What it’s like to watch Afghanistan from afar…

Laila Jewayni
ILLUMINATION
Published in
5 min readSep 7, 2021

--

My perspective as an Afghan-American woman

Unsplash by Nasim Dadfar

A month ago, I was sitting at a restaurant in Costa Rica— I had only been in town for a few weeks when I was introduced at the table. Within minutes, a new friend jumped in when introducing me to a man on my left. “She’s from Afghanistan!” he shouted, then he looked back at me, “he’s been to Afghanistan!” Silence cut the air.

I could feel the awkwardness in my throat when I asked the typical question, “what were you there for?” His response—“the war.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, I could feel myself dissociating. I stared into the nothingness between the two bodies. In the periphery, drowned out by my daze, I could hear him say “I’m gonna go back…I have friends there and I keep telling them, I’m gonna come back.”

As he uttered those words, all I could think about was the fact that I will probably never be able to go back. What he was so sure of — perhaps in his own denial — I had little hope for. The clock was ticking and the Taliban takeover was only a matter of time away.

Little did I know that in a matter of days the Taliban would wave their flag in front of the Presidential Palace in Kabul. Afghan women everywhere wept because they knew exactly what this meant. Every little bit of freedom that the women in the country fought so hard for — with their blood, sweat, and tears — was about to be wiped clean from the slate. I’m sure many of you are aware of the devastating images and videos that followed of Afghans fleeing for their lives. I don’t know what’s worse: the constant lack of security due to a multidecade war or the promise that the little freedom you did enjoy would likely be robbed from you. Both are terrible options.

The History of Trauma

Right now, the feelings that are trapped in my body are immense sadness, anger, helplessness, and heartbreak. I know that many Afghans who are watching the crisis from afar feel the same way. With those in the eye of the storm, feeling a much more amplified version of this — as danger is imminent.

When I look at those feelings written down — sadness, anger, heartbreak, and helplessness — I can’t help but notice that they are the underlying feelings of every traumatic experience of my life. What’s unfortunate is that Afghans, particularly Afghan women, know those feelings all too well. Twenty years of the US War on Terror, five years of brutal Taliban rule, seven-plus years of civil war, ten years of the Soviet War, not to mention the Anglo-Afghan Wars, and the bloody Mongol rule if we want to go way back. In wartime, women are systematically abused as a war tactic. It happens everywhere across history. My mother shared stories of Soviet soldiers who would make note of any homes that had daughters and would later knock on those doors to abduct those girls. It has happened and is happening with the Taliban as young girls are forcibly married off (or worse) to their men. And the U.S. forces are no exception.

There have been many times in my life where I’ve been excitedly introduced with a “guess where she’s from?” or “she’s from Afghanistan!” My body usually tenses up in those moments and my breathing comes to a halt. One of those times, the guy I was being introduced to, turned around to his military buddy and said “dude, she’s from Afghanistan. If I was in-country, I would take her home.” I will never forget his words and that feeling — the cellular knowing of what happens to women like me in the midst of war.

The trauma that has been carried in the bones of Afghan women for generations would be enough to make anyone crumble. And yet, Afghan women are some of the kindest, most nurturing souls I know. And while trauma might course through our veins, so does resilience and courage. In the famous words of Maya Angelou, Afghan women still rise.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

In the days after the Taliban takeover, I saw deeply moving images of Afghan female journalists rising to the occasion and reporting the news. Strings of people gathered and marched in the streets with the Afghan national flag protesting the Taliban flag — some lost their lives for this peaceful demonstration.

I don’t know a single Afghan, born abroad or in the country, who hasn’t been affected by trauma. I don’t know an Afghan that doesn’t have a heart-wrenching story of how trauma has affected them or their family. This is the legacy of generations of war. The trauma lives in our bodies even if we’ve never been to our ancestral home. Everything that our parents experienced fleeing their homeland in the 1980s doesn’t just disappear, it’s passed down. And now the cycle is repeating itself with a new wave of people fleeing.

For those of us lucky enough to be first-generation whatever (insert: American, British, German, Canadian), we have the time and space to work through that generational trauma. The people in Afghanistan don’t have that luxury. They’ve never been given a break. They were born into an environment where their survival is threatened every single day. Imagine that. Only knowing a life where any move you make could be fatal. Now, imagine generations of people growing up in these conditions of war & insecurity—what do you think would happen to those people?

“The paradox of trauma is that it has both the power to destroy and the power to transform and reserrect.” — Peter A. Levine

How the Afghan people have managed to create some sense of normalcy, and even beauty and art, amazes me. Anything good that the Afghan people have managed to create — the Afghan Stars, the journalism, the female robotics team, the preservation of ancient artifacts — speaks volumes of the Afghan spirit. Like a blade of grass breaking through concrete, Afghans are the creative force that emerges from the rubble.

The Future

We don’t know what the future will hold for Afghans as we enter this new phase of Taliban rule. What I do hope is that the international community & the U.S. will hold the Taliban leaders accountable for the lofty promises they’ve made in protecting women & minority rights. What I hope is that the world won’t turn its back on Afghanistan when Afghans need it most. And that the 90% of Afghans living in poverty will get a sliver of the trillions of dollars that was spent on the war. My ultimate hope is that peace and security will be restored in Afghanistan and that my people will finally be given an opportunity to heal from all that they have endured. I pray for that. Every. Single. Day.

--

--

Laila Jewayni
ILLUMINATION

Wellness Educator. Yoga Teacher. Writer. Jewelry Designer. For more → www.instagram.com/ayurvedalaila