Courage Grows from Love: Masooda's Fight for Women's Rights in Afghanistan
Masooda was 11 when the Taliban took power for the first time in Afghanistan, and about the same time, she realized that girls had to fight for their own rights. “I noticed that my father was the main character supporting [girls and women’s rights] issues. This is the time we [girls] have to fight for our own rights. There were no rights for girls to go to school, no rights for women to speak up about their problems, about the challenges they were facing.” She noticed that women were scared to speak up for themselves. She made a decision to study law. “I decided to do this advocacy for myself, also for my sisters, and also for my other girls in Afghanistan...not just in the circle of our own house… I noticed that there were always breaches in laws and regulations used against women and girls…”
She grew up knowing her father was alone on the front line fighting for her rights. There were times she worried about her father’s safety when he received death threats from his hometown. When he was planning to fulfill her grandmother’s wish to be buried with her husband, a family member warned him not to come to the village. Publicly advocating women’s rights to be treated equally with respect made Masooda’s father the “evil man” in a small, conservative town.
“99% of people were uneducated and against the school, against education. and my dad supported the girls. They think badly about my dad. In their mind, he's not a good person, because he allowed his daughters to go outside to study and his wife to work ... .so they were against him, and they would kill him because he breached the rule of the families. They said, ‘He sent the girls outside and the wife had the freedom at home. Their daughters can come and go.’”
Even within the extended family, many did not understand why he supported women and girls. He even faced tremendous pressure from the community in the more progressive city of Kabul. Despite the enormous pressure of the status quo, Masooda saw changes in people because of their advocacy.
“I'm very proud of my dad. When we studied, finished, and graduated from university, I noticed that others were following my dad's path, and they knew that we weren’t wrong at that time. They even sent their unmarried daughters outside to study.”
While the Taliban were in control Masooda wasn’t able to attend school, resulting in a five-year gap in her education. When they lost power, she began attending school again but had to make up for lost time. Completing multiple grades of school each year, Masooda put in extra work to catch up. Despite graduating at the top of her class in law school, driven to fight for women’s rights, she was told repeatedly to “relax”, to have children, and to let her husband provide. This is how she responded:
“I have my own responsibility, not just to find the money. Because I need to bring some change from the basics, not just for myself I have to fight for others. I had that feeling to fight for the rights of women and girls, for equality, for justice…because I have noticed a lot of injustice which becomes like impunity. You know the people didn't care about rules, about the laws. They say, ‘No, we make our own rules in our houses.’ They had their own rules.”
Her job involved providing educational training in regions of Afghanistan with deeply ingrained cultural biases against women. She trained police officers who frequently harassed their female colleagues and traveled to rural areas to engage with religious leaders. Through her efforts, she earned respect as an intellectual, educated woman. She sought to create change from within the system, even continuing her work when she was eight months pregnant.
“I went into the training room, and they said bad things about my husband, ‘I don't know which type of people they are? They send their pregnant woman to convert us and earn money for them. They are very bad people. She must be pregnant with a foreigner.’ You know that was something that I heard with my own ears. I didn't care about that. I told myself, ‘This is his idea. My idea is to fight and even teach them to learn and to respect.’ I didn't react to their attack. I have faced this type of challenge, but my goal was bigger… My own aim was to fight against the injustice there. An example with the police station, people were able to change their perception, because of the way that I presented to them.
“I told my mother what they talked about me. I laughed, ‘How come people’s thinking can be so bad about other people?’ That is why we conduct these trainings to not only teach them to respect their colleagues, other people, and even their own families.
“It's not easy for women to go to the province alone without their husband or brother. I went to different provinces. I talked with the head of religions. First, when I was explaining to them why we are here, they were so defensive. They said, ‘Foreigners gave you money to change our mentality about women. We know we have the rights from the holy book. We follow that. We don't need this type of training.’”
Throughout this journey, Masooda discovered her ability to persuade others. She found common ground through religion, helping them to better understand the teachings of the holy book. She said to people,
“We have verses from your holy book, too. We will compare [the texts], and there is nothing wrong with that. If it is the same, we will explain. If we are wrong, maybe you will not need this training to talk about the basic rights of women in the mosques, or how women should be treated by their husbands, brothers or fathers.
“First, they were so defensive and they were waiting to judge me. They said, ‘You're working with foreigners, you are not a good Islam you will not have a good future in the second world. How did your parents allow you to do this? How did you come here alone?’
“After 2 or 3 sessions, they became friendly, and friends. We exchanged numbers. They would call me for other training. I realized that a lot of them were good people. They have fears, but they were injected with wrong thoughts with the wrong people, they were brainwashed by their mosque elders, and most of them were uneducated with bad traditions. If the elders in the religion or the traditions say that milk is black, they would say, yes, milk is black. But they all know it’s not true. That is fear. I know about the holy book. I have read the translation since I was a kid. I bring my presentation to them. I asked, ‘Where does it say that women are not allowed to study?’”
The second time the Taliban came, she saw they were not alone in this battle. Women were stronger, and they knew their rights. “Women expressed their challenges and problems. Women disclosed violence, which is happening right now. They know that they breach their rights. They know that they were treated wrongly. This is something great compared to the first time. If we evaluate men’s mentality, you see men go back [to the first time the Taliban took power]. Why? Because they had the fear not to be the center of the present. If you notice in the media, women are doing the advocacy. They don’t care if they are going to prison. Men are silent, they go back to 1995.”
She knew she wanted a partner who would treat her with the same respect her father showed her. “I don’t want to be abused in marriage,” she asserted. Determined to be treated with respect, she fought for her own rights and those of other girls. She excelled in her exams, gained admission to a top law school, and consistently remained at the top of her class. To support her family, she worked during the day and attended university at night. It was there that she met her husband. When the time came for her father to meet her husband and his father, her father made sure that she could fulfill her desire to work and pursue her career with the autonomy afforded a man. After she got married, her husband was at the forefront, fighting for her rights. Her first job was in teaching, and after marriage, she transitioned to working in constitutional communication as an administrator. Her most recent role was as a security investigator at the American Embassy when the Afghan government collapsed.
Her love for her country and people was beyond doubt. She worked hard fighting for it to become a better place. When asked if she’s ever felt frustrated and wanted to give up when people who were not ready to change and even did not want their rights, she said, “No, I don’t. I never give up. It was not in my dictionary. I didn't allow that word in my dictionary. I’ve faced frustration. I’ve felt overwhelmed. I knew that this was my responsibility to express. I knew that I would not bring the change immediately, but step by step, at least I will be fine with myself, and will not blame myself in the future. I love my homeland, because it’s where I began to become Masooda. If I had grown up in a peaceful environment or had everything provided for me by my parents, in-laws, and husband, I wouldn’t be the Masooda I am today. All the challenges, the journey, and the injustices I faced in childhood made me stronger.”
Her unwavering commitment to truth and confidence in trusting her instincts helped her and her family navigate a journey filled with Taliban checkpoints, ultimately reaching the airport. Boarding the U.S. military plane marked the beginning of a new future for her family, especially for her children, including her unborn daughter.
“I was told never to say no to men. The first time I said no to my husband, we were crossing the bridge to the airport. When my husband noticed that there was a mess, but we had to cross that dirty water. My sons were pressed by the crowd and there was not enough oxygen. It was August. We had two jackets. We saved one, otherwise, we would not have clothes. We were facing different types of challenges. I was mentally prepared for that. If we were stopped by the Taliban, we would be killed. But, we should not give up. My son said he wanted to go back to grandma’s house because he was scared to go back to our house. He knew his father was a prosecutor and his mother worked! My husband said. ‘Let's go home.’ I told him, ‘No, if you want, come with me. If you don’t want to, I will go and make everyone come later.’”
Both Masooda and her husband held significant positions in their respective workplaces, making it risky for them to remain in Afghanistan. Masooda worked with international organizations, including the European Union mission and the U.S. embassy in Afghanistan. Her husband was a counter-narcotics prosecutor at the U.S. embassy for a decade, focusing on organized crimes involving drugs and illegal weapons that funded the Taliban. They were public figures committed to bringing change to their society. Masooda had a successful career, but she left everything behind, taking only her diploma with her.
“One thing that I took with me was my education documents. My law school degree with the transcript, my husband’s, and my work badge. I had a comfortable life, I did not bring any jewelry but my degrees. I found soft plastic to wrap them so that when they searched me, it would not make noise, and duct taped them on my body. That is something so precious to me. I remember my dad fighting for me since I was a child. That was our dream, even if the trip was the end of my life. That is one thing I brought!”
Because of what she brought, she and her husband were able to connect to the legal community of San Diego and find a job in the legal sector. “I felt very fortunate to meet some great people here. They make me feel like family. The support of the community paves the ground for immigrants and refugees like us who have law degrees to find jobs in the legal field.” She is currently working in the public defender’s office.
“In the country, I was raised and born, I fought for it. I have my culture, my heritage. I noticed that it’s been three years since I left. I had vacations when I said. ‘Let’s go back home.’ I did not mean Afghanistan. I meant San Diego. I don’t know when I started to have that feeling. San Diego is home for us. My kids are safe here and going to school.”
“I should say that my home is where I can express myself freely. I am my own home. Home is where you are not afraid… I am my own home.”
“In Afghanistan, I learned when I am outside, I have to be my own home. I have the responsibility for my safety. If you live in fear, you don’t have any homes, even your home is the White House. I was my own home, my own safety, my own protection.”
To conclude, Masooda shared what it meant to have her husband’s support in standing up for her rights, and for him to be willing to leave Afghanistan to start a new life with her, “I am trying to be the home for my kids and my husband, not just for myself. My husband was a man growing up in Afghan society. He was privileged, maybe he did not need to fight so much growing up. He did not fight for himself, but he fought for me. I am very grateful for that. He learned to fight for me. Without his advocacy, I would not have my dream job. He did his own part for me. I really appreciate him. If you fight in a conservative society, for a wife or sister, people will stamp you as a man without a good reputation.”
San Diego is lucky to have Masooda and her husband as examples of what it looks like to fight for all people’s rights in the face of power and injustice.
Shapes of Home is a part of our Children’s Rights Project. If you or someone you know would like to get involved, contact team@teralta.art.
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