Dreaming is an art, vibrant and eternal; it is born one day and lasts forever. In moments when people witness countless ugliness and misery, they cling to their wishes, yet only a few reach their dreams—those dreams that give them a reason to breathe, the ones that keep them going. I, too, have a dream, nurtured deep within my heart. My dream is a collection of seeds of trust, imagination, and hope that I have planted in the garden of my soul. One day, while browsing the website of Harvard University, I came across an insightful phrase in a study on placebo: “Imagination, trust, and hope, when intertwined, grant humanity an extraordinary power.” The power of a dream is stronger than any force, capable of coursing through one’s veins and granting them life—a new life, a renewed human.
Throughout history, women’s lives have been filled with pain and suffering. Women have been confined and judged in every aspect of life. Seeing women as lifeless objects has been more common than viewing them as humans. Why should women be led by men? Why should the doors of schools be closed to them, blatantly denying them their rights? Women’s voices are silenced, their eyes covered to keep them oblivious to the truths around them. Are the women of my homeland so helpless and abandoned that they suffer unbearably in a vast, modern, democratic world?
Beyond borders, wider than plains, deeper than oceans, and higher than the skies, I have a dream. A dream of liberation from cages and chains; a dream of freedom and living. My dream is about the women whose voices were stifled, the women who disappeared, the women buried alive who are still not free. My dream is to see women liberated, joyful, aware, and safe. I envision a day when girls, with bags full of books, walk happily toward school. A day when women are valued and respected as much as men everywhere; women who have the right to choose. My dream is for the laughter of women to shatter the deathly silence of the city streets. I want us to break free from decayed thoughts so that we may also free ourselves from decayed clothing and homes; for the renewal of thought is the renewal of the world.
I long for a day when we free ourselves from rigid and dogmatic thinking—in medicine, in sciences, and in politics. I want to feel the presence of women in the human and global community stronger than ever before; for achieving world peace, the presence of women in every social dimension is as essential as bread and water.
In these times, as women in my homeland are increasingly oppressed, tortured, and deprived of their rights, I still believe that it is women who can revitalize the human rights in my country, melting away like a candle. It is these women who can breathe life back into the world and alleviate the suffering of people. We need women in every aspect of society—compassionate, caring, skillful, and loving women. Just as every action performed with love endures, the essence of peace is also love. To reach peace, we need faith, belief, hearts full of hope and love, and people with high and beautiful dreams.
Despite all the difficulties, I still have a dream—a dream where I am judged not by gender, ethnicity, or religion, but by my character. My dream is for a day when heaven and earth meet; a dream of equality. A day when no woman is viewed as lesser than any man. That day will come; I will bring it forth. Indeed, there is a power within our hands; each of us is like a sorcerer who can transform anything into a gem.
When people say autumn is their favorite season, I think they mean it for the rustling sound of yellow leaves, the wind whispering through trees, the gentle afternoon rain, and watching trees gracefully age. Trees are like wise elders who humbly share their stories from spring to autumn, from existence to departure, through the voices of their leaves, gently murmuring: “The path to existence passes through the valley of nothingness.” Another spring will follow this autumn; we just need patience, for the road out of backwardness and misery is never straight. Dark and hard days will come, but none of them are devoid of grace and growth. Until one dawn when the light of morning shines upon your face and frees you from the darkness…
You can read the Persian version of this Afghan woman’s story here:
