The story of Parisa Azadeh, a journalist and women’s rights activist
Report and narrative: Fariba Faizi
More than two years have passed since her release from a Taliban prison in Afghanistan, but some images still take her back to those days. Seeing a man wearing a turban or lungi, a police vehicle passing by, a gun, or anything associated with that period can be enough to make her hands tremble and leave her feeling as if she is back in that experience.
Before her arrest, she was a journalist and women’s rights activist who took part in women’s protests in Afghanistan. She says that before prison she was a woman who laughed loudly, spoke a lot in groups, and was not afraid to attend protests—even when the Taliban opened fire on protesters. After prison, she changed in many ways.
“After prison, I stopped laughing from the heart. I never laughed loudly again.”
I Thought Prison Was Just a Room
Before her arrest, she, too, imagined prison as a room where a prisoner was given bread and water and then released after some time.
Her experience in a Taliban prison was far from that idea.
She says that sometimes she survived for three days on only a piece of bread and some water. There was no daylight in her cell, and she could not tell whether it was day or night. During winter, her clothes remained wet and smelled of dampness. She coughed frequently, and her chest hurt when she spoke or coughed.
“I couldn’t even tell how day and night were passing because I saw no light.”
The only time she could tell whether it was day or night was when she was taken out of the room for interrogation.
She also describes beatings, torture and insults during interrogations. According to her, she was required to accept the accusations made against her. She says she could not say no and was forced to confirm what her interrogators said.
The physical effects of that period remained after her release. She says one of her eyes was swollen after being struck, her hearing was affected, and she had difficulty moving because of severe back pain, which she attributes to being left hanging in her cell for two days.
Her treatment continued for about two and a half months after her release. At times she was not fully conscious; a doctor came to her home, and she received physiotherapy.
The Day of Her Release
On the morning of her release, she still did not know that she was going to be freed.
She was taken out of her cell, put into a vehicle, and her head and face were covered with a blanket. She was taken to another place she did not know. She says a woman took her into a room, where she later realized there was a camera.
According to her, the woman told her to remove her clothes and searched her body and mouth. At the same time, she says she was insulted and told that girls like her were immoral. She was even told that after her release she could take a photograph of her backside, post it on Facebook, and claim that the mujahideen had beaten her.
At that moment, she did not know whether she was actually going to be released or transferred somewhere else. During her detention, she had been moved several times.
As daylight came, she was taken to another room and forced to sign a pledge. She was then filmed holding the paper. She describes this as a form of forced confession.
She was then released and handed over to her family. Her family was also forced to give a pledge.
She says she was completely confused and exhausted when she saw her family. When she saw her father, she was afraid of him. She describes him as tired, distressed, sleep-deprived and worried.
Her mother hugged her and cried. Her brother also hugged her. She was coughing heavily and was in poor physical condition.
Her mother, who is a doctor, contacted colleagues, and she was taken to a health facility for treatment. She says her whole body hurt and that coughing caused pain in her sides and other parts of her body. She had breathing difficulties for a period and received oxygen.
She remained in Afghanistan for nearly four months after her release. According to her, her father was repeatedly contacted and questioned about where the family was and whether they had left the country.
She also could no longer return to her previous activities. She says her Facebook account had been linked to several other accounts and that for a long time she did not have control over it. Her Twitter account had also been taken over, and her Facebook activity was checked and controlled. Even later, she sometimes lost access to Facebook.
While she was outside Afghanistan, people went to her family home in Afghanistan and took her brother from inside the house. According to her, he was held at a district police station and beaten.
Eventually, her family was also forced to leave Afghanistan.
Friends Who Cut Contact Out of Fear
She says most of her friends who remained in Afghanistan blocked her through every means of communication and cut off contact with her. According to her, they were afraid of being threatened or put at risk themselves and believed that staying in contact with her could expose them to danger.
“They think I am a dangerous person and a threat to them.”
But friends who had left Afghanistan later unblocked her because their fear had decreased and they were no longer exposed to the same pressures and threats as those who remained inside the country.
Blamed by Her Family
After her arrest, members of her family blamed her. Her father, in particular, told her that because of her activities, they had lost their home, their country, relatives, friends and their previous life.
She says she understood and accepted what they told her and felt she had nothing to say in response or to protest, because the family really had been forced to leave Afghanistan.
Forced Migration
After nearly four months in Afghanistan, the most important decision she was forced to make was to leave the country.
She says she no longer felt safe, was not allowed to continue her media activities, and could not return to her previous life and work. Her father decided that she should leave the country.
Leaving Afghanistan was not easy. She was still physically ill and went to a country whose language and culture she knew almost nothing about.
“I had left my country and come to a country where I understood almost nothing about it—its language, its culture, nothing.”
I Became Very Broken
She says her personality changed after prison.
“I changed a lot. I became much more aggressive and withdrawn. I have less patience and less tolerance.”
She says she no longer takes care of herself as she once did and cannot even remember the last time she combed her hair.
Before prison, she says, she was a lively young woman who laughed loudly. Even her mother, because of the conservative nature of Afghan society, would sometimes tell her not to laugh loudly because people would talk.
“Before prison I laughed very loudly… but after prison I stopped laughing from the heart, and I never laughed loudly again.”
A Fear That Is Still With Her
More than two years have passed, but the nightmares and fears of that period continue.
If she sees a man wearing a lungi or turban, a police vehicle, a gun, or anything connected to that period, her body reacts. Her hands and feet tremble, and she feels as though she has returned to that time.
She says that no one who has not experienced it themselves can fully understand what happened to her—not her family, not her friends, and not others.
After prison, she also became afraid of crowds and busy places. If a door is slammed hard, her hands and feet may begin to tremble.
She compares this change with who she was before her arrest. She took part in protests and was not afraid even when the Taliban were firing.
“I lost my courage.”
She does not agree with the idea that prison necessarily makes a person stronger.
“One sign from that time, from the prison, can crush you again and break you.”
I Am Still Active
Despite these changes, she has not abandoned her activism.
She says she no longer has the energy and enthusiasm she once had, but she has continued, as she puts it, “half-alive.”
After about a year and a half of living in hiding outside Afghanistan, she again took part in several protest programs, spoke to the media, and wrote about the situation in Afghanistan. She continued these activities after leaving the country, taking part in different programs, giving interviews, and speaking about the situation of women and others in Afghanistan.
She says that whenever she has an opportunity to speak, she tries to be a voice for Afghan women—women who remain inside the country and who, because of restrictions, can no longer take to the streets and protest as before.
“We came out half-alive. We have to be their voice and their loudspeaker.”
When You Cannot Even Choose the Color of Your Socks
She says the media have spent years reporting on Afghan women’s exclusion from work, education and social life, but many details of women’s everyday lives receive less attention.
To explain this, she goes back to her time as a student at Kabul University.
She says that at the time she was not even allowed to choose the color of her socks. Once, she wore flesh-colored socks and, because of that, was locked for about 45 minutes inside a metal container in a university dormitory.
According to her, this happened in Saratan, one of the hottest months in Afghanistan. The door of the container was locked. In addition to taking her socks, she says they accused her of “playing with words” and confined her there for it.
She says that at the time, it was not only her but other female university students who lacked such basic choices.
Today, she says, the situation for women is worse. Her friends in Afghanistan rarely leave their homes, and when they have to go out, they cover themselves extensively to avoid being questioned. Even then, they may be challenged over the color of their clothing.
She gives the example of a friend who wore white shoes with black clothes. According to her, the woman was stopped outside and told that her shoes were masculine and that she had to wear women’s shoes.
In her view, these details need to be seen and documented because restrictions on women are not limited to the denial of education, work or travel. Even choices about clothing, shoes, socks and makeup can be controlled.
She says the media should show these details one by one so that the world does not see only a general picture of the situation of Afghan women, but understands how restrictions have entered the smallest parts of their lives.
“I want to be the voice of all Afghan women.”
Editorial note: This report is based on an interview with Parisa Azadeh. Accounts of detention, abuse, surveillance and threats are presented as her testimony.
About the Author
Fariba Faizi is an Afghan journalist and women’s rights advocate whose work focuses on documenting the experiences of Afghan women and human rights defenders. Her reporting explores the impact of repression, conflict, and restrictions on women’s lives and freedoms. She holds a Master’s degree in Diplomacy, Law and Commerce and has worked in journalism and civil society.