Broken Wings

WRITTEN BY: BIBI BURAHNI

Posted on: October 15 at 5:30 PM

Not too long ago, I heard news that break my heart—a bitter story filled with despair about a girl, my age, from Afghanistan, whose dreams have been shattered, leaving her with no option but marriage.

Her alias is “Shirin.” Shirin was a bright, talented girl, brimming with hope for her future. Our families were close, and she was my childhood friend. Though we attended different schools, we always spent our winters together, enrolling in courses when the schools shut down for the season. As we walked to class, we would share our stories, talking endlessly about our dreams, imagining ourselves pursuing master’s degrees and shaping our futures. Even though she was a few months older, she always called me ‘teacher.’ During holidays, she’d come to my house, and I’d help her with math. After dinner, we’d watch movies, chat, and sometimes attempt to cook together, though the food never turned out right—but we’d eat it anyway, laughing at our failures. I used to joke, ‘Whenever you visit, you bring an empty backpack and leave with half of my bookshelf.’ She’d laugh and say, ‘Don’t worry, teacher, I’ll bring them back.’ Shirin was gentle but determined. She wanted to become a teacher. But when I heard that she was being forced into marriage, my heart shattered. She had dreams, ambitions to continue her education and become a teacher herself, to inspire future generations.

And now, all of that is being taken from her. We tried to intervene, spoke to her father, pleading for him to stop the marriage, but his response was somber. “There’s no education, no school. With the new laws, the Taliban have made it almost impossible to raise a young girl without fear. It is better to marry her to someone that we know is good for her than a Talib coming to our house and taking her as his wife by force. Besides, what future is there for her other than marriage under Taliban’s rule?” With this marriage, Shirin is being torn away from the dreams she held so tightly. And she’s not alone. Thousands of girls in Afghanistan face the same heartbreaking reality.

The crushing weight of poverty, combined with the Taliban’s oppressive restrictions, has pushed families to marry off their daughters early. For many, marriage has become the only escape from their harsh circumstances. Since the Taliban’s rise, the situation has worsened, with new laws silencing women and veiling them from the world, leaving young girls like Shirin trapped in lives they never chose. The future of these girls is being controlled by uneducated men who fear the light of knowledge. Men like the Taliban, whose ignorance and oppression have chained an entire generation of girls to a fate they never asked for. They are afraid of educated women, women who understand their rights and can stand up for themselves. These men see education as a threat because they know that knowledge is power, and that is exactly why we must fight to ensure that Afghan girls, like Shirin, have access to it.

I write this not just for Shirin, but for all the girls whose stories are being buried beneath this new wave of oppression. These girls, who once had dreams of education and freedom, are now forced into a future they didn’t choose. Shirin’s story is just one of thousands. Since the Taliban’s takeover, countless Afghan girls have been thrust into unwanted marriages. This is a call for everyone who believes in the power of education and the right of every girl to shape her own destiny. We must stand together. Stand for Shirin. Stand for the thousands of Afghan women and girls whose voices are being silenced. Let the world hear their cry for freedom, for education, for a chance to live the lives they once dreamed of. Together, we cannot let these broken wings go unnoticed.

Forbidden

This artwork is so close to my heart. On the left, you see a woman covered in a blue burqa, her entire face hidden. In her hand is a book with the words “Vice and Virtue” written in Dari—a symbol of the Taliban’s cruel laws that control how women live. It shows how they’re forced into silence, into a life where they have no say. But on the right, she’s wearing a suit and a graduation cap, representing both Shirin’s dream of graduating and becoming a teacher. She’s holding a book with the word “Iqra,” the first word revealed in our holy Quran, which means “Read.” This side shows the life Shirin wanted —to become a teacher, to help other girls understand their rights, and to share the power of knowledge. This drawing captures the two worlds Afghan girls are trapped between. One is controlled by uneducated men like the Taliban, who are afraid of the power that comes from learning. These men aren’t even true Muslims—they deny the very first command of our faith: to read. We have to fight for them, for their right to education and their right to a future. Their dreams are still alive, waiting for the chance to become reality.