Afghanistan's (Thin) Red Line by Tamara Bralo

My first Afghan journalist visa lists my gender as ‘male’. The attached picture and the name on it – unmistakably those of a woman; were not quite enough to convince the consular staff otherwise. The new government was just formed, and the Taliban was gone, but this particular embassy was still lacking either stamps or imagination to grant a visa to a woman. However, while erasing a woman’s identity may have been something of a national sport in Afghanistan, the history is far more complicated and varied than this incident would suggest. The Afghan women’s rights tag-and-pull started in 1919, when women achieved a right to vote: a year before the Unites States ratified women suffrage. The instrumental figure in achieving it was Queen Soraya, the royal consort of the king who liberated Afghanistan from British rule. She later became the country’s Minister of Education and opened the country’s first school for girls.

The rule – and women’s rights - lasted for 10 years, until the king was forced by tribal leaders to abdicate. Queen Soraya is celebrated widely in Afghanistan to this day. Portrayed alongside her husband; she is the sole female figure in a sea of Afghan men adorning the walls of the Ministry of Culture and Information. The portrait is based on a famous photograph of the two, with one historical inaccuracy: unlike in the photograph, in the painting, she’s veiled. To add insult to historical injury, the Queen’s most famous public act was ripping of her veil in a council meeting in her fight for women’s equality. In more ways than one, Soraya’s veiling sets a tone for the struggle to come. The second round of battle for women’s rights starts in 1964, when women achieved formal equality through the new constitution, lasting until 1996 when Taliban took over the country for five years. What Taliban rule lacked in longevity, it made up for in ferocity: women were banned from holding a job or being outside without a male guardian, making it the most restrictive government for women of our time. The third time around, women rights were restored in 2004, with the new and improved constitution under Karzai’s leadership – with caveats, however: it was Karzai’s government that veiled Queen Soraya. It was his government that legalized martial rape for the Shiia minority, too. Since then, the results are at best mixed: on the one hand, Afghan women have better representation in parliament than women do in the US congress. On the other, female literacy hovers at 17 percent, while male stands at 45 percent. There is an all-female TV station, which may well be the only one in the world, yet 87 percent of Afghan women have been subjected to abuse. In the last couple of years, after almost 40 years of conflict, Afghanistan is now inching towards a peace deal.

Most Afghan women – understandably, given the history – view negotiations about the inclusion of the Taliban in the government with both fear and skepticism. This fear brought about a uniquely Afghan moment: #MyRedLine; an online platform that spells out what women are not willing to sacrifice in a bid for peace with the Taliban. Hundreds of thousands posted on it – including the country’s president, and responses range from refusing to give up music (formerly banned by Taliban) to insisting on continuing to play soccer. Above all else, political participation looms large in the posts. It serves as a reminder that choosing between peace and rights is not a choice with which women should be presented. It serves as a warning of a history repeating itself and a faint hope that Taliban gaining a seat at the table would not, yet again; turn into a game of musical chairs where women are left standing.