The cage and the door

When I hear news about Afghanistan, I often feel a chill that makes me shiver. This year, in 2025 alone, more than 2.5 million Afghans deported from Iran and Pakistan—almost half of them women and girls—have been forced to return to a country ruled by the Taliban: a reality that exposes them to poverty, violence, and unprecedented restrictions.

I believe this reality, which I myself experienced, can only be fully understood from within. I grew up locked away in those same circumstances: I lived behind physical, invisible walls, with rules that controlled my life down to the slightest gesture. But inside, there was always an image I held dear: the cage where I lived had a door. A closed door, yes, but one that I could open sooner or later. That awareness was my form of resistance. While my body was trapped, my mind flew free: I thought, imagined, and dreamed of change.

Today, when I accompany girls at Ponts per la Pau who come with similar stories, I repeat what I told myself: "The cage cannot capture thought. You have the key. And when your time comes, you can open the door." This isn't just advice. It's an invitation to resist from within.

To understand the magnitude of what they're experiencing, we must look beyond the numbers: Afghan women are still unable to resume their studies beyond primary school—Afghanistan is the only country in the world that completely excludes them from these basic rights. In the health field, they have been prohibited from training as midwives or nurses, leaving the health system even more vulnerable. And the imposition of strict dress codes that cover the entire body, reinforced by the arrest of women accused of not complying, is another weapon used to make them invisible and silence their voices.

But despite this stifling environment, Afghan women continue to fight from within. Many have found hope in secret education, online programming classes, or digital universities clandestinely created by brave and committed women. They are glimmers of light that break the darkness of control, a virus of hope that circulates silently and transforms into liberation.

The international community has begun to react. This July, the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants against Taliban leaders for the systematic persecution of women and girls—actions considered crimes against humanity. But we know that these legal mechanisms do not reach women who live in fear daily. The doors remain closed to them. Therefore, there is a collective responsibility not to forget. Through personal stories, support, and small but constant actions, we can begin to open these doors together.

Freedom begins when a woman, marked by imposed silence, decides to think freely. When she holds that image of the cage with a door inside her. And when, convinced she can do it, she puts the key in and opens it. This isn't just a lesson from the past: it's a promise of the future for all of us.