WHEN THE TALIBAN first [seized power in Afghanistan] my parents relocated to Pakistan, because we could not pursue our education; we were four girls. I was 12 years old. I saw the suffering of women from my childhood. They were always under the authority of men. They didn’t have access to health services. I studied law and trauma counseling and feminist leadership [and handled] a lot of cases of sexual violence.

[In 2021 the Taliban returned to power and are] restricting women’s rights. Women can’t continue education beyond grade six or work in leadership positions. All the [female] judges and prosecutors were removed and replaced with people who studied Sharia law, but they have no idea about court systems or fair trials. I had to seek asylum in the U.S.

I built solidarity [with women in Afghanistan] through an NGO, teaching law online and helping women to learn life skills, build resilience, and become healthier together. Right now, we are working in five provinces of Afghanistan, conducting psychosocial counseling in the health center. This is the resilience of our own women.

Words like “women,” “peace,” “democracy,” and “activism” [are forbidden] in the title of NGOs. I don’t know what kind of justification they have because the fundamental of Islam is to bring peace — to bring justice — to their society. There are many activists like me working from outside of Afghanistan.

I empowered one woman and gave her hope. She organized an embroidery tailoring center where women make and sell their products. That woman got feedback from a supervisor that she didn’t do much in terms of legal work, but I was like, “You brought change in the life of 100 people you capacitated to stand on their own feet.” Afghan society and especially the female population needs sustainable support — not only in words, [but] in concrete action with empathy.