Massouda Kohistani
Recently, I had a trip to investigate the security situation and its impact on the residents of Sar-e-Pul Province. I traveled to three villages and during my research I had the opportunity to speak with rural women. I was happy to have the chance to speak with other women and talk about the shared discrimination that we face. I heard many different stories from women. Through our conversations, we realized that despite the differences between the lives of rural and urban women, much of our pain and sufferings is the same. We shared our sorrows and difficulties and tried to find healing in each other’s company.
One day during my trip, as I was walking in the streets of the village, I saw a young woman who was covered in a burqa, running. A man who was holding a large stick and cursing was running behind her. He caught up to her and started beating her with the stick.
I’ve always known that violence against women is common in our society, but I was shocked that we have become so accustomed to it that we no longer condemn the beating of women even when it happens in public.
Later when I asked the women neighbors about the incident, I found out that the young woman’s husband is working as a laborer in Iran, while she lives with her in-laws: her husband’s brother, her husband’s parents, and her husband’s sister-in-law. Her husband’s brother was beating her, because he thought she went to her father’s home by herself. While in reality, that was not even the case, she went to her father’s home with her husband’s nephew (the son of the man who was beating her). In other words, in this country, women are not even allowed to visit their parents’ home on their own.
Most women in this village and other villages still do not have the right to go to the doctor. If a woman is pregnant and in labor, an older and trusted woman has to get permission from the Arbab, the village leader, for her to visit the clinic. The Arbab decides whether the woman is allowed to go to the clinic. If the adult woman or the Arbab decides that the pregnant woman should wait for a few hours or a few days or give birth at home, then the villagers are not allowed to take her to the doctor. Not only during pregnancy and labor, but even during serious illnesses, women must take permission from the Arbab before visiting a clinic or hospital. Most women in rural areas still do not have the right to go shopping or leave the house without a man.
The women in the village told me that the daughters’ marriages are decided when they reach the ages of 12 to 14. They, too, are not allowed to leave the house on their own after marriage. When I asked the reason, one of the older women present in the room said, “If women go to clinic or shopping on their own, they will pick up bad habits and they will commit sins that will ruin our village’s name.”
But we all know that this is just an excuse.
No woman has become “immoral” or “promiscuous” on her own. Education, work, leaving the house, and visiting a doctor do not make women loose and immoral, but from the villages to the cities, this mentality that women cause chaos when they are in public continues to lead to violence against Afghan women. My trip and the conversations I had with women reminded that we women have a long way to go until we are even considered human.
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This piece was translated to English by Maryam Laly. A volunteer for Free Women Writers, Maryam is passionate about human rights issues. She has a degree in Government with minors in Peace Studies and Arabic from St. Lawrence University.
Read this piece in Persian here.