By Laila*
I want to tell you about my forbidden identity, my life so far and a future that appears dark. Like many, August 2021 was the beginning of my woes. I was a female reporter in Herat province who had five years of work experience in visual media. A week before the fall of Herat, the manager of my media organization told all the female staff that “it is better to stay at home for a while,” at least until the security situation improved. I know you know how the rest of that story went.
What you don’t know is my personal story and that of my family during these past 17 months of darkness and terror. Though 24, I was the sole breadwinner of my family. I have two younger siblings. My parents are both sick: my father has a heart condition, and my mother suffers from mental problems and hypertension. I needed to work.
You don’t know how hard I looked for work and how much humiliation I endured for being a woman who needs to support her family. The Taliban has made it impossible for us – it’s as though they want to condemn us to mass death. During the past year, I visited the offices of every media outlet I knew. Some of them said that they prefer to hire male reporters because women are not allowed to cover news conferences and are forbidden from roaming freely and reporting from the field.
A few months ago, I went to the office of an outlet where I had previously worked. I explained my situation to the manager, asked for his support and requested that he give me a job behind the scenes, perhaps as an editor and producer. “It’s not a matter of working behind the scenes or on the screen,” my former boss replied. “The Taliban has asked us not to employ any women. If we want to hire you, we will be in trouble and the Taliban will come to our office every day under different pretexts to harass us. Therefore, don’t look for work here anymore.”
After that, I contacted another TV channel that knew about me and my family’s situation. He did not directly say “no” but instead promised to ask for a letter of permission from the Taliban’s directorate of information and culture so that I can work for them. But nothing happened.
Though I have heard that some organizations are helping journalists in similar situations, I have only received one $200 grant from the Committee to Protect Journalists in the past 17 months. Although I contacted many institutions and explained my situation, I did not receive further help. The few who responded said that they did not have the budget to do anything.
Now it’s been more than eight months since I have been able to afford my mother’s medication. She hasn’t been able to sleep properly for those eight months without her pills. Seeing the suffering of my sick parents and the hunger of my siblings is only part of my sad story. I have been suffering from hemorrhoids for more than a year, and need surgery to avoid them from possibly turning cancerous. Sometimes I can’t even walk because of the pain.
In addition to physical pain, I’m suffering from mental depression. I cannot pay our rent and I owe 200,000 afghani. There is no one left among my relatives or friends whom I have not asked for a loan. I don’t know what to do. My whole body just burns – I don’t know if it’s because of the pain or the cold of winter, but I cry over this fate, over the lives of women like me who are condemned to suffering, hunger, and humiliation just because we are born women.
I don’t know what my sin is, except that I was born a woman in Afghanistan and decided to become a journalist. Sometimes, I wish I had learned sewing and embroidery instead of journalism so that I could pay for my family’s expenses. Today, I am in need because the Taliban do not allow me to work, because they have banned my identity and profession.
*Laila is the pen name of a reporter living in Afghanistan.
