Her Memory Will Be A Flower

         Afghanistan is one of the most patriarchal societies in the world. Afghani women continue to be oppressed and silenced by the agents of fundamental conservatism, the Taliban. They are restricted to only the most traditional of roles - marrying, bearing children and running a household - and are kept strictly out of public life. The few women who dare to enter politics, medicine or other professions face routine assassination attempts.
         In her groundbreaking article in the New York Times, Eliza Griswold discovers a hidden side of this oppressive culture: the rich heritage of Afghani women poets, kept very much alive despite the danger. Griswold described her furtive meeting with a young Afghani woman who writes under the pen name Meena Muska, to conceal her identity. Meena, although only 17, has already faced a lifetime of tragedy: her fiancée recently died, and in accordance with Afghan tradition she must now marry one of his brothers. Writing poetry is the only way she can express her fear and misery; it has also served as her only means of education since her father pulled her out of school four years ago. Despite her evident skill, Meena can never share her poetry with her family for fear of being beaten, and instead she reads it secretly over the phone to the women's literary group Mirman Baheer. Meena does this at a high risk: if caught by her family, they would assume she was reading the poems to a lover, and she would be severely punished. This is a region in which honor killings are still practiced.
        Mirman Baheer has over 100 members and is Afghanistan's largest female literary society. Members who, like Meena, live in rural regions, have to participate in secrecy for their own safety. In Kabul, women can attend without fear, especially since they tend to be members of the elite, such as academics, politicians, and journalists. The women share landai, poems of only two lines, which are usually written collectively. Love and grief are common themes, but landai can be bawdy or tragic: for example, the miseries of marriage to a much-older husband, or the unending series of wars that have wracked their nation.  
        The most moving story of all, though, was that of a young woman named Zirmina, who wrote under the pen name Rahila. Zarmina was being forced into a marriage to a much-older man, instead of the marriage to the young man she loved. Zarmina's family caught her reading her poems to fellow Mirman Baheer members and assumed she had a lover. Her brothers beat her and tore up her notebooks. A few days later, Zarmina locked herself in a closet and set herself on fire, dying in a hospital a few days later. One of the leaders of Mirman Baheer wrote this landai for her:

"Her memory will be a flower tucked into literature's turban. 

In her loneliness, every sister cries for her." 

      The most tragic aspect of this is that this fate is not uncommon for young Afghani women. In a nation where 3 out of 4 women are forced into marriage, and almost all women are married before 16, her story is not uncommon. Zarmina is unique only in that she had the courage to put her suffering into words.
     As young women who have never suffered such restrictions on our words, much less our choices and actions, we were particularly moved by these stories. The poems themselves are beautiful, but far more impressive is the courage it took to speak or write those words. We hope that one day these young women will enjoy the same freedoms and opportunities that we do.

Posted by Elizabeth and Katie