“These rapes and videos are a way to silence us”

I’m 33 years old. Before the fall of the Republic (the Taliban’s return to power on Aug. 15, 2021, editor’s note), my life was fulfilling. I thrived. I worked with international organizations, advocating for the development of local communities and for women. I had responsibilities, and I also appeared on radio shows. With my salary, I was able to support my entire family and even pay for my brothers’ and sisters’ education. I dreamed of a bright future, of a progressive government.

Afghanistan has become a prison for women. Now, we’re only valued for our reproductive organs. Every day, we had to endure new laws — their laws. I had to wear their clothing. I had to be accompanied by a mahram [a chaperone, usually a male relative], or I could no longer go out. And then one day, they banned women from working in my organization, and I found myself out of a job. Around the same time, I started receiving threats over the phone. This man, a Taliban member, I think, kept calling me and asking, “Where are you? Who are you working for?” Several of my friends had been detained, and I’d witnessed an arrest. I felt targeted, hunted. So I fled my region, convinced that the anonymity of a big city like Kabul would protect me.