistan.   Zhala:  We were nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2016 for our efforts to empower women through sports. I see great potential in the power of sports. When I first joined Afghanistan’s National Cycling Federation, it was incredibly challenging. Every training session came with its set of challenges involving verbal abuse and physical attacks. Some of these attacks have been so severe that they have even left some of my teammates living with life-long injuries. Regardless, when I fast forward to 8 years later after I joined the team, I see the great impact that we had as a team. If we compare 2013 to 2021, we’d see great change. By 2021, we had many girls riding bicycles for fun or as a means of transportation. It was much more normal than when we first started. We can also observe similar progress in different areas in Afghanistan.   Sahar:  Definitely! The cycling and other teams, like the women's football team in Afghanistan, brought significant changes in our communities and instilled hope in our people, particularly our girls, enabling them to envision participation in such endeavors. Moving to the next question, how did you and do you now balance your interests and responsibilities, such as cycling, music, and your professional career? Zhala: It was definitely not easy. When I think back of my high school years in Afghanistan, I cannot believe that I managed to focus on so many things. As a student, I would wake up at 4:30 AM for my cycling training. By 7:30, I had to be at the Goethe Institute for my German language classes. I would then go to school by 9, end school by 2:00, and go to Ariana News where I worked by 3:00 pm. I worked until 9:00 pm. When I returned back by 9:30 pm, I would study for a few hours, do my homework, and rest. It was very difficult, but because the impact was tangible and I enjoyed the work, I loved every second of it all.   I think I still struggle with trying to balance all of these activities. It is difficult to manage three significantly big goals each of which requires a lifetime of commitment. I think I know that the key is prioritizing, and I have done that to an extent, but I am still trying to learn to navigate through this.   Zhala has also co-authored My Voice Volume 7, where her story focuses more on her work for Afghanistan. She wanted to keep Afghanistan in the spotlight amidst all the challenges and at a time when the country has been pushed to the sidelines. Zhala finds it crucial to keep talking about Afghanistan, raising our voices for what matters, and highlighting human rights violations. The more we talk about it, the better. We have a platform that millions of women in Afghanistan do not have, and it's our responsibility to use it to raise awareness and hopefully make an impact. - Zhala Music has been a powerful and influential tool not only in promoting social justice but also in bringing Afghan people together, especially after the collapse of the Taliban's first rule in 2001 and before their return to power in 2021. Zhala elaborates on the intersection between music and social activism by drawing upon Afghanistan's musical landscape over the past few decades. She highlights music's potential to positively impact society, serving as a tool that fosters healing. However, she also laments the current state in Afghanistan, where music, despite its therapeutic power, is illegal and banned. "And if we take a look at the impact that music has had historically, and particularly after the first Taliban regime, we can see the substantial impact it had across Afghanistan in bringing people together & nurturing talents and career paths. Following the fall of the Taliban regime in 2001, Afghanistan experienced a significant revival of its musical traditions and achievements. Afghan musicians, both those who had remained in the country and those returning from exile, worked incredibly hard to restore and advance the nation’s rich musical heritage. The establishment of institutions like the Afghanistan National Institute of Music (ANIM) was a key moment in this cultural revival. ANIM provided comprehensive music education and became a symbol of hope and progress across the nation. Additionally, the country’s groundbreaking musical achievements were historical highlights, such as the formation of the Zohra Orchestra, the first all-female orchestra in Afghanistan, which gained international acclaim and showcased the resilience and talents of Afghan women, consequently, the country also made history by being the region’s first nation nurturing female orchestra conductors. These efforts have been recognized internationally, and hence were awarded many prestigious awards, such as the Polar Music Prize in 2018, often referred to as the "Nobel Prize of Music”. Beyond ANIM, the Afghan music scene saw a flourishing of talent and innovation through various platforms and programs. Television shows like "Afghan Star" and “The Voice Afghanistan”, popular singing competitions, provided a stage for aspiring musicians to showcase their talents and reach national fame. The show not only entertained but also inspired a new generation of artists, promoting diverse musical styles and enabling a sense of unity and national pride. Unfortunately, years later, Afghan people are once again facing a similar oppressive reality. Music is banned, and those who listen to or make music are threatened. Since the Taliban's takeover in 2021, many musicians have been killed, and many more have been forced to flee the country. Those who have sought refuge abroad are struggling to rebuild their lives from scratch, often without the resources to continue their musical careers. The trauma experienced during the previous Taliban regime is being relived, causing immense cultural and personal loss”, says Zhala Sarmast.   Zhala parallels the challenges faced in music with those in other realms, such as cycling, highlighting the common barriers of family dynamics, economic constraints, and social disparities. Beyond her professional engagements, Zhala also finds joy and balance through her personal interests. She engages in activities such as cycling, drawing, and playing music with friends. Sahar:  Let's move beyond your professional life and explore your personal life. In your free time, tell us a little bit about your hobbies and interests.  Zhala:  I cycle a lot in my free time. Unfortunately, though I love living in Singapore, the country is small and not ideal for cycling. I still do cycle. Then, of course, there is always music. I play quite a lot of music in my free time and sometimes get together with friends for it. I used to play music with my friends in Afghanistan, but unfortunately, now that we are scattered all around the world, the only way for us to make music together is virtually, so I try to do that sometimes as well. I also read quite a bit, draw, and try to explore new coffee shops. Sahar:  That is brilliant. Can you also briefly tell us about your family? How has your family influenced your journey, and if you name one person, who is the one person you admire the most? Zhala:  My family has been the cornerstone of my journey, providing unwavering support and invaluable encouragement at every step. I'm particularly grateful for the profound influence of two remarkable individuals: my mom and my uncle, Dr. Ahmad Sarmast. My mom, an electrical engineer by training, faced immense challenges as a single mother raising four children in Afghanistan after losing my dad to cancer when I was five. Her unwavering determination to provide us with the best opportunities despite the odds is a constant reminder of the resilience and bravery of Afghan women. Her life is a testament to the indomitable spirit that inspires me daily. My other inspiration, my uncle Dr. Ahmad Sarmast, has left an indelible mark on my academic and personal choices. He has not only pursued his passion for music but has also dedicated himself to reviving Afghanistan's cultural heritage. After earning his PhD in music at Australia’s Monash University, he returned to Afghanistan and the impact of his work since his return is so significant that I could talk about it for days. His resilience, bravery, passion, and advice have constantly guided me forward. Your strength, resilience, and courage are immeasurable. Remember that your voice, your dreams, and your rights matter deeply. Stay connected with one another, support each other, and hold onto hope. Make the world see you, stand with you, and believe in your power to inspire change.

Robina grew up in the beautiful city of Mazar-e-Sharif, where she discovered herself, cultivated hobbies, and fell in love with writing. She would spend days after school writing to clear her mind, articulate her thoughts, and enjoy her talent. Forced to leave Afghanistan, she now resides in Germany, where she continues advocating for her peers' right to education back home and runs a non-profit organization providing free online education to them. Only a few weeks before the fall of Kabul to the Taliban, rumors spread that the Taliban were closing in on Mazar-e-Sharif, Robina's hometown. At 16, she felt scared for her safety and that of her family. “I remember my last day of school in Mazar-e-Sharif. I didn't have a good feeling that day; I wanted to spend more time with my friends, stay at school longer, and see all the roads on my way home. I felt like I was about to leave the city the next day,” says Robina, her voice trembling with emotion. Upon arriving home, she found her necessary belongings, including her clothes, packed. “I have booked a flight ticket for you,” her mother told her, asking her and her sister to leave Mazar-e-Sharif. It was a shocking event she had not expected. “I have an exam tomorrow, Mom,” Robina protested. “You either have to leave, or you will be married to a Taliban soldier if they arrive in the city,” her mother replied. The Taliban had forced many girls into marriage, and with her family's background in civic activities and journalism, Robina's and her sister’s safety was at risk. After discussing the threats posed by the Taliban's potential control of Mazar-e-Sharif, Robina and her sister reluctantly agreed to leave for Kabul. They assumed it could be the best option amid many uncertainties. “When I was packing my belongings the night before my flight, I wondered what to do with my mini-trunk where I kept all my writings, which I hoped would one day become a book,” explains Robina, who had been passionate about writing since the 5th grade. “It was difficult to leave it behind. I could only take a notebook of my writings with me to Kabul.” Unforeseen Fall: Adjusting to Life in Kabul “I wasn’t doing well at all,” says Robina, worried about her education and leaving school. “For the week that schools were open, and schoolgirls were attending their exams, I watched them from the kitchen window of the place where we were staying in Kabul,” she explains, describing how painful and heartbreaking it was for her. Robina had just settled in the city, becoming familiar with its workings, when Kabul fell in August 2021. “As I watched the President flee the country on the news, it felt like our hope was instantly destroyed. The news took us back to 20 years ago when our mothers were not allowed to get an education. I couldn’t believe it at all,” narrates Robina. “For a while in Kabul, I didn’t want to study at all. I felt completely hopeless and life was dark,” recalls Robina. “I started picking up my notebook and writing,” she says, trying to comfort herself, believing that things would get better and that she could go back to school in Mazar and reunite with her friends. When the chaos subsided slightly, Robina enrolled in a tutoring center and began taking classes. She found the people and her classmates in Kabul to be friendly. Although it wasn't easy, with time, Robina accepted what had happened. Despite the adverse situation, she knew she could not stay silent. “I was trying not to let the barriers affect me,” Robina resumed writing about her thoughts and feelings during those challenging times. Amid shattered dreams and fading hopes, she wanted to share hope for the future with her community in Kabul. She reached out to media outlets, despite Taliban restrictions on women appearing on TV, to talk about potential opportunities and give hope to other girls that even if they were banned from school, they could find alternatives to shine. Robina was interviewed by well-known media outlets in the country, discussing her passion for writing. While in Kabul, Robina learned about an online school where she enrolled as an 11th-grade student. She took steps to raise awareness about this opportunity for other girls who were out of school under the Taliban. “I was going to a tutoring center and spreading information about this opportunity for other girls,” she connected with the online school organizers to encourage girls to enroll. “I worked voluntarily with the school, connecting with girls across the country, even in remote areas,” says Robina, who helped girls with basic digital literacy. Exile in Pakistan: Continuing the Fight With the Taliban imposing more restrictions on women, Robina had to leave Kabul and move to Pakistan with her family. While leaving her country was another painful experience, she was more determined than ever to make a difference. “Upon my first day in Pakistan, I went out looking for tutoring centers teaching Afghan refugees,” Robina explains. “I found a center and started teaching English to Afghan refugees.” In Pakistan, Robina joined political discussions on social media platforms such as Twitter Spaces, where politicians, activists, and even Taliban members participated. She continued to be interviewed by media outlets about the situation of Afghan girls being out of school. “I wanted my voice to be heard.” Robina decided to take action. After discussing the idea with her family, she created Girls on the Path of Change (GPC), a network and platform to help Afghan girls support each other. “I created the social media pages and GPC’s logo,” explains Robina. “I began with an online session where schoolgirls could share their stories, hopes, achievements, and challenges.” She shared an announcement in WhatsApp groups she was part of. “Twenty girls from Ghazni, Kabul, Ghour, Balkh, and Baghlan joined the session,” Robina says, explaining how it encouraged her. “We want to stay connected and work together,” the girls told Robina, illustrating how the network grew as they brought more girls into the GPC network. Now, Robina holds online classes with volunteers from around the world, all working together with the belief that small actions can lead to great results. After 15 months in Pakistan, Robina and her family finally moved to Germany. “I know the journey ahead is filled with challenges, but there are also opportunities which I am grateful for.”

Lamar Zala Gran is the founder and president of Empowering Afghan Women (EAW), a nonprofit organization serving young Afghan women by providing them with online classes and educational resources to thrive and acquire essential knowledge for their future careers, amidst the Taliban ban on girls over the age of 12 from attending school. Lamar is an education, women's rights, and youth activist and student at Berea College in Kentucky in the United States where she continues to expand her knowledge and skills to serve her mission better. Lamar grew up in Kabul, where she witnessed firsthand the obstacles that hindered access to education, including poverty, cultural norms, and security concerns. Her journey as an activist is deeply rooted in her dedication to education rights, especially for Afghan girls and women. Since the fall of Kabul in 2021, she has been actively raising awareness about the situation of women in Afghanistan and has met with figures such as Hillary Clinton and the U.S. Ambassador in Doha. In her spare time, Lamar finds solace in cooking Afghan dishes, exploring music, and enjoying outdoor activities like hiking. In her conversation with HerStory's Communications Manager, Sahar Maqsoodi, Zala offers an engaging look into how her activism began, sharing her personal experiences, her driving passions, and her hopes for the future. Maqsoodi: Please briefly introduce Lamar to us. Gran: I was raised in an educated family in Kabul, Afghanistan. I graduated from high school there and then enrolled at the American University of Afghanistan (AUAF). Currently, I am running EAW and am a first-year political science student at Berea College in Kentucky. For the past four years at EAW, we have been teaching English to young women. However, due to the Taliban takeover, we shifted to online classes covering subjects like English, computer skills, math, and various workshops on capacity building and leadership. We aim to equip them with essential knowledge for their future careers, especially amidst the ongoing conflict in Afghanistan. Maqsoodi: You are a women's rights activist, and your activities on social media speak to that. Please tell us a little about your journey in activism and how it started. Gran: I started my activism journey as an education rights activist, which has been challenging in Afghanistan's current situation. Being a female activist is often considered taboo in our society. When I founded my nonprofit, I researched the educational challenges faced by girls and women, including poverty, full-time labor, child marriage, and security concerns, all leading to high dropout rates. During the republican government, literacy rates were higher, but now they're declining, exacerbated by factors like menstrual taboos. Personal experiences, such as losing my right to education under the Taliban, fueled my activism. Because I was a woman, I felt the impact when the Taliban took over, stripping away our rights to education and freedom of speech. We were forced into hiding, and our achievements vanished overnight. This forced me to speak up, and activism helped me share my story and lighten the burden of women's experiences. This is how I show the world what's happening in Afghanistan. I'm committed to bringing policy reforms and ensuring Afghan women aren't forgotten amidst global conflicts. Lamar started empowering Afghan women, facing challenges such as lack of resources, recruitment, and resistance from pro-Taliban elements. Despite personal struggles, Lamar remained committed to education, providing learning opportunities for Afghan women. She relocated from Afghanistan to Qatar and then to the United States, balancing work, academics, and activism. Despite the emotional and physical toll, Lamar remained steadfast in her commitment to education, demonstrating resilience and determination in her journey. Maqsoodi: What inspired you to become a women’s rights activist for Afghan women, particularly focusing on their right to education? Gran: My activism is inspired by my personal experience and the plight of Afghan women. In seventh grade, economic struggles limited my access to education. I couldn't afford tuition classes, and opportunities were scarce. Moreover, even with resources in the US, I can never forget those in need back home. I urge fellow youth and Afghan nationals to unite for this cause. My motivation comes from the injustices my people face. My own experiences fueled my determination to create change. I established Empowering Afghan Women to provide free education and advocate for women's rights. My love for my country and its people drives me forward. Maqsoodi: Let's move out a bit from your activism journey and explore your personal life. Tell us about your family and the environment you grew up in. What values and traditions were important to your family when you started going to university or when you began your work? Gran: My mother graduated from Kabul University and later became a high school teacher for over 20 years, while my father was a writer and activist. Their influence sparked my journey into activism and education. They supported me immensely, even sending me abroad for education in 2022. When I left Afghanistan, my father accompanied me to the border, a bittersweet moment for both of us. Their pride in my achievements has been constant, whether getting a scholarship to Berea College or pursuing further education in the United States. I have two educated brothers who also value higher education. Our family places great importance on knowledge, education, and progress, instilling in us a love for our country despite our refugee status. I am passionate about activism, constantly seeking new opportunities to make a difference. I work at the Center for International Education while studying political science. I plan to minor in law, peace, social justice, or economics, reflecting my diverse interests. My family's liberal and modern values have always supported my endeavors, from attending the American University of Afghanistan to pursuing education in Qatar and the United States. Their firm support has been priceless throughout my journey. Lamar enjoys a variety of hobbies that bring joy and relaxation to her life. One of her favorite hobbies is cooking, particularly preparing Afghan dishes, which she delights in sharing with friends from diverse backgrounds. In her alone time, Lamar finds peace in music. She is considering taking music classes to learn how to play instruments like the piano, guitar, or violin. Lamar also enjoys hiking, especially during the fall season, immersing herself in the beauty of nature. Additionally, she is interested in watching Korean dramas and movies related to politics and the court system. Hanging out with friends and playing card games like Mafia are activities that Lamar finds both enjoyable and relaxing. Maqsoodi: What personal quality or aspect of yourself are you exceptionally proud of, beyond your achievements and activities? Additionally, is there someone in your life whom you admire the most? If so, why? Gran: Well, honestly, I'm very proud of my resilience. Despite facing challenges or criticism, I am highly tolerant and can quickly move on. My confidence is another aspect I take pride in. I'm not overly confident, but I'm confident in expressing my thoughts and opinions on various topics. Additionally, I'm proud of my determination. Even if I fail multiple times, I continue to give my best effort because I'm stubborn and don't give up easily. As for someone I admire most, it's difficult to choose just one person. Many individuals have influenced me differently, but if I had to pick one, it would be my parents. They have constantly supported and inspired me to pursue my dreams and always believe in me. Their resilience, kindness, and unwavering love have shaped me into who I am today. However, my mother is one person I am grateful for having her.  She's a strong woman, navigating the challenges of this world with remarkable resilience. I've come to understand that being a woman requires patience, especially in the Afghan society with traditional taboos and diverse expectations. Despite these hurdles, my mother has courageously juggled work, provided for our family, and ensured the education of her three children. Maqsoodi:  That is brilliant. Living abroad can be challenging and stressful. What is the one thing that keeps you motivated when you feel exhausted or disappointed? If you had to mention only one thing. Gran: The one thing that keeps me motivated is to reunite with my family because it has been two years since I have been away from them. During this time, I've encountered rough treatment and discrimination from some people. However, the prospect of seeing my family again in the future is what drives me to study hard and work towards making something of myself. Their love and support inspire me to persevere and succeed, ultimately aiming to contribute to their well-being and happiness. "I know the time is tough, but I am sure you all can get through it. This time will pass. All those beautiful moments that we used to have will eventually come back. Stay brave! Don't lose your courage and hope."

Muzhda Akbari is an 18-year-old Afghan girl who was forced to leave Afghanistan following the takeover of the country by the Taliban in August 2021. She has shown the courage to build a new life from scratch in Canada. Despite all the challenges of establishing a new life, Muzhda is not only trying to turn them into opportunities, but she also continues to support her fellow Afghan girls in Afghanistan and advocate for their rights that are taken away in Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. Muzhda is the founder of CodeGreen Afghanistan, a web-based platform with the mission to provide free and accessible online educational resources. As an activist, Muzhda passionately advocates for what is important to her and the world we live in: ensuring everyone enjoys their rights as humans. She finds joy in reading books, occasionally playing the rubab, a traditional Afghan musical instrument, writing, photography, and coding. In this interview, HerStory’s President, Nila Ibrahimi, sat down with Muzhda to share her life story with us and our readers, describing the inspiring journey she has undergone. HerStory: Let's discuss your passions: playing the rubab, writing, photography, and coding. Could you share more about these interests and what motivates you to invest your time in these activities? Muzhda: When I try anything, it serves as a kind of escape from other challenges. For instance, when I began playing the rubab in Pakistan, I was grappling with a lot of depression and various issues, not only in Pakistan but also in Afghanistan and around the world. The decision to start playing the rubab made me feel deeply connected, especially to Afghanistan, as the rubab is our national instrument. Also, when it comes to writing, I love it. Writing serves as an escape from all of my emotions; it's a way that I can organize my mind and write about things that I love. Photography is another passion of mine—when I take photos, I believe each one tells a story, and I love that aspect. As for coding, I started it primarily to experience the joy of education, and it has become something very special for me. This led to the start of Code Green Afghanistan. Currently, I am studying different subjects at school; each of them is also an escape from something else, yet, at the same time, it’s a way for me to truly feel myself. HerStory: Moving to another country can trigger flashbacks that will make you miss every moment of your life back home. So tell us about your early childhood. How would you recall your childhood, where you grew up, and, of course, the specific memories that you might miss? Muzhda: Yeah, oh, about my childhood—so I grew up in Badakhshan, and most of my childhood was there until I was 13. Then, due to the war and other circumstances, we moved to Kabul. Back in Badakhshan, I was raised by my grandparents, and we lived in a very village-like place; you can call it the Village of Chapchi Makhdar. Growing up there, I had many good experiences that make me happy when I recall them. I'm so glad I had those moments. For instance, I used to be quite a naughty kid, always getting into trouble. I led a group of ten girls in our friend circle, and we were very close. We used to do many crazy things. One memorable incident was when we went to a madrasa (a religious school for younger kids). One day, I suggested, 'Let's make those bombs,' similar to the little things boys our age made for fun. They would put it in paint, color it, and explode when they mixed it with water. The boys used to do that. I told my friends, 'Let's do the same thing!' So, one Friday during prayer time, my friends and I made those and placed them around the mosque. When it exploded, people came, assuming it was boys who did it. They went to the boys and asked, 'Why did you do that?' They denied it, and it became a funny memory. I recall that because I was such a troublemaker, and I love that curiosity. We were so eager to try different things, even crossing the river, although it wasn't okay, we did it—crazy things, and I love that. Another significant part of my childhood was growing up in a village. That, in itself, has its own story—the people's reactions, the way they talk, the way they live. It's very different from the city, and I think that was a big part of it. Besides that, the relationships and connections we had—I love that part too. Being that curious and a bit of a troublemaker. HerStory: Great story. To go through the activism and talk about that, what inspired you to start your journey of activism? Could you walk us through your journey? Muzhda: Of course, when it comes to activism, a big part of it is our life in Afghanistan. The fact that we are girls and grew up in Afghanistan means that activism is a way of life. We had to be activists, speak out for ourselves, and stand up for ourselves, or else we'd be limited and isolated. Many moments led me to stand up, and that standing up inspired other girls. That was the drive. As I mentioned in an interview with the Society Inspired Podcast, my childhood best friend, Shamila, was forced into a child marriage. That experience shook me so much. We spent so much time together, and I knew how talented and amazing she was. Unfortunately, she was forced into marriage, limiting everything. Right now, she has two kids. I am so sad that her children might go through the same situation. It feels so bad. But other than that, as I mentioned, for me, activism was a way of life. For example, there were times in school when my teacher said something about girls that I wasn't okay with. I stood up, raised my hand, and said, 'Miss, that was wrong. You shouldn't say that.' So, that itself was a form of activism. For instance, whenever I had a chance to speak out, like at my school programs, I used to write an article about girls' education. I used to be known for feminism; the teachers would be surprised because not everyone was like that. But I always said I was very passionate about it. This passion stemmed from my childhood best friend and the experiences I had in that village, where things were very different. But I think activism started that way, and even now, I feel like every day is a kind of battle for us as women. Even here in Canada, we have to stand up and speak up, not only for ourselves but for women all over the world. The starting point would be that, but it is a continuous journey. HerStory: Could you tell us about your transition into life in Kabul from Badakhshan? How has that taught you? You mentioned that your experiences in the village have made you stand up for yourself, so if there are examples or something like that you want to share, and then your continued journey in Canada—how do you stand up for yourself here? Muzhda: So back in Badakhshan, as I mentioned, I was raised by my grandparents, so I was very attached to them. After some time, wars started happening. The situation in our village was getting worse day by day. The Taliban were coming, and there were conflicts every single night—battles between the Taliban and the former government. The sky was filled with the sounds of explosions and bullets, which looked like stars, but they weren't stars. So, that was the life that we had. There were nights, I recall, when we had to hide. We had a specific room where we used to go every night when the situation got worse so that we could hide. That was a significant part of my childhood, living through war. Then, my parents moved to Faizabad, the capital of Badakhshan, while I was refusing to leave my grandparents; I used to cry a lot. They called me, saying, "Come, the situation is bad; we can't take the risk." So, I had to leave my grandparents behind. So, we went to Faiz Abad. In Faiz Abad, I experienced a different life. For the first time, I was in a classroom with boys. It was very strange for me, but seeing women doing different things was inspiring. I saw a woman driving a car for the first time, which felt weird but also empowering. Throughout my journey from a small village in Badakhshan to going to Faizabad, one of the things I learned was how important it is for women to stand up for themselves. For example, seeing women driving a car challenged the traditional norms I grew up with in the village. For instance, back in that village, I never thought a woman could drive a car. The idea of driving was mainly associated with men and masculinity. But seeing women do that taught me the importance of breaking those rules and standing up, changing the perspective of young girls like me. It changed my whole life, and now, when I think about it, those experiences have become the fundamental forces of my activism. When we, as women, do something, it opens doors for millions of other girls in Afghanistan and around the world. That was a big lesson I learned during the transition, and I also learned how important it is to be adaptive. Adapting to new environments is crucial. For example, when I first joined a class full of boys, it was strange and awkward at the beginning. I was shy, but I learned that I have to work hard and study so I can get those good marks. That became a significant part of it. There were a lot of lessons, but as I said, these experiences taught me a lot. HerStory: What was your school in Kabul like? Was it co-education or not? Tell us about your school in Kabul Muzhda: Yeah, so in Faizabad, as I mentioned, it was my first experience being with boys in the same classroom. When I told my friends in Kabul, they were like, "Okay, you were studying with boys in Badakhshan?" and it was surprising to them because in Kabul, most of my school classes were with girls. Only courses outside of school, like English, were for boys. When I started going to my English course, it was a very good experience because my sister and I were the youngest students in the classroom. Most of our other classmates were men who were working with the government and for different companies. I have a very good memory from this class. So, every week on Saturdays, we had to prepare a speech and speak in front of everyone. On these Saturdays, it was only boys standing up, not girls. And in our class, there were about 45 students in a classroom, with only five girls. I remember once that I prepared the whole week to stand up in front of the classroom and read my speech one Saturday. To my surprise, it turned out very well. My teacher was happy, and everyone was clapping. It was a great experience. What happened after that was even more inspiring. My sister stood up the next Saturday and read her speech. The following Saturday, more girls stood up. After some time, my teacher acknowledged, "Muzhda, you did something very good in the class," and I was very glad about it. Through that experience, I learned that when you try to do something, you should remember it is not only for yourself; you will pave the way for other girls. HerStory: Brave of you. Is there anything else you'd like to share about your activism? Could you describe how you engaged in activism in Afghanistan, both during your journey in Pakistan and after you arrived in Canada? Muzhda: So, activism for me started in school. I began participating in various events and programs. For instance, whenever I had the opportunity, I wrote articles and delivered speeches on topics related to girls' education, women's rights, and participation. It all started from there. Shortly after, I delved into different organizations, particularly international ones. I discovered UNICEF, and I began working with them, contributing articles, and participating in programs. I reported on various issues concerning girls' education. Subsequently, I initiated a small project called 'Kindness for Children by Children.' I collaborated with my sisters, and together, we collected used books, notebooks, and clothing, distributing them to children working on the streets. For example, we would choose a day during winter and visit a park in Kabul, bringing children's books to read stories to them. We continued this not only during the winter but also in spring. Following that, I was on the verge of becoming one of the youth ambassadors of UNICEF Afghanistan. Unfortunately, on August 13th, 2021, on the day of my interview, I received an email stating that the situation wasn't favorable, and although a rescheduling was promised, it never happened. During our time in Pakistan, after learning that the Taliban had prohibited girls from pursuing education beyond the sixth grade, I organized protests with a group of women. We gathered in a park in Pakistan and protested against the Taliban's ban on girls’ education. Another significant action in Pakistan was visiting a refugee camp. I collaborated with a group of activists from Pakistan, and together we visited a refugee camp due to the situation in Afghanistan and also to speak out against the Hazara genocide. Lastly, I embarked on my coding journey. As I learned to code, I endeavored to connect it with activism, and it turned out to be an inspiring experience for me. HerStory: Being an activist requires a significant amount of time and can be emotionally draining. How do you manage to balance your activism with your school responsibilities, considering that school also requires a lot of time and energy? Muzhda: It's really hard to balance it, really hard because, when it comes to activism, you have to be emotionally involved with what you do and what you say. For example, when talking about what's happening in Afghanistan, you have to be very consistent; you have to keep posting about it and keep learning about what is happening there. This is on top of being in grade 12 and handling all the subjects—math, all the assignments, and quizzes. Sometimes it's very overwhelming, and I feel burned out. But I think a big part of it would be planning—trying to plan out, for example, most of the time when I have something regarding my project, CodeGreen Afghanistan, I tend to do it around the weekends so I can have time. For example, I would dedicate my whole Saturday to CodeGreen Afghanistan and my activism. I will plan out, have some meetings with my team, and all those things. But mainly, it's a constant battle for the school to keep up with all the assignments and quizzes. As I said, it's hard, but I think sometimes it's also important to prioritize. For example, if something is happening in Afghanistan, how can I make sure to at least dedicate one hour of my week to raising awareness? That's what I do. But at the end of the day, it is hard to balance, but it is what we have to do HerStory: You mentioned that to be an activist, you need to be emotionally involved with your work, which can sometimes be very hard. Do you have any tips for all the other activists out there who might feel overwhelmed after some time? Muzhda: Exactly. As you say, right now, for example, what you are doing is interviewing different women and experiencing different lives, and again, you are feeling every experience because it's like a flashback. Sometimes we say words and emotions are not real, but I say that, no, they're so real. You kind of relive them again. I think it is hard, and a big part of dealing with it would be, as I said, being emotionally involved. But I think channeling it as a reflective journey might change the perspective. For example, in my activism, I feel overwhelmed sometimes, but what I tend to think about is the big picture. What I'm doing is for a very significant reason, for a much bigger purpose. It will help other girls. It would help someone else. So, I tend to think about that. HerStory: Tell us about August 15th, 2021. Do you recall how that day went for you? Muzhda: Every time I talk about that day, it's like reliving it. For example, I still remember it being August 15th, around the afternoon. I was sitting on my balcony, the small balcony in my room, reading. Then suddenly, someone started knocking on the door very loudly. I ran up and tried to open the door, thinking it was my uncle saying, 'Come on, we have to leave the house.' Because I heard... It was shocking for me because what? The Taliban are here. As I mentioned, I was planning out that interview, literally working on a book. We also had our mid-year exams coming up. I was so prepared for so many things that I never thought about the fact that one day the Taliban would come. Even though the situation was bad—Kabul and the provinces were under Taliban control—I was refusing to believe that. It was so hard for me. On that day, my father was away. So, it was only me, my mom, my sisters, and my little brother and sister. We had to leave the house because if the Taliban found a group of only women living in a part of town, they would not accept that. We went to my uncle's home, and we spent one week there, hiding because my family was also involved in activism, also with the government. Even before, we couldn't go to school by ourselves because we received death threats. There would always be someone to take us to school. Once we received that news, it was very shocking. We spent one week trying to figure out if there was any chance we could get to the airport. Then one day, someone called us and said, 'Come to the airport. There is a plane going to Pakistan. You should come.' So, we went there, and I think you also know what the situation at the airport was like. It was so bad. We found a plane and were able to get to Pakistan. But that day was overall so hard that sometimes, I can't even find words to describe my feelings. For me, as I said, it was like the end of the story. I felt like I was living in a movie and couldn't believe that suddenly, everything changed. HerStory: You said you got on a plane to get to Pakistan. How was that experience when you arrived in Pakistan? Muzhda: So yeah, when we went to the airport, we waited a lot to find a way to leave the country. There were suggestions to try for a plane to the U.S., which was a common idea at the time. Everyone was saying, 'Go to the airport, and you might find a plane that lands in the U.S.' Though we didn't pursue that, we did find a plane to Pakistan. Fortunately, we already had visas because my father, who was going to India, had obtained visas for all of us to Pakistan beforehand. Upon arrival in Pakistan, as I mentioned earlier, we didn't know anyone, so we had to find a hotel right after landing in Islamabad. Since there was no organization supporting us, we secured a place, bought furniture, and established a new home in Pakistan. It was a good feeling, but at the same time, we were uncertain about our future. We wondered what would happen tomorrow. After about a week in Pakistan, we started exploring refugee applications, and applying for programs in the UK, America, and Canada. Finally, after a year, we received the news from Canada. Reflecting on our time in Pakistan, it was a mix of emotions. Personally, we all felt a sense of loss because of our deep connection to our country. Constant thoughts about what was happening in Afghanistan weighed on us as our family members were still there. On the flip side, I felt a sense of happiness, finding some peace. The way people in Pakistan reacted to us varied. Some were happy and welcoming, while others were a bit harsh. We faced challenges in finding a house and went through many experiences there. During an exit interview with Pakistan’s Ministry of Interior before leaving for Canada, we encountered a harsh interviewer who disrespected us a lot. I won't delve deeper into it, but that airport experience remains something that, even now, when I recall it, brings tears to my eyes. Other than that, moments when I saw Pakistanis showing love and kindness made me feel so happy and loved. Through this experience, I realized how important it is that, for example, if one day I would be in a position to choose between kindness and hate, I would always choose kindness HerStory: To talk about transitions, could you describe what a typical day looked like for you before the Taliban in Afghanistan and now in Canada? Let's go through that a little bit, discussing pieces of your daily routine. Muzhda: Back in Afghanistan, I believe I was extremely productive. In a way, when I reflect on it, I realize I was more productive than I am now. Perhaps I had more time or energy back then. In Afghanistan, I used to wake up early in the morning and engage in activities like reading and writing. I also practiced meditation, influenced by a productivity guru on YouTube, particularly Ali Abdaal, and other productivity influencers. At times, I would set up a camera on my balcony and record myself, pretending to be a YouTuber while I meditated, wrote, and read. It felt gratifying. Afterward, I would go to school, attend two courses (English and math) after school, and return home to complete my homework. I considered this routine to be a significant part of my identity. I was a hardworking student at my school. However, after moving to Pakistan, I experienced an identity crisis. Coming to Canada was initially challenging, as I had been away from the formal education system for a year. I had to adapt to the new system and teaching methods. Currently, in Canada, I have to wake up early because school starts around 8:30. Fortunately, I enjoy waking up early. I go to school, come back, and engage in numerous assignments and quizzes. This year, I had to study for an exam almost every day, particularly for math tests. That's basically my routine – going to school, managing schoolwork, and also participating in other activities like activism, writing, and reading. While my daily activities have changed, it's just a typical day for a student. HerStory: Thank you for sharing that. What keeps you inspired and motivated when you have days feeling low? So to talk more about this question, there are so many issues coming up after leaving your homeland. Defining yourself becomes a challenge, and finding your place in an unfamiliar country is a journey in itself. What are some challenges you have faced, and how have you coped with them? Muzhda: We all actually feel low at times, and as I mentioned before, one of them is that identity crisis. It's very hard to accept who you were before and what has happened now. The transition between two different countries, two different cultures, two different situations, and accepting what is happening in Afghanistan. I also felt survivor’s guilt, feeling like I have all these opportunities, but then, at the same time, it is hard thinking about what is happening in my country. My friends and my classmates are dealing with a different world right now. That also adds to the fact that we become very unmotivated. But I think one thing that motivates me when I'm feeling alone is to think about the bigger picture; to think about that purpose that I have, and actually, thinking about the bigger 'why,' why I am doing what I'm doing is also important. And, as I mentioned before, whenever we do something, it opens the door for others. So, I also think about that. Okay, if I'm doing whatever I'm doing today, it's going to help others. Something else that helps is self-care. I think self-care is also very important. For instance, after hearing the news about the genocide in Palestine, I was very involved in it for a while, and I was watching video after video, and then I found myself very hopeless and overwhelmed. So I said, I need to take a break because if I don't take a break if I don't take care of myself, how can I be a strong activist, a stronger person? So, I think sometimes taking a break is a must for us as activists, so that the day after that break, we might come back stronger and more motivated to do something. So, yeah, I think one would be thinking about the 'why' but also self-care HerStory: What's your hope for yourself and Afghan girls? Could you share your thoughts on your future and your goals? Muzhda: If we talk generally, one of my hopes is that I really want to live in a world one day where we, as Afghan girls, feel extremely proud of ourselves. So proud that we don't care about what anyone thinks, how they define us, or how they try to limit us. Right now, the fact that the Taliban are using all their power to stop us can be empowering for us. We see that they are trying everything to stop us, but we will still persist. One day, we will go back stronger to our country. Even for those of us already in our country, we will be so hopeful and empowered that we won’t let them overcome us. So, I think one part of it would be that I want to see all of us very proud, happy, and empowered. But for myself, I would say I am thinking of studying law. After that, maybe get into politics in some way. One of my goals right now is to study law. And for my university, I really want to get into a good one because, you know, we went through a lot of things, and we deserve a very good education. Education has helped us a lot. It is education that allows us to communicate, learn, write, and advocate for other girls. So that is a big part of it. My hope for girls is, of course, that I want to see them go to school. I want to see them going to university and working. And for women in Afghanistan, I want to see them become the future leaders of Afghanistan. I believe, deep in my heart, that after a dark day, we will have a very, very shiny day. We will have that light and that shiny day. On that day, I want to see women shine. I want to see women in leadership. And I'm confident that we will see that. So that is one of my hopes for women and for us. HerStory: What would you say to girls in Afghanistan who need motivation? How can you inspire and keep them motivated to hold on to hope? Muzhda: When you talk with a girl in Afghanistan and just ask how they are, it's hard because we all know what they're going through. It's even harder than what we are currently experiencing or what we have been through. But, as I mentioned before, consider the fact that the Taliban fought for years to gain power, and now that they are in power, they're using everything to stand against women. It's quite challenging. So, never lose hope; never let them overcome you, because there is something special about you. Be motivated and use any opportunity that comes your way. Even if you can't go to school, maybe if you have a chance to read a book, do that. At the end of the day, I believe you should be proud of yourself as a woman. One thing I've realized is that some women are feeling low, and they regret being women. Families may want boys instead of girls. I don't want women to feel that way about themselves. I want them to be strong, proud of who they are, motivated, and never give up, as I mentioned. We will see light, and I want them to be strong and not let the Taliban overcome them.

Born and raised in the Baghlan province of Afghanistan where opportunities for youth, especially women, were scarce, Batol Gholami set out to make a change. Fueled with determination and a clear vision in 2019, she co-founded the Afghanistan Youth Leaders Assembly (AYLA) with the mission to empower women and youth across Afghanistan through education, skill-building, and community engagement. Since the fall of Kabul to the Taliban in August 2021, AYLA has pivoted to providing online education, reaching over 3000 students in Afghanistan. Among them, the majority are girls who are banned from receiving education under the regime. Batol completed her high school in Baghlan and received a full scholarship from the government of Pakistan in 2017 to study computer science at the University of Comsat in Lahore. She was in Pakistan when Afghanistan fell to the Taliban in August 2021. “I've felt deeply lost twice in my life. Once in 2018 when I lost my father, which was the worst day of my life, and again when Afghanistan fell to the Taliban,” explains Batol, describing how difficult it was for her to believe what had happened. She had been dreaming of celebrating her graduation from university back home with her family and friends—a dream that was never fulfilled. “After almost a year, I was able to meet my family in Pakistan, but it was still a tough and unforgettable moment in my life.” AYLA was first started in Mazar-e-Sharif, expanding its activities to the provinces of Baghlan, Samangan, Bamiyan, and Kabul. Following the fall of the government in Afghanistan, Batol started receiving messages from girls in Afghanistan, “Batol, you’re so lucky that you’re out of the country.” Afghan girls, including Batol, were afraid of what then turned into a reality: the banning of girls from schools by the Taliban. To help the girls in Afghanistan in such a situation that was starting to happen, Batol and her colleagues at AYLA resumed their online classes in September 2021, only a month following the return of the Taliban to power. Though Batol had the experience of offering online courses before the fall, the demand for such courses was high this time. "We had almost 300+ students for the first round of classes, including school subjects, computer skills, technical courses, and foreign languages," says Batol, expressing gratitude for the support she has received for AYLA's efforts. Aware of the challenges associated with online education in Afghanistan, AYLA was the first organization to provide internet packages to its students, especially for those with financial barriers in remote areas of the country. "Even after our students graduated, especially those in advanced English classes, they continued their education abroad with scholarships," says Batol proudly, considering it a big achievement not just for the organization, but for all youth who work to empower each other. In addition to running AYLA, Batol has been an activist and advocate for women’s rights. While in Pakistan, she was invited as a speaker to deliver a speech on the situation of girls and women in Afghanistan, especially about education. Upon graduation from university in Pakistan, she was neither able to return to her home country like many other international students, nor stay in Pakistan. Feeling restless, she tried reaching out to the embassies of different countries in Pakistan via email, and Spain was the only country whose embassy responded to her. “After two interviews, I obtained a humanitarian visa. However, I left my mother and family in Pakistan,” Batol describes becoming a refugee as a tough experience, especially when someone is alone and on their own. It has been 15 months since she arrived in Spain, building everything from scratch. “Coping with life's pressures is challenging, but I try my best.” Spain and its people have been welcoming to Batol since she arrived in the country. “Spaniards are kind and gentle, much like in other European countries. Spanish is somewhat like English, which makes it interesting for me to learn. That's one reason why I chose to stay in Spain.” “I'm eager to learn new skills and stay updated on IT advancements,” she is interested in areas of Information Technology and International Educational Development. Batol believes in education as the only key to success for Afghans, especially women, not only in Afghanistan but also abroad. “I believe that educated women can reclaim their power. No force in the world can suppress the power of education,” describes Batol, explaining why the Taliban opposes education and her commitment to empowering people through education for the rest of her life. Deprivation of girls and women from their basic rights, including the right to get an education, is heartbreaking for Batol, but she believes they should not give up and keep their hopes high. “I want to remind them that after every darkness, there is success and light. We often achieve our greatest accomplishments during difficult times. Many of our students at AYLA faced similar challenges but persevered and secured scholarships to the US, Canada, and other countries. Despite the obstacles, they kept their hopes alive and worked hard. I urge other girls to do the same—to never give up. The new regime may restrict them, but there are always alternative paths. Don't wait for opportunities to come to you; seek them out.” Batol calls on the world to take action to help women in Afghanistan. “We're tired of empty promises and slogans on social media. We need action, especially in the realm of education.”

Masomah Alizada, an award-winning road cyclist born in Afghanistan, shares her remarkable journey from being forbidden to ride a bike during her childhood to competing in the Olympics as part of the International Olympic Committee. Alizada's story is one of courage and resilience. Despite becoming a refugee at the age of one and a half, she has overcome numerous challenges to achieve her dreams. Today, she stands as a symbol of hope and inspiration, having been appointed as the Chef De Mission of the Refugee Olympic Team for Paris 2024, where she will lead the entire team of refugees in the Olympic Games. Masomah Alizada was born in Sheikh Ali Parwan, Afghanistan, in 1996, but her time in her homeland was short-lived. Forced to flee due to the Taliban's initial control of the country, she sought refuge in neighbouring Iran. However, without proper documentation, Masomah and her family were stripped of basic rights. Renting a property, finding employment, or attending school became distant aspirations. Her first taste of education came through a community-based school established by Afghan refugees in Iran. Despite her challenging circumstances, Masomah held onto a dream: the hope of one day returning to Afghanistan. Life in Iran When I lived in Iran, the situation for girls and women was vastly different from that in Afghanistan. In Iran, we had the freedom to go outside and play, whereas in Afghanistan, girls were restricted from such activities. Riding bikes was considered completely taboo. I recall a moment during my studies when I simply wanted to borrow a classmate's bike, step outside, and see if I still remembered how to ride. Taking my classmate’s bike, I went into the yard, but as soon as I attempted to mount it, boys from other classes poured out with their bikes. They wanted to assert their dominance by riding alongside me. It was such an unusual sight for them to see a girl on a bike that they abandoned their classrooms just to witness it. I felt intimidated, so I retreated to my classroom. That day, I realized how unconventional it was for Afghans to witness a girl on a bike. Cycling on Kabul Roads Since I can recall, I have had a great passion for sports. In 2011, as a member of the sports team at Rabia Balkhi High School, we embarked on a journey to normalize girls riding bikes. Initially, the reactions to seeing girls on bikes were perplexing, but we persevered through the stares until they became accepted in society. I realized that I needed to integrate this into our culture. However, I encountered numerous obstacles along the way, and I was determined not to let the next generation of girls face the same challenges. I wanted our society to recognize that if a man could use a bike as a means of transportation, so could a girl. It was a simple concept that needed acknowledgment. Despite our efforts to maintain hope, the security situation deteriorated. One day, on our way to a competition, our coach was approached by a man who expressed disapproval of our team practicing in their neighborhood. He cited discussions in mosques about the impropriety of girls dressed in sports attire riding bikes in their area. However, we needed that space for training; it was convenient and provided the challenges we sought. Regrettably, we had to yield to the pressure, and we ceased practicing in that neighborhood. In the Pursuit of a Safe Home As a female bike rider, there were several challenges on my way. From societal barriers and disparities to the divide between Olympic committees and federations, security concerns, and the lack of adequate practice spaces. They all led to my immigration out of Afghanistan. So, I left in 2017 for France. When I was in Afghanistan, the dream of attending the Olympics seemed impossible. It was a distant dream and hard to accomplish given the circumstances. When I first came to France and met all the professional athletes, I noticed how much respect there is for their work. So, they all had the same opportunities and chances of competing in worldwide competitions. They gave their all to sports and focused entirely on their goals. I wanted to be like that, but for me, things were different. I was a refugee, and like all the other refugees, I had to learn the language, learn about the culture, or learn a skill. When I enrolled in university after some time, I was also competing in sports-I had not stopped my sports activities. I wanted to pursue bike riding on a professional level so that I could compete in worldwide competitions. So, in the first year of my arrival, I started learning French. Later, I started doing my undergraduate degree, and at the same time, I was bike riding and competing in local competitions. And in those days, all I could think about was competing in the Olympics. But that was when I heard the news. Our coach told us that as refugees, we do not have the right to represent our country in the Olympics, but there is another way. We could join the refugees representing no specific country and with the flag of the Olympics. It was not the greatest news because I wholeheartedly wanted to compete with the name of Afghanistan in the Olympics and represent my own country, but now that I think about it; I became a refugee when I turned a year and a half old. My life has been defined by diverse experiences, so I could change my perspective. Rather than seeing my refugee status as a setback, I could embrace it as a source of strength, because all that has shaped me into the person I am today. Living in Three Different Countries As a refugee, I have always faced problems. In Iran, the discrimination against my identity and race as an Afghan refugee was a barrier to my goals. And just when I thought things would get better in Afghanistan, the discrimination was against not my race, but my nationality as a Hazara. But despite those hardships, when I look back, I see that those experiences have taught me lessons, and they have become reasons for me to stay motivated for working towards my goals; to show up even braver than before, and not be scared of failure.  When I was in Afghanistan, something common was that society would tell girls with goals and ambitions that they could never achieve them. They would tell girls that they do not have any rights or that they’re not strong enough to work for their goals. For instance, bike riding is a difficult sport and they did not think a girl could do something like that. These societal pressures have been barriers to girls' self-confidence. It has made them worry about what other people would think of them, and how their actions might affect their reputation and their families. These things have killed girls’ dreams. They have not even let the seeds of those dreams grow and flourish. But when I got to France and joined some of the competitions, I saw how other girls would challenge themselves. They would ride bikes in even longer distances (more than 100km) in the mountains and in adverse conditions. And I could also; by the passage of time, do the same thing. This made me realize how much the extent to which societal beliefs had influenced my self-doubt. For instance, when a girl wants to do something, say start a project, start playing a sport, or whatever, they doubt themselves. They get so scared that they don't even start. But they should. No matter what the results would be; they would fail or win. But trying it does not hurt. They have taken away the courage to try from girls.  Sometimes I compare my situation with the situation of girls in Afghanistan. Right now, I am a university student, I live on my own independently and do not need a man’s help in my day-to-day life, but when I think of Afghanistan, the society has put so much pressure on girls that they can't even go out on their own. Integration with the Society Process In the seven years I've lived in France, I don't feel fully integrated into society. However, the concept of integration can vary depending on others' perspectives.  Despite this, I have never experienced discrimination or racism here. While some believe it's challenging for Muslim women to live in France, it hasn't been an issue for me. I've been studying at university and now work part-time, and in these environments, I haven't observed any differential treatment because of my hijab. It's common for people to inquire about my hijab, particularly when I'm cycling in warm weather, but the questions have been asked respectfully. When questioned, I explain that wearing the hijab is rooted in my beliefs and values, and adhering to them isn't difficult for me. Overall, the process of connecting with or becoming part of a country differs for each individual. This has been my personal experience, but certain factors, such as the people you choose to spend time with or whether you reside in a city or a town, can influence it. Fortunately, I've been surrounded by supportive individuals who respect my beliefs and values.   How Masomah's Dreams Coming True Have Affected Her Before everything happened, I was struggling with low self-esteem. When I was invited to give speeches in different places, I would notice how everyone perceived me differently upon learning about my life journey. They were impressed and astounded; it's not easy to hail from a war-torn country, pursue a university education while competing in the Olympics, and still muster the courage to pursue one's dreams. So, whenever I was asked to share how I accomplished all this, people were moved and inspired by my words. They would express their gratitude, thanking me and praising me for my incredible strength. However, deep down, I couldn't bring myself to believe their words. I always thought what I had done was easy. But as I reflect on my life now, I am astonished. How could I simply hop on my bike and ride through the streets? These same streets where girls like Farkhunda would face stoning for acts of bravery. At the time, all I could think about was, "I want to normalize this." I was oblivious to the potential dangers that awaited me. Perhaps, as a young teenager, I wasn't considering the consequences of my actions—riding a bike in sports attire through the streets of Kabul. But now, I find myself questioning why. How Masomah Finds Inspiration When it comes to life lessons, we have experienced many trials, with more bad ones than good. For instance, in Iran, I didn't have the right to attend school. I struggled to participate in the community-based school set up by Afghan refugees, often trekking long distances because transportation was out of reach. My father not only had to provide for our family's basic needs but also invested heavily in my education. Despite these challenges, we persevered. Comparing those times to my current situation, there's been a significant change. Now, I have the freedom to choose between work and study and pursue whatever I desire. It would be a disservice to my past self to stop trying now that I have the freedom to work even harder. Thus, I find inspiration in my own life journey. Hope for the future It is difficult to imagine the situation of Afghan girls. So, being in a safe country, it is hard to imagine being in their shoes, but I can only hope everything changes. And it is very brave of them to keep that hope alive in this situation. I hope they continue to fuel their passion for learning using any small resources they have because maybe one day everything will change. The world has been ignorant and silent about the girls of Afghanistan. But it is the responsibility of every one of us to raise awareness so that the girls are not forgotten. And I hope that every time we talk about them, it does have some kind of effect on their lives; to get back their basic rights and live freely again.

Zahra, a 19-year-old Afghan girl living in Germany, tells us her story of finding herself through her journey from the city where she was born, Kabul, to Germany, where she is now. A lover of photography, cycling, and filmmaking, she says she has become a new person, now longing for a better world by following her passions. Zahra’s Story Before the takeover of Afghanistan in 2021, Zahra was a high school student in Kabul, the capital of the country. “I was one of the last generation of girls who had permission to study at school and graduate,” Zahra says. The 19-year-old Afghan teenager grew up following her passions for cycling, photography, and art. After Taiban came to power, Zahra had no choice but to leave. It was not easy, though. “It was a time of uncertainty; it was very difficult for us.” She explains. After a few months, when she was certain they were going to leave the country, she had an idea. She wanted to find a way to keep the memories she made in Kabul. So, she started taking videos and pictures of the streets and people of the city, but under her veil. “I was very scared, but these are very beautiful memories to carry with me because I had the chance to show the pain of the girls who are watching the world behind the prison. I wanted to carry the feeling I was experiencing to show the world what is happening in Afghanistan and what it is like to see something from behind a barrier.” A few days later, her family found a way to get to Pakistan. She then spent more than eight months in limbo, waiting to get to Germany. Now, she is residing in Germany, with her family. “I never thought I would be the person I am today. I was just a little girl who was growing up in Afghanistan, and I am getting to know who I am now in Germany.” What Zahra says about girls’ education “I know Afghan girls are so smart; they were all the top scorers in the university entrance exam (Kankoor exam) each year,” Zahra says as she reflects on the education ban on her fellow Afghan girls. The Taliban, the militant nationalist organization that rules Afghanistan now, has banned girls over the age of 12 from getting an education. Girls cannot continue school after 6th grade and beyond. They believe education is against their interpretation of Islamic Sharia law. Zahra’s Passions After Zahra could get to a safe place, she started to think about how she could help raise awareness about what was happening back home. She describes that feeling as a fire in her heart, longing to do something to help. After a while, Zahra decided to make a photography collection along with her sister, Manizha Abbasi, who worked as a journalist with Afghanistan’s most-known TV channels. “Our photos are for the girls who are still alive, the girls who are dead, or the girls who will be born in the future. These are the stories of all of us.” Zahra is also a committed cyclist. She started cycling when she was 12 years old, just for fun. “For me, it was always a question: why can’t girls do cycling like boys can easily?” Growing up in Afghanistan taught her to be silent and obedient as a girl, while boys were free to do what they wanted. With time, she developed a deep passion for cycling, which led to her dream of joining the national cycling team of Afghanistan. Her dream couldn't be turned into reality after the fall of the country. Future “I love a saying from Malala. She says that when the whole world is silent, even one voice is powerful. So, I think of my voice as that. And when I am thinking about myself, I remember my people, for instance, my cousins. I try to remember them, and I ask myself, Why not continue now when I can?” Zahra finds inspiration by reliving her own past experiences. When thinking about her future career, she dreams of becoming a filmmaker. “When I was in Afghanistan, I had the passion to become a doctor. During our stay in Pakistan for about eight months, I started to find myself through art. I fell in love with storytelling. Then, I decided to become a filmmaker.” At the age of 19, Zahra has already made three astounding short films based on her experiences. Her first short film, “For Me, For You," was nominated for the Girls Go Movie Festival 2023 in Germany and also won the OK-TV-Förderpreis gestiftet vom Offenen Kanal Ludwigshafen Award. Her other film, Ali’s Story, was nominated for the PILNet Award in 2023. As well as the videos and pictures she took during her last days in Afghanistan, they are now put together in a short film named “Behind the Veil," which has been published in Germany as well. “I hope the newborn girls and boys of our country will live in a peaceful Afghanistan. If we do not have the chance, I hope they can. I hope they can have the power to choose where to live. Not be trapped out of their country, like us.” Photos courtesy of Zahra Abbasi | Submitted to HerStory

Position: Interpreter & Narrative Writer Job Type: Volunteer, Part Time Hours: 5 Hours a Week Schedule: Flexible Location: Remote Start Date: April 1, 2024 Date Posted: Feb 19, 2024 Closing Date: Open Until Filled Position Overview and Purpose: As an Interpreter and Narrative Writer, you will play a vital role in bringing the authentic voices of Afghan women to a broader audience. Under the direction of the content creation team, this volunteer position provides a unique opportunity to contribute to a meaningful cause by translating interviews conducted in Farsi (Dari) to English and crafting compelling articles that capture the essence of these stories. Key Areas of Responsibility: Transcribe interviews from Farsi and/or English into written form, ensuring accuracy and attention to detail. Collaborate with the content creation team to synthesize translated content into cohesive and impactful articles that resonate with a diverse audience. Develop narratives that fluently convey the experiences, challenges, and triumphs shared in the interviews, maintaining the emotional depth and authenticity of the original stories. Smoothly integrate cultural nuances and context into translated content and narratives, ensuring a comprehensive and respectful representation of Afghan women's stories. Work closely with the content creation team to ensure accurate translation of interviews and content. Manage multiple transcription and narrative development projects simultaneously, meeting deadlines and maintaining high quality. Stay updated with industry trends and storytelling techniques to enhance the impact of HerStory's narratives. Qualifications: Proficiency in Farsi and English languages, with a strong command of written and spoken Dari. Proven experience in translation, transcription, and narrative writing. Strong written and verbal communication skills. Self-motivated and able to work independently. Motivated to work at least 5 hours a week. Passion for women's empowerment and advocacy for Afghan women's rights. Familiarity with cultural nuances and context related to Afghan women's stories. Afghan girls both inside and outside the country are highly encouraged to apply. How to Apply: To apply, please send your resume along with a cover letter stating why you are interested in the position and what qualifies you for it, to info@herstory-af.org. Please quote the name of the position in the subject line. Applications will be reviewed on a rolling basis until the position is filled. Shortlisted candidates will be invited for a virtual interview.