Mariam Amiri

I am Mariam Amiri, sixteen years old. I was born in a land that has been burning in the flames of war and oppression for years—a land that once held joy and hope but has turned dark and sorrowful, especially in the last three years.

I write this letter to you from the depths of my heart—the heart of a girl. A heart that has been filled with pain and despair over these years because of war and oppression, yet still hopes for a bright and free future.

These are experiences that history will carry in its heart. The path of these past three years has not been easy, but it has not been impossible either. I have witnessed how the victims of this suffering are mainly women and girls—the so-called second stratum of society. They have been forced into arranged marriages, taken away by the government for various reasons, raped, threatened, and driven to take their own lives. 

There are thousands of hidden stories, silenced by fear and oppression. Sometimes, I want to unveil these stories, write them all down, and lock them in a box—knowing that if anyone ever finds it, it may lead to my death. I want to write about the most bitter experiences and the incidents that have remained unseen.

When the government changed, thousands of girls and their dreams fled Afghanistan. Some lost their lives along the way, while others disappeared. Thousands of children became motherless, sisterless, fatherless, brotherless—left without families, without homes.

After that, the Taliban regime—those in power—hunted people from the previous government, searching homes, streets, and places of refuge. Many fled with their families, vanishing into an uncertain fate.

Hundreds of girls have disappeared. Their families say they left to buy groceries or attend classes and never returned. Is this what humanity has become—where leaving the house means never coming back?

Women and girls have been taken away for countless reasons—sometimes for not wearing the hijab "properly," sometimes for wearing clothes deemed "too short." Their education, employment, and basic rights—things that should be unquestionable—have been erased before our eyes.

In these three years, I have learned valuable lessons—how to remain courageous and faithful to my dreams even as the world around me crumbles. Life's path is often uncertain and harsh, but it is precisely these struggles that push us toward growth and strength.

Three years of my life have passed. In these years, I have seen too much, heard too much, and experienced both the bitter and the sweet. I have become a survivor. I have lost four friends in different ways. And I am not alone in this suffering. Nearly twenty million girls—twenty million dreams—have been cast into darkness.

But I, and all of us girls, are stronger than the oppression that seeks to break us. We are stronger than the forces trying to strip away our dreams. We have watched darkness consume the good and the joyful in our country, yet we still cling to hope—for ourselves and for a free future.

I tell the world: these dreams will never fade from my heart.
I still believe in my rights.
I still hope for change and progress.
I still dream of a future where we can laugh and play freely in the streets.
A future where we can chase our ambitions without fear.
A future where we can eagerly turn the pages of our books in classrooms, walking toward something brighter.

I hope that after these three years of darkness, this year will bring light-for Afghanistan, for its people, and especially for its women and girls.

About the Author:
Mariam Amiri is a passionate writer and advocate who explores societal realities and personal experiences, particularly those of Afghan women. Writing in both English and Farsi, her work has been published in 8 AM Newspaper, Sheesha Media, Rukhshana Media, Asso Media, Awa Media, Code Green Association, Amfily Afghan Girls Association, and Rave Zan Media. For Mariam, writing is a bridge between knowledge and community, offering hope and inspiration to others, especially the 200 Afghan girls she collaborates with.