In a small corner of the world, where mountains kiss the sky and the wind carries ancient stories, I was born not just into a country called Afghanistan, but into a world where peace was more of a dream than a reality. I am an Afghanistani girl, and for as long as I can remember, the word “peace” has been a whisper of hope, softly echoing in our prayers, lullabies, and silent wishes.
Peace to me is not just the absence of war. It is the freedom to walk to school without fear. It is the right to learn, to laugh, and to live without the shadow of violence. When I imagine peace, I see children flying kites in blue skies without drones above them. I see mothers planting flowers instead of burying their loved ones. I see a homeland where dreams are no longer casualties of conflict.
Growing up, I often asked my mother what peace felt like. She smiled sadly and said,
“Peace is when your heart doesn’t race every time you hear a loud sound.”
That stayed with me. Because even now, sometimes when the wind slams the door shut, my heart still skips a beat.
But despite everything, I believe in the power of peace. I believe that every girl who dares to write, to speak, and to stand is already sowing the seeds of peace. We may be small, our voices may tremble, but our hope is unshakable. I write today not just for myself, but for every Afghanistani girl who still believes that one day, we won’t have to fight to be heard.
Peace is not something given. It is something we must build word by word, choice by choice, hand in hand. I am ready to build it. Are you?
– ‘Fazina’
Letter received from our students participating in our Mentorship program. Name and text altered for protection of our students and for grammatical changes.
