Behind the veil

I was born in 2003 and thanks to my mother I had an adequate education and I have known the scent of freedom.

Coexistence with foreigners was easy, we no longer had to hide and we felt safe, in a new dimension that is constantly changing and full of hope.

Then two days ago, we heard gunshots and someone shouting that the Taliban were returning to take over the city.

“Iman we have to run away, take a couple of things and leave. We are no longer safe here. The Taliban will look for every woman who have collaborated with foreigners and they’re going to kill them all.”

It was the first time I had seen my mother in such a state, with terror printed on her face and from that moment it was dark for all of us.

Inside the burka I can’t tell you if I’m still alive…

I’m no longer Iman, I am just a body destined for reproduction. I cannot speak, I cannot show my face, I cannot heal my wounds, I cannot educate myself, I can no longer live… I just have to obey.

What’s the difference between the dress I’m forced to wear and death?

My name is Iman, I’m eighteen, I live in Kabul but I don’t exist!