In Afghanistan, school doors have been closed to girls above sixth grade for more than four years, and one of the most profound silent tragedies of our time is unfolding there. It is not necessary to see explicit violence to recognize the damage: it is enough to hear the broken voice of a young woman who, like millions of others, saw her education interrupted without explanation, without alternative, without immediate hope of return. This young woman is Farkhunda, but it could be any Afghan girl. Its story is not exceptional; This is precisely the norm. And therein lies the scandal.
Farkhunda says that every morning his hand always reaches for the school backpackas a reflection of a life that was taken from him. The image is devastating: a student who can no longer be a student, a teenager with intact dreams but closed paths. His testimony, intimate and heartbreaking, reveals much more than an individual experience; shows the emotional and social impact of a policy that intends to erase an entire generation of women of the educational and, therefore, public space.
The day the schools closed for them, Farkhunda attended his final exam without really understanding that it would be his last. She describes the atmosphere full of uncertainty: the classmates crying in the hallways, the teacher hugging them, the hasty goodbyes, the feeling that something irremediable is happening before everyone’s eyes. It’s the kind of pain that leaves no visible scar, but leaves a lasting mark.
The ban not only interrupted their studies; It fractured his understanding of the future. How can we understand that dreaming of being a doctor, teacher or engineer is now an implicit crime? How can we accept that education, the most fundamental resource for aspiring to a dignified life, has become a forbidden privilege? Farkhunda expresses it with shocking clarity: “When I see girls from other countries progressing, my heart breaks. Not out of envy, but out of sadness that here, being a girl and wanting to study is almost a crime.”
In a world where access to education is discussed in terms of quality, digitalization and equity, Afghanistan is experiencing an absurd reality: a fight for the fundamental right to enter a classroom. We face a moral paradox: As the planet moves toward artificial intelligence, expanding knowledge and new scientific frontiers, millions of Afghan girls struggle for something as basic as opening a book in a safe space.
The international community – including the UN, human rights organizations and education experts – has repeatedly denounced this situation. The United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) recently warned that “empty classrooms” are reminders of a cut-off future. However, the declarations, declarations and condemnations have not changed the concrete reality: The doors remain closed, the silence continues and the “until further notice” of the Taliban regime continues painfully and indefinitely.
The effects of this policy are profound and lasting. As activist Forouzan Khalili points out, educational exclusion is not simply the refusal of a class or subject; It is an attack on autonomy, on critical thinking, on the ability of women to participate in social, economic and political life. Some organizations have gone so far as to describe this situation as a form of “cultural cleansing,” not because there is a physical elimination, but because the very possibility of a generation growing up with intellectual and social tools to transform their society is removed.
The effects of this policy are profound and lasting.
Women’s education is neither a progressive luxury nor an international fashion; This is the basis of all sustainable development. Everywhere in the world where women have been able to study, mortality rates have fallen, family incomes have increased, social stability has increased, and cycles of poverty have been significantly reduced. You don’t have to go far to verify this: you just need to observe how neighboring communities, where women have access to school, display much higher development indicators.
Closing schools doesn’t just harm girls; This hurts the whole country. An Afghanistan without trained women is an Afghanistan without doctors, without teachers, without journalists, without scientists. It is a country condemned to depend on others to cover its basic needs. It is a country which, voluntarily or not, gives up half of its human talent.
Despite these devastating prospects, the resilience of young Afghan girls is astonishing. Farkhunda says that many of his friends study in secret, They share digital books, they teach their younger sisters. She reviews her old books herself on the roof, not for an exam, but so as not to forget who she is. This phrase should resonate in the global consciousness: “Study so as not to forget who you are.”
There is powerful truth in this statement:Education is not only the accumulation of knowledge, but also an affirmation of identity and dignity. It’s a person’s way of saying: “I exist, I think, I’m worth it, I can build my own future.” » Taking that away from a girl is not only an act of oppression; It is an attempt to redefine her as a being without agency, without autonomy, without a voice.
It is essential to understand that what is happening in Afghanistan is not a local or cultural problem; This is a crisis of human rights and global justice. It should not be analyzed with relativism, but with universal principles. The right to education is non-negotiable and does not depend on ideological interpretations. This is a fundamental right recognized by international conventions signed by Afghanistan before the fall of the previous government.
However, the world seems to be getting used to it. The initial outrage faded and the ban became old news. But for Farkhunda, and for millions of girls like her, the tragedy is renewed every morning as she passes a closed school.
Her testimony ends with a sentence as simple as it is powerful: “Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow either… but there will come a day when all girls will return to class with books and hope. Or maybe never.”
This “maybe never” should be intolerable for any society who aspires to justice. We cannot allow the educational destiny of a generation to be played out between resignation and oblivion. Moral and political responsibility lies with both Afghan leaders and the international community. Symbolic statements are not enough; Stronger diplomatic actions, humanitarian strategies specifically focused on education and coordinated pressure are necessary to prevent the right to study from being a bargaining chip.
Afghan girls do not ask for extraordinary privileges. They ask for what every human being deserves: the opportunity to learn, to dream, to build a future. This is not a heroic act; It is a fundamental act. It’s time the world treated it as such.
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