In the seven long months since the U.S. withdrawal, Afghans have endured a mighty struggle. Women have seen their rights disappear. Children have become chattel. Left-behind allies struggle to evade the Taliban, draining their finances to stay fed while awaiting a seemingly mythical evacuation.
Though physically removed from their homeland, Afghans in the United States have also been deeply affected by the struggles of their countrymen and loved ones. This is particularly true for two Afghan women fighting against the chaos left in the aftermath of the international community’s departure.
Rahima, whose name has been changed for her protection, has been a U.S. resident since 2014 and a citizen for around three years. But when she learned the Taliban had captured Afghanistan, she felt severe anxiety leaving her home on the West Coast. During the Taliban’s first regime, Rahima’s father insisted his daughters learn English in secret. The girls belted their English books to their bodies underneath heavy burqas. Sometimes, they narrowly escaped detection and serious consequences.
Only one of Rahima’s sisters, a special immigrant visa applicant with a Priority-2 referral to the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program, remains in Afghanistan. Though she had the proper documents to evacuate from Hamid Karzai International Airport in August 2021, she was left behind. For several months, Rahima’s sister moved between relatives’ homes until family members no longer wished to take on the risk of sheltering her. Rahima’s sister now lives in an apartment with her small children, her mother, and her husband, a taxi driver who is unable to find work.
Since August, Rahima has worked two jobs and delivered for DoorDash to cover her family’s expenses and send her sister around $600 a month for rent, food, and basic supplies. Rahima’s husband is also working multiple jobs to support his family in Afghanistan. Though his parents should be eligible to come to the U.S. soon, Rahima says they will not leave without her husband’s brother, whose wait for a sibling visa will likely be around 14 years.
The stress of the past seven months has made her hair fall out in patches. Anxiety medications provide no relief. Rahima said that other Afghans in the U.S. “are going through the same scenario.”
Lawful permanent resident Kawser Amine has also experienced the difficulty of supporting Afghans in the wake of the U.S. withdrawal. After high-profile efforts to bring professional Afghan women’s soccer players to safety left three players behind, Amine, a nine-year member of the Afghan women’s national soccer team, sprung into action as an advocate. Because she lacked the power individually to bring the endangered women to safety, Amine took on an even loftier goal. She wants to start a new movement “to connect all Afghan women worldwide” so that Afghan women are empowered to make use of their basic human rights, including access to education and participation in sports. Amine says the endeavor will endure long after the Taliban’s inevitable collapse because, in her homeland, accomplished women are often perceived as troublesome and undesirable as spouses.
Amine is particularly interested in involving younger generations of Afghans in her movement. The established political elite, she said, created “all [the] mess.” Amine believes the younger generation will clean it up.
Beth Bailey (@BWBailey85) is a freelance writer from the Detroit area.
