This narrative was told to Zan Times journalist:
I never wanted to get married. From the very beginning, my marriage was more of a transaction than a personal choice. My mother told my aunt to arrange my marriage to her son and said that if I could not bear him a child, she herself would find another wife for my cousin.
My mother believed that marrying me off would silence the gossip so I would no longer have to hear taunts, insults, and degrading labels such as “izak” or “hermaphrodite.”
My name is Salma*, and I am 28 years old. I live in northern Afghanistan. Six years ago, I married my cousin. We still do not have a child. Because I have not been able to bear my husband a child, my husband and his family constantly subject me to taunts and humiliation. I have even been severely beaten several times.
Yes, I am an intersex woman. Simply because of my identity and sex characteristics — things I had no role in choosing and that are natural parts of who I am — I am not accepted by my family or society. I am constantly exposed to discrimination, judgment, and humiliation.
In reality, this marriage was a response to social pressure and an attempt to hide my real identity and the differences that I had no role in choosing. It was never designed to allow me to build a life and find happiness.
My mother’s worries about my identity and physical condition began when I was 14. In the society where I grew up, girls were expected to enter puberty at this age, or shortly afterward. Signs such as the beginning of menstruation and the growth and development of sexual organs were understood as natural markers of puberty for girls.
But I never showed those signs of puberty. Although I had been identified as a girl at birth, my physical development was different from what society expected of me as a girl. This worried my mother and me. Many times, my mother took me to be treated. Whenever someone gave my mother the address of a good doctor, she would take me there, hoping I could receive a successful treatment, start menstruating, or that my sexual organs would develop. I also went along with my mother’s efforts, hoping to conform to traditional and social norms, but they were useless. We saw no change in my sex characteristics.
Gradually, my friends and those around me began to notice my appearance. They would constantly ask me similar questions: Why is your voice deep? Why is your body masculine? Why has your body not developed like other girls? And thousands of other questions to which I had no answers. I thought I was disabled or had a congenital condition that could not be treated.
Whenever I argued with my friends or my cousins’ daughters, they would instantly call me “izak” or “hermaphrodite.” They would touch my body, mock me, and then proclaim that I was not a girl. They mocked every part of me: my face, my hands, my feet, and the way I spoke. Things became so difficult for me that going to school and playing with friends no longer felt enjoyable.
Despite enduring these difficult circumstances, I finished school and studied for two years at a teacher training institute. After graduating, I was appointed as a teacher, and earned a salary. Alongside teaching, I also did tailoring and embroidery. In fact, it was because of my mother’s support that I learned this craft. I enjoyed my work and had a good income.
But none of my efforts, my independence, or the money I earned could hide the difference that others saw in me. I did not look like what society expected a woman or a man to be. The people around me were focused only on my physical characteristics, and everyone was confused about who I really was: Was I a woman or a man?
Sooner or later, anyone who saw me or my mother would ask about my marriage. People around me wanted to know why I had not yet married and what the reason was that no one was willing to marry me. Under the pressure of all these judgments, my mother finally decided to arrange my marriage to my cousin.
At the time, my mother believed that my condition would be successfully changed if I got married. To be honest, at the time, I believed the same thing. Neither my family nor I had enough awareness or information about what being intersex truly means. We did not know that I was not sick and that I could not be “cured” through medicine, doctors, or marriage. I thought the physical differences I had were an illness or a defect, not a natural part of who I am.
Still, under the severe pressure of society and family, and with the mistaken belief that marriage could be a solution to my problems, I married my cousin. Our marriage not only failed to improve my situation, but also brought greater psychological pressure, physical violence, and further harm. My cousin was two years younger than me. He lived in a very remote village and had no job or income. His family also struggles economically. If I had not been intersex, my mother would never have agreed to marry me to him.
After the marriage, physical violence was added to the psychological abuse, insults, and degrading labels I had faced for years. When my husband found out that I was intersex and that I could not meet his needs, he beat me and constantly sexually abused and harassed me. Even my mother-in-law, who is also my aunt, beat me. On some days, the atmosphere in the house was so heavy that I did not dare sit beside them and eat. I feel that they were indirectly forcing me to go to bed hungry.
Two years ago, at the worst of the psychological pressure, I attempted to die by suicide by taking rat poison. I survived.
Even now, I live in terrible psychological and physical conditions. I lost my teaching job because the organization no longer supported teachers after the Taliban’s return to power. At the same time, tailoring projects that had once been supported by foreign organizations were banned by the Taliban. As a result, almost all of my ways of earning an income have disappeared.
Meanwhile, I face violence, torture, and beatings from my husband and his family inside our home. Several times, I decided to file a complaint against my husband with the Taliban, but each time I changed my mind. I was afraid that going to the Taliban would make my situation worse. I fear that if they become aware that I am intersex, I may face even more discrimination and danger, and my life may become more difficult than it already is.
Raha Malik is the pseudonym of a Zan Times journalist in Afghanistan
