When did I feel that I am a strong girl?

I am a girl, like rare flowers,

like the beauty of butterfly wings,

like the beautiful color of the sea,

like the light of the sun,

like the clean water of springs,

like the softness of chamomile flowers,

like the calm of the oceans.

I am a girl, the most beautiful creation of God.

God created me to bring peace to the earth.

But...

men use my existence for their peace,

and they take my peace away.

Where did my strength begin?

Maybe from the day I was born in a land of war called Afghanistan.

From that day I was born strong,

because living as a girl in this land is not easy.

My childhood passed with the stories of my mother

and the stories of many other women.

Stories that showed their strength.

Stories that showed how brave women and girls are,

how they stand against injustice

and fight for the future of their daughters.

But they did not know that their story would happen again after twenty years,

this time harder and more painful.

This time the story was written with the death of their daughters,

with their blood on the streets,

and their bodies burning in fire.

The day I really felt strong

was the day I saw the body of Farkhunda on television.

She was crying in pain under the feet of men.

Men attacked her without mercy.

She could not defend herself because she had no physical power.

That day I understood that I must be strong.

So strong that the power of men becomes weak in front of my will.

I understood I am strong

when girls’ schools were attacked with rockets,

but early in the morning, with my white scarf and black clothes,

I still walked to school.

I understood I am strong

when I saw blood on the streets,

but I still carried my books and went to school.

I understood I am strong

when my mother was afraid of losing her child

and tried to stop me from going to school.

But I told her that if this kind of death comes to me, it is an honorable death.

I was not afraid that the school might be attacked

and I might lose my life.

I was afraid to stay at home

and not continue the dreams of the girls whose blood was lost.

I understood I am strong

when everyone thought I would cry

after seeing the bodies of my friends

in the university preparation courses.

But they saw me stronger,

because I wanted to continue the dreams of those girls.

I believed in my strength

when girls in my country were shot at the university,

but I still went to school early in the morning with strong will.

I understood I am strong

when tears came into my eyes while studying,

but I read louder

to be the voice of the girl who once sat in the class

but now is under the ground.

Instead of only praying for the girls who died,

I studied my school books.

That day my feeling of strength became stronger.

When I saw the closed doors of schools.

When I went to the university but they did not let me enter.

That day I said:

I am strong.

You close the door,

I will reach my dreams through the window.

You beat me,

I will use my blood as ink for my pen.

You put me in prison,

I will write books there.

You turn off the lights,

I will write in the light of the moon.

You build high walls,

I will grow wings for myself.

I am a girl, soft like a flower leaf,

but my will is stronger than your guns.

I will continue my way with my dreams in my heart.

The harder you make it, the stronger I become.

I continue because I am strong.

Not because I never fall,

but because every time I fall,

I stand up again and move toward the light.