By Azada*
In this narrative, Azada*, a journalist still working in Afghanistan, recounts the experiences told to her by Ferdows*, a queer individual living in Kabul:
One day, I was arrested by the Taliban and taken to Kabul’s 10th security district, where I was subjected to torture. It all began when my neighbours reported me to the Taliban. They went through my mobile phone and discovered personal photos and dance videos. As they interrogated me, they realized I am transgender, which led to even more torture and beatings. They insulted me, spat on me, and referred to me as “impure.” Eventually, they released me but demanded that I promise not to wear female clothing or express myself in a feminine manner – they wanted me to conform to their expectations of how men should behave and live.
The second time I was arrested, it was at a party where I had been invited to dance. This time, their torture was even more severe. The Taliban justified it by claiming that I was “Izak,” an insult aimed at transgender people. I endured the Taliban’s cruelty for several days before they released me on bail once again.
Life has become extremely challenging. My mental state is in turmoil and I live in constant fear and stress as I reside in a place where I am subjected to derogatory and humiliating terms like “Izak” and “girly-boy”, and where many see killing me or other transgender people as justified.
When I was 10 years old, my family rejected me, considering me a source of disgrace. Since then, I have lived a solitary existence. Eventually, I met a man who provided me shelter in his home. With his encouragement, I learned to dance. Subsequently, he asked me to dance at parties and earn money for him. In order to have a roof over my head and food to eat, I had no choice but to comply with his wishes. I would use the money earned from dancing to cover rent and buy food.
When the republican regime was in charge, powerful individuals and former soldiers would insist that I wear girls’ clothing and tie bells to my shins, compelling me to dance in front of them. Once the parties concluded, they would gang-rape me. I felt powerless but also believed that I had no choice but to dance at these gatherings and succumb to the desires of these influential figures. I knew that rejecting their requests would result in beatings, threats, and the spectre of death.
Sometimes when I didn’t attend their gatherings, they would track me down, beat me, and forcefully cut my hair. They would take me away at gunpoint and force me to dance for them from dusk till dawn and provide them with sexual services.
Even with all the dangers, I had some degree of freedom during the republican era. I could visit restaurants and cafes and spend time with friends. I used to wear my favorite clothes and put on makeup. Still, dancing remains my only way to stave off hunger and homelessness as discrimination prevented me from securing other employment. Returning to my home and family poses even more challenges. My maternal uncle has joined the Taliban and is actively seeking to kill me. (I currently reside in Kabul, far away from my family.)
My life is far worse now. I’m constantly harassed and insulted by neighbours and members of the Taliban. They threaten me with death and imprisonment. I live in constant fear of these violent and unpredictable individuals. As well, some Taliban commanders have even approached me, demanding sexual favours and calling my phone to arrange a meeting. Each time I have managed to escape with an excuse, while also changing my address.
I remain in hiding, largely confined to my room, overwhelmed by depression and isolation. I am seldom invited to dance at parties, now that the Taliban are in power. When I do receive invitations, I dance through the night to earn 500 to 1000 afghani. Although those payments are meager, I have no other choice. There have been days when I have no bread to eat.
My life, with its dual gender identity, has resulted in my exclusion from society and brought me immense suffering. Nevertheless, I embrace my identity as a girl and long to live authentically. I desire girly clothes and I hope to have a male partner. Feeling like a girl and expressing feminine qualities brings me joy. Unfortunately, in my country, this is regarded as the gravest of crimes. We are seen as criminals, and our lives are deemed expendable.
Azada* is the pen name of a female journalist, and Ferdows is the pseudonym of a queer individual living in Afghanistan.
