This is how I can continue studying in Kabul, despite the Taliban's ban.

KabulI've always dreamed of doing a master's degree in journalism. It was a feasible dream until... The Taliban returned to power in 2021 and they became a nightmare for all the women who lived in Afghanistan. We were expelled from high schools and universitiesAnd our future was suddenly shattered. Plans that once seemed feasible now appear completely unattainable.

Nevertheless, I haven't given up and I still believe the Taliban won't be in power forever. That hope led me to look for a scholarship to study abroad. However, getting a scholarship isn't easy. You have to provide a lot of academic documentation, take exams and aptitude tests, and have a lot of patience in a place like Afghanistan, where nothing is stable and everything can change at any moment.

I realized then that, without an official English certificate, I had no chance of opening a door to an opportunity, even though I speak and write the language perfectly. So I decided to sign up for an online English course, until a friend suggested we go to in-person classes together in Kabul. "But can women go?" I asked, surprised. "Yes, girls still attend classes," she assured me.

An unbeatable location

Despite my reservations, I went. The classes were held in an unbeatable location: an apartment on the fifth floor of a building that also houses a fairly busy shopping center. The constant flow of people made it easy to go unnoticed. However, I entered feeling anxious, and the first question I asked the person in charge of the classes was, "Is it dangerous to study here? And what will we do if the Taliban come?" The man seemed calm and assured me that I had nothing to worry about because, in case the Taliban discovered us, they had a solution. He didn't specify what it was, though.

His words didn't reassure me, and I became even more worried when I saw that the course instructors were all men. The Taliban have forbidden men from teaching girls, just as women are not allowed to teach boys. In fact, a few days earlier, they had arrested a teacher and his students in Balkh province, in northern Afghanistan, accused of "immorality."

I have no problem being taught by a man, and I've had male teachers before, but now, with the Taliban's restrictions, I couldn't help but be nervous. However, I had a very clear goal: to prepare for an official English exam and get the coveted certificate to apply for a scholarship abroad. So I accepted the risk.

Things got even more complicated when I realized that in the course, boys and girls studied together in the same classroom, something the Taliban have also completely forbidden. If we met, we'd have no excuse and would be arrested.

That night, when I got home, my father asked me about the classes. I replied that the space was safe, that the teachers were women, and that there was no problem. I lied, because if I had told the truth, he probably wouldn't have let me go back.

Specifically, in my class there were seven girls and six boys, and the teacher was a man. For the first two weeks, everything went perfectly, until one day, at 3:30 in the afternoon, a loud alarm suddenly sounded just as we were having a debate class. I was speechless. The teacher and the boys ran out, and one of the students sat behind the teacher's desk to pretend to be the teacher. Another girl yelled at me, "Put on your mask!" and I quickly covered my face. Then I realized that the Taliban morality police had just arrived. My hands were shaking, and I felt like someone waiting to be arrested after committing a crime. What would become of me?

Bribes to the Taliban

After ten minutes, the teacher and the male students returned. "The alarm that sounded was a warning bell for the arrival of agents from the Ministry of Virtue Promotion and Vice Prevention," explained the course leader, downplaying the incident. "Don't worry, we know how to negotiate with them," he added without elaborating, but I assumed they were bribing them to let us study.

Despite the scare, I continue attending the in-person English classes. I admit I go anxious; I can't help it. But I try to stay calm, thinking that, whether I like it or not, this is the only way I can get an official English certificate and one day be able to leave Afghanistan to continue my studies.

In fact, the classes have become not only a way to learn a language but also a way to stay alive. Every time I sit with other women and learn a new word, I feel like I'm not completely silenced. I have the feeling of moving forward, of being able to choose, and that my future hasn't been completely taken from me.