Illustriert von Xenia

Every Night She Dreamt of Freedom

Jacqueline Jacobs
von Jacqueline Jacobs 13. Oktober 2025

When Silence Becomes Law: The Human Cost of Oppression in Afghanistan

“A woman’s voice should no longer be heard, in public, between each other or by any man who is not their father or their husband. Effective immediately.” Aarman’s droning voice sent shivers down my spine and his horrible words made my head explode in roars of protest, roars of protest at the unfairness of what had become my reality. But, of course, I stayed silent. Silent and invisible. First the Taliban had stolen my smile, then covered my eyes, until the only thing I was, was a cloak of imprisonment, with a small voice. Now they’ve forced me to give away my last evidence of existence. All that is left of me is a shadow. A shadow of the men, who claim to have love and respect for me, who are remembered while I am forgotten. A shadow, because my presence and thoughts have no impact on anyone, or anything anymore. A shadow, because I drown in a dark world, where my happiness has been stolen. How can I be happy, when I cannot even speak to my مور? Who will hold me softly and whisper words of comfort, when my body is tortured from my husband’s abuse? Who will remind me of my childhood memories, already fading in the recesses of my mind? When it was only me and مور, no men, no Taliban, just a loving mother and her curious child. The memories of a brighter past were the distant lights of hope that kept me alive in this never-ending tunnel of darkness.

I slowly made my way back home from the market stall, where we all gathered, every Sunday, to buy food for the week. We are not worthy of expressing our thoughts, but cooking, cleaning and doing household work for our husbands and families are our strict duties, is what Aarman said about women, in the name of Allah. I couldn’t comprehend why Allah had created women, if we hadn’t the right to feel anything but misery. Rahan was surely getting hungry, so I quickened my pace, I didn’t want him to beat me for not having his dinner prepared. When I arrived, Rahan awaited me with a big smile. “Every day, we are getting closer to what Allah has meant for our world. Have you heard the words Aarman has spoken today, my dear?” I was disgusted, but not surprised by what my husband said. I didn’t answer, because I wasn’t supposed to. Rahan can’t stand when I speak my opinion, regardless of if it is identical to his. Women aren’t supposed to meddle in important matters, they aren’t supposed to have any opinion on it, they should just trust the men who “protect” them. I began cooking, only enough for Rahan, because he hates it, when I eat the same food as him. I am to eat less expensive food, as I wasn’t the one earning the money to buy it. If only I had the opportunity to. As soon as Rahan finished his food and I cleaned the kitchen, he called me into the bedroom. I knew what he wanted to do. My head fills with dread and my stomach lurches at the thought of him touching my body. My body, that he told me was so precious, I had to hide it from the world, but he was the first one to mistreat it. His pleasure is always at my expense and leaves painful red and blue stains on my skin. But what hurts the most, are the scars of trauma that he indulged, which run deep inside my body. The ones that come to haunt me in my dreams. Most nights I escape in my dreams. I live the life of a free woman. Sometimes I dream of graduating high school and then going off to medical school. Other nights I dream of marrying a guy my age, who listens to me and acknowledges me, unlike Rahan. 3 weeks after I had gotten my period, I was forced to marry Rahan and in the first 6 months of our marriage, he haunted my dreams. His ghastly grin, after he had raped me for the first time and the swooshing sound of his belt when he beat me, was all I saw and heard once I closed my eyes. The entanglement of physical and sexual abuse left me restless for months and I thought I would never dream of freedom again, but after I got used to the abuse, my dreams came back.

I wouldn’t let Rahan take my last piece of freedom away. “The rights of women in Afghanistan have fluctuated since before the 1900s, but have been severely curtailed by the Taliban takeover in August 2021. Women are excluded from public office, education, work, and freedom of movement. They are subject to a strict dress code and a male guardianship system. The current Afghan government is unable to enforce the rights for most Afghan women.” -A brief History of Women’s Rights in Afghanistan, A little bit human.

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