Leeda's Speech

May 2, 2009 Imagine living in a country where a woman risks her life simply by going to school, getting an education, and getting a job. Imagine a society so dominated by religious extremism that women are not allowed to look another person in the eye, let alone laugh. Imagine a young woman coming of age in Afghanistan.

At the age of 20, fourth year Afghan law student Leeda has lived through civil unrest, oppression, and Taliban rule. She was forced to flee her home to continue her education. She was told she was a second class citizen. Hers was the best revenge: she refused to abandon her dreams.

On March 11, I had the privilege of hearing Leeda address an audience of her law school colleagues and professors. Her words capture the anguish of life for Afghan women under the Taliban and the hope for renewal that beats in the heart of every Afghan woman. Leeda points the way into the future for thousands of young Afghan women who dare to dream.

Leeda’s speech
March 11, 2009

Pretend that you woke up in the morning and found yourself crying, bound by time and change. You can’t walk or talk or even breathe easy. That’s the story of every Afghan woman.

There are three kinds of women.

One woman doesn’t feel the change anymore.

One has accepted the change as her reality, who says this is how my life should be, who accepts it the way it is.

The third is the one who struggles for freedom, who wants change on her terms.

I am the third kind.

I was born into a family where I learned that there wasn’t any difference between me and my brothers. That I could do anything. That I had the same abilities as a boy.

I was a running champion at school. No boy could outrun me. I ran fast and I was very confident. I did everything a boy did.

Then schools were closed and I had to sit at home because of the Taliban. For basic education, my family had to leave everything behind. We had to leave our country for Pakistan so I could study.

As I grew up, I realized that I was treated differently from my brothers. I was treated differently from my classmates. I was treated differently from my playmates, the boys. I was treated as a second sex.

When I walked, someone would tell me, ‘Walk like this.’ When I talked, someone would tell me, ‘Talk like this.’ I could not smile or laugh because it was not appropriate for a girl. I could not look into people’s eyes. As a girl, you should never look into people’s eyes, especially a man.

I changed from a smiling girl, a happy girl, into someone who would not look into people’s eyes, who would not try to get out of the house, who hated people, especially men, because they had all the opportunities. I looked at men and I looked at boys and they were free. They walked about freely and I could not, so I hated them.

Then I read an article by Simone de Beauvoir. She said “A woman is not born a woman, a woman is made a woman.”

That sentence made me buy her book, The Second Sex, and read it. That book changed my life. It taught me that I was not the only woman in the world that feels like I do. That I am not alone anymore. That there have been and there are women in the world who feel like me, who are like me.

I don’t feel alone anymore. The Second Sex changed my life.

And now I stand here in front of you looking into your eyes and saying that a woman is not the second sex. I am not the second sex.

'Worse than the Taliban'

April 2, 2009 I have been in Afghanistan for three months. I have become accustomed to the sights, sounds, and smells of Kabul. I know my way to Shar-i-Naw Park, Chicken Street, and Parliament. I know a few stock phrases in Dari. ("chi gap as?" ""What's up?" "U ketab e kis?" "Whose book is this?" "manda nabAshen!" "May you not be tired!" "zenda bAshen!" "May you live long!") I have a novice's eye and ear for the culture. I understand that a woman must not ask a man the name of his wife. I know that only men pray in mosques, and on the rare occasions when women do enter a mosque, they sit in a separate room. I know that Shiite Personal Law Article 91 states that "Man can marry with four women." And Article 132 requires that "Wife is obliged to obey man if he wanted her for sexual matters."

Afghan women struggle to emerge from the long shadow cast by decades of Soviet occupation and Taliban repression. They chafe at the restraints of a culture that dictates their behavior and relegates them to second-class status. Many brave Afghan women have taken up the fight on behalf of their Afghan sisters. Theirs is a Sisyphean battle, doomed to repeat itself down the generations. The optimist in me says Afghan women can prevail. The skeptic in me says not without blood, sweat, and tears. The cynic in me says the obstacles are too great. My money is on the skeptic.

The news story below deals a vicious blow to the hope of equal rights for Afghan women. I understand that particulars of the law signed by President Karzai are especially galling in their detail and implications for the future of Afghan women.

The Guardian ~~ London ~~ Tuesday March 31, 2009
'Worse than the Taliban' - new law rolls back rights for Afghan women
Jon Boone in Kabul

Hamid Karzai has been accused of trying to win votes in Afghanistan's presidential election by backing a law the UN says legalises rape within marriage and bans wives from stepping outside their homes without their husbands' permission. The Afghan president signed the law earlier this month, despite condemnation by human rights activists and some MPs that it flouts the constitution's equal rights provisions.

The final document has not been published, but the law is believed to contain articles that rule women cannot leave the house without their husbands' permission, that they can only seek work, education or visit the doctor with their husbands' permission, and that they cannot refuse their husband sex. A briefing document prepared by the United Nations Development Fund for Women also warns that the law grants custody of children to fathers and grandfathers only.

Senator Humaira Namati, a member of the upper house of the Afghan parliament, said the law was "worse than during the Taliban". "Anyone who spoke out was accused of being against Islam," she said.The Afghan constitution allows for Shias, who are thought to represent about 10% of the population, to have a separate family law based on traditional Shia jurisprudence. But the constitution and various international treaties signed by Afghanistan guarantee equal rights for women. Shinkai Zahine Karokhail, like other female parliamentarians, complained that after an initial deal the law was passed with unprecedented speed and limited debate. "They wanted to pass it almost like a secret negotiation," she said. "There were lots of things that we wanted to change, but they didn't want to discuss it because Karzai wants to please the Shia before the election."

Although the ministry of justice confirmed the bill was signed by Karzai at some point this month, there is confusion about the full contents of the final law, which human rights activists have struggled to obtain a copy of. The justice ministry said the law would not be published until various "technical problems" had been ironed out.

After seven years leading Afghanistan, Karzai is increasingly unpopular at home and abroad and the presidential election in August is expected to be extremely closely fought. A western diplomat said the law represented a "big tick in the box" for the powerful council of Shia clerics.

Leaders of the Hazara minority, which is regarded as the most important bloc of swing voters in the election, also demanded the new law. Ustad Mohammad Akbari, an MP and the leader of a Hazara political party, said the president had supported the law in order to curry favour among the Hazaras. But he said the law actually protected women's rights."Men and women have equal rights under Islam but there are differences in the way men and women are created. Men are stronger and women are a little bit weaker; even in the west you do not see women working as firefighters."Akbari said the law gave a woman the right to refuse sexual intercourse with her husband if she was unwell or had another reasonable "excuse". And he said a woman would not be obliged to remain in her house if an emergency forced her to leave without permission.

The international community has so far shied away from publicly questioning such a politically sensitive issue. "It is going to be tricky to change because it gets us into territory of being accused of not respecting Afghan culture, which is always difficult," a western diplomat in Kabul admitted. Soraya Sobhrang, the head of women's affairs at the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission, said western silence had been "disastrous for women's rights in Afghanistan"."What the international community has done is really shameful. If they had got more involved in the process when it was discussed in parliament we could have stopped it. Because of the election I am not sure we can change it now. It's too late for that."But another senior western diplomat said foreign embassies would intervene when the law is finally published.

Some female politicians have taken a more pragmatic stance, saying their fight in parliament's lower house succeeded in improving the law, including raising the original proposed marriage age of girls from nine to 16 and removing completely provisions for temporary marriages."It's not really 100% perfect, but compared to the earlier drafts it's a huge improvement," said Shukria Barakzai, an MP. "Before this was passed family issues were decided by customary law, so this is a big improvement."

Karzai's spokesman declined to comment on the new law.

Greetings from Kabul

March 9, 2009 I am a Templeton woman. My grandfather, John Wesley Templeton, was one of seven children – six boys and one girl – who grew up in a rough-and-tumble household in Palo Alto, California with strict parents who kept a bottle of whiskey in the home “for medicinal purposes” only.

My mother was the only child of John and Lorraine Templeton. My great-uncle, Dink Templeton, a 1920 Olympics gold medalist with the U.S. rugby team, and his wife, Cathy, had two daughters: Jean and Robin (Binnie). Between them, Jean and Binnie have 8 children. Those 8 children, including Robin and Marti, Jean’s daughters, are my second cousins.

It has only been later in life that Robin and Marti and I have discovered each other as cousins and as friends, and I count myself lucky to have these two amazing women in my life. Both are artists. Robin’s medium is the written word. She is a novelist and a poet and a teacher. Marti paints extraordinary canvasses, filled with vibrant worldly images, both material and ethereal.

Last week, Robin was selected to read an original poem at the 27th annual Santa Cruz [California] Celebration of the Muse. I asked her if I could share the poem she wrote and she agreed. Her writing reminds me of the power of words to move and inspire.

With love and thanks, Robin, I share your poem here.

(for Ann and her Afghan Sisters- tashakor!)

Greetings from Kabul!

I AM FINE! my cousin Ann writes.

She is working in Afghanistan,
trying to bring some order to the country.
I write progress reports, she says.

Shuttered in a pink guest house,
built by a drug lord, with Persian rugs,
marble floors, she’s grateful for the Afghan cook
who prepares American cuisine,
for the private bathroom with a hot shower.

I can’t go outside on foot, at all.
Every Friday, I go to town
in an armored truck
with a driver and bodyguard.

Children sell gum in the streets.
Donkey carts mix with taxis.
Women in burkas beg on the corners,
mingle with prostitutes, also in burkas,
their fingernails colored-coded.

I express my fears reluctantly.
She knows what I’m thinking:
Rocket attacks, kidnap, rape, beheadings.

I’m not afraid.
Wherever you live,
circumstances quickly
become the norm.

She and I share a matriarchal bloodline
have sought the edge most of our lives.
Lately, mine blunts as hers sharpens,
a bone-handled paradigm.

She asks for photographs of my three grandsons,
to hang in office, to remind her of home.
I imagine their faces adorning her wall,
worry what passersby will think of these fair, All-American boys.

She insists we only hear the bad news.
I’m trying to raise money
for my friend Humaira Haqmal.
who drives the Taliban-controlled district
to Kabul every day to teach at the law school.
Humaira works with the Afghan Sisters Movement.

I stumble on spelling Afghan.
The “h” unsettles me.
Is this the first time I’ve written the word?

I am going to raise money for Humaira, my cousin vows.
I am going to write about these Afghan women.

Humaira, Humaira, of an arranged marriage,
who is raising six children,
has registered 600 women
for the August election.

August election? Where have I been?

My cousin is keen
on the incoming 17,000 American troops.
I remember her as a pacifist,

imagine the juxtaposition
of her carefully placed head scarf
and the carefully placed body guard.

I love the Afghan people.
I love the city of Kabul.

Soft rain taps the roof.
I email Ann at midnight
from my warm bed,
my husband snoring softly beside me.
I think of her friend Humaira,
stopped at a roadblock,
wonder what she is wearing,
how she speaks to the soldiers.

Tashakor
Thank you

--Robin Somers March 7, 2009

Humaira Haqmal and the Afghan Sisters Movement

February 27, 2009 One of my greatest pleasures since I have been in Kabul has been getting to know a group of women law professors who have been in Kabul since January polishing their English language skills. One of my colleagues asked me if I would be willing to spend a few mornings a week with them speaking in English. I was delighted. (Left to right in the photo: Humaira Haqmal, Nadia Noorzi, Anargul Mansouri, Noor Jahan Xousfuzai, and Nadia Alkan.

Over the weeks, a deep bond of friendship has formed between us. They have told me what it was like to live under the Taliban when women were not allowed out of their homes. One of them said the best thing about the Taliban was that women had more babies because they could not leave home! They have explained the benefits of arranged marriages. With one exception, all believe this system works. And, indeed, “arranged” does not mean that their parents round up a stranger. It means they likely marry the son of family friends, someone they have known at a distance. They have told me that they are paid the same as their male law professor counterparts. They love their work and they love their families.

At one of our morning gatherings, Humaira Haqmal, a Professor at Kabul University’s Faculty of Law and Political Science, wife and mother of 6 children, and President of the Afghan Sisters Movement, mentioned in a quiet voice that she would be traveling to Washington, DC in March to receive the Jeane Kirkpatrick Award from the International Republican Institute for her work to support and restore the rights of Afghan women. (Humaira Haqmal is on the left in the photo; Nadia Noorzi is on the right.)

The Afghan Sisters Movement is a nonprofit organization which encourages Afghan women to find their political voices, to participate in political activities, and to vote. Humaira is a tireless and fearless advocate for women’s rights and human rights. To date, she has registered over 600 women to vote in the August 2009 presidential election. She is one of many Afghan women who grew up under Soviet occupation and then under the Taliban regime and is committed to ensuring that Afghan women play a vital role in Afghan society.

Coming so soon after my experience in the Obama campaign, I have been fascinated to learn more about Humaira’s work. This is what I will carry away with me when I return home: the courage and determination of Afghan women to claim their place in society. It’s a tall order in a culture where custom and tradition still label women as second-class citizens. My money is on Humaira and the Afghan Sisters Movement.

Head Scarves

February 12, 2009 All of the Afghan women I know cover their heads with scarves. Homemakers, professional women, young and old. Heads covered. This is Islamic tradition and Afghan women follow it without fail, even in their own homes.

I brought five scarves with me to Kabul and I have acquired another 5 since I have been here. I, too, wear my head covered but without the grace and dignity of my Afghan friends.

My scarf will not stay put. It slips and slides. I fuss with it endlessly, fiddling with my conspicuously fair hair every few minutes as it flies free from my scarf. Meanwhile, my Afghan friends sit with their hands folded on their laps, fully engaged in conversation. I am in the conversation, too, but my head is swimming with negative messages. "What is wrong with you that you can't keep this scarf in place?" "They must think I am hopeless."

My friends Nadia Noorzi, Noor Jahan Xousufuzai, Anargul Mansouri, Nadia Alkan, and Shekba ask me frequently about my scarves. How many do I have? Which is my best scarf? Their scarves run the gamut from the chic Marilyn Monroe look -- square silk scarf knotted under the chin -- to long chiffon with bling to yards of silk with mink tassels. In the mornings before I meet with my friends, I take extra care with my scarf.

So it was this morning that I decided to pull out my "good" scarf, the lavender silk scarf I bought to wear to the Inaugural Ball at the U.S. Embassy in Kabul. I swirled the silk scarf around my neck and then decided to cover my head with a second scarf -- second best, at that.

When I arrived at the Safi Landmark Hotel in Kabul for my get together with my friends , they admired the lavender silk scarf. "Very pretty, like your eyes," Nadia complimented me.

And then, halfway through our time together, Anargul, seated across from me, tilted her head slightly and smiled at me. "Why do you wear two scarves?" she asked. Clutching the back-up scarf, I said, "I don't know. Shall I take it off?"

They all chuckled and nodded their heads. Under their watchful eyes, I swiped the scarf off my head, folded it, and tucked it in my purse.

"Now," Noor Jahan said, "cover the lavender scarf over your head."

And so I did, to a chorus of "Oooohs."

I smiled broadly, and then Sekba said something in Dari to the group. Anargul translated: "Now you have good personality," she said, smiling right back at me.

I had to come all the way to Kabul to finally make a fashion statement!