Hard to Believe: One Girl's Story — and Why It's Ours to Care About

nasir786it
2 days ago
4 min read

Hard to believe. Those three words keep coming up as I think about what is happening to girls in Afghanistan right now.

Hard to believe that in my lifetime, a girl could be told that her education ends at the primary school level, not because she lacks intelligence, drive, or dreams, but simply because of who she is.

Hard to believe that somewhere right now, a girl who imagined herself as a doctor, a teacher, or a lawyer is watching her future quietly disappear.

And perhaps hardest of all: that the daughters of these girls will grow up with mothers who were never allowed to reach their full potential. The loss isn't confined to one generation. It echoes forward.

I Can't Fully Imagine It. And That's Worth Saying.

I'll be honest: I struggle to picture what these girls are actually living.

I grew up with education as a given, not a gift, not a privilege I had to fight for, but the air around me. I still remember my 9th-grade English teacher treating my ideas as worth developing. That moment felt ordinary then. It feels like everything now because a girl in Afghanistan will never have it.

Because somewhere right now, a girl who is every bit as curious, every bit as capable, and every bit as full of plans for her future has had that assumption taken from her. Not gradually. Not as a consequence of poverty or circumstance. As a deliberate policy choice.

I can't fully imagine what that feels like, but I don't think I need to fully imagine it to know it's wrong and to want to do something about it.

This Isn't Just a Political Story. It's a Human One.

The politics matter. What is happening in Afghanistan is a deliberate government decision to remove girls from classrooms at the end of primary school. Diplomacy, sanctions, and international engagement are necessary and ongoing conversations.

But here's what gets lost when we stay only within the political frame: a girl cut off from education at age 11 or 12 doesn't just lose a career. She loses the tools she needs to navigate the rest of her life.

Reading a contract. Understanding her rights. Raising children who can read. Advocating for herself at a doctor's office. These are not advanced skills. They are the basics, yet they require education beyond primary school.

When a girl's education ends at primary school, she isn't just blocked from a university degree. She is left without the foundation for full civic and social participation. More dependent. More vulnerable. Less able to shape her own story.

That is not a political talking point. It is simply what happens.

And it happened to one girl in Afghanistan. Not as a statistic. Not as a policy outcome. As a life, her life, suddenly unraveling.

In Her Own Words

She described it herself, in words no policy brief could ever convey:

"Before I joined AAFE's online classes, I was truly depressed and overwhelmed. When I heard that girls were no longer allowed to go to school, I was shocked and lost all motivation. I isolated myself, barely eating or sleeping, as I worried endlessly about my future. The thought of not being able to continue my education crushed my dreams.

But then I joined the AAFE online classes, and everything changed. The teachers motivated me, helped me regain my confidence, and taught me valuable skills like English and computer literacy. For the first time in years, I felt like I had a path forward. AAFE didn't just give me an education — they gave me back my sense of purpose and possibility."

Read that again. Depression. Isolation. Barely eating or sleeping. This is what happens when education is taken away, not just professionally but psychologically. A girl loses not only her future but also herself.

And then: a path forward. Purpose. Possibility. Restored by something as simple and as radical as an online class.

What AAFE Is Doing Right Now

Aid Afghanistan for Education operates on the conviction that education is not a privilege. It is a lifeline.

When classroom doors closed, AAFE opened another door: online English and computer classes, taught by teachers inside and outside Afghanistan, that reach girls who would otherwise have nothing.

Through online classes, 110 girls are still learning. Small numbers. Real lives.

The Quiet Responsibility of Having Had Enough

There is a version of this story in which we nod sadly and move on. There is another in which we recognize that the opportunities so freely handed to us carry a quiet responsibility.

These girls are not waiting to be rescued. They are showing up, often at great personal risk, because they already know what AAFE's students put so simply: education doesn't just build a career. It gives you back your sense of purpose and possibility.

That is worth protecting.

She didn't ask for much. Neither does AAFE. A donation keeps a teacher showing up and a class running. It keeps one more girl from slipping into despair.

Hard to believe until you read her words. After that, it becomes impossible to look away.

To donate or learn more about Aid Afghanistan for Education, visit www.aidafghanistanforeducation.org