FutureSheLeaders (16)
Royesh: Bahara, hello. Welcome to FutureSheLeaders.
Bahara: Thank you, Mr. Royesh, for giving me this chance to talk with you today and to share my story with the people of Afghanistan.
Royesh: Bahara, if you introduce yourself in one sentence, what would you say?
Bahara: That’s a hard question… I would say Bahara is someone who is creative, has curiosity inside her, and wishes to know her world better and understand it well.
Royesh: What image do you have in your mind when you think of Kabul?
Bahara: Yes, I do have an image… When I think about Afghanistan, I remember mountains, fear, and war.
Royesh: How long has it been since you left Kabul or since you last saw it?
Bahara: It has been almost thirteen years.
Royesh: How did you leave? In what way did you leave Kabul?
Bahara: I was about six years old when we left Afghanistan and came to Europe – to the Netherlands. Life in Afghanistan was never good, not even in those twenty years. Now, it’s even worse, as you know. We lived in fear there. My mother and father were always afraid that one day someone might kidnap their children. That’s why we escaped from Afghanistan and came to the Netherlands.
Royesh: And during all this time, have you ever gone back to Afghanistan?
Bahara: No, not yet. I really hope, someday, I will be able to go.
Royesh: Do you still keep in touch with anyone in Afghanistan? Do you talk to people there?
Bahara: Yes, of course. We still have many friends and family in Afghanistan – my aunts, uncles, and cousins are there. We have a good image of Afghanistan from them because what we see in the media or in the news is very different from the reality. I’m glad I have people there from whom I can ask about the real situation.
Royesh: Even though you’ve been living in the Netherlands all these years and your Dutch has improved so much, you still speak Persian beautifully. Do you practice Persian a lot at home?
Bahara: Thank you, that’s very kind of you. You know, I came to the Netherlands when I was very young. Here, there is a system that tries to make you adapt to their culture very quickly. At that time, I was little. I could read and write Persian, but after we came here, I forgot it quickly, because Dutch was taught to us intensively. I felt a bit heartbroken that I had forgotten how to read and write my own language. Luckily, I grew up in a family that really loves Persian and uses it a lot. My uncle and my mother are very strong in Persian – they love literature and poetry. They taught me a lot and always talked with me about the Persian language.
Royesh: Do you still work on your Persian now? Do you write or read in Persian?
Bahara: Slowly, yes. I’ve started again – you might not believe it – but I actually started relearning reading and writing from YouTube! We’re lucky to live in a time where technology helps us so much. I’ve started again, step by step.
Royesh: Now, as a girl who left Afghanistan at such a young age, when you look back at your life, do you see migration more as a wound and pain, or as an opportunity?
Bahara: I think anyone who migrates and comes to a new country faces many challenges. We definitely did, too. A new language, a new culture, new people, new teachers who don’t know your language – everything is new. We went through many difficulties. But at the same time, we’ve had good opportunities. For example, in the Netherlands, we live in peace. We don’t wake up every day afraid of death or worried that something terrible might happen when we step outside. Thank God, we don’t have those fears here. There are also many opportunities for education. If someone really wants to study, they can. If they want to work, they can.
Royesh: Migration also means separation – leaving a place, like you left Afghanistan – but it also involves belonging, the connection you still have to your family, your past, and your land. How do you make sense of this separation and belonging?
Bahara: When I was a child, this question was always in my mind. On one side, I’m an Afghan girl – I was born there, grew up in Afghan culture, and my language is Persian. Deep down, I’m Afghan. But on the other side, I came to the Netherlands as a little girl. My classmates, my teachers, my friends – they’re Dutch, or from other countries. It’s a completely different culture, very different from Afghanistan. Sometimes one side thinks one way, and the other side thinks differently. Sometimes, the two worlds even clash inside you. Then you wonder: which one is right? Which one is wrong? My brother once told me something I will never forget. He said, “Always try to take the good parts from both cultures, and leave the bad parts behind.” So that’s what I’ve tried to do – to take the good from Afghan culture and keep it, and do the same with Dutch culture.
Royesh: How much do you feel you still belong to Afghanistan?
Bahara: When I was younger, I was always curious about Afghanistan and wanted to know more. But when I started at my new school here, where everyone was Dutch, sometimes I felt lonely. Sometimes, I even felt shy and asked myself, “Why am I not like the others? Why is my hair black when theirs is blonde?” At that time, as a child, you feel a sense of lacking, of being different. But later, when I became older, around 14 or 15, I started understanding who we are and where we come from. That’s when I also discovered Persian literature and philosophy – and from that time, my connection and interest grew stronger.
Royesh: In the Netherlands, you’ve been speaking out for a long time now. What made you feel that speaking up is so important – that staying silent is not an option?
Bahara: I think there was always a fire inside me. But for a long time, I was afraid of it. I was scared people would judge me or say bad things about me. What people thought of me mattered a lot back then. But then I realized something: it really doesn’t matter what others think of me. What matters is what I think of myself. When I discovered poetry and began writing, I found a way to turn those flames inside me into words. I started reciting my poems, sharing them with people. That changed me. I learned not to stay silent and to raise my voice.
Royesh: And when people listen to your poems, how do they react? What message do they take from your poetry?
Bahara: I’ve also done something a bit different, which I think is still new for Persian poetry – maybe many Afghans or Iranians aren’t familiar with it yet. It’s called “spoken word.” When I recite a poem, I use my body language. I speak with my hands, my face, my eyes. I perform it with emotions. And that makes people really feel the poem – they connect to it.
Royesh: In your poetry, what do you usually talk about? Do you write about being a girl, about being a migrant, about being young, about childhood? What inspires you the most when you write?
Bahara: Most of the time, I write when I see a lot of problems in life. In the past, I used to be afraid of problems. I thought problems were something we should avoid. But then I realized that problems actually shape who we are – they make us who we become.
When I write poems, I write about the challenges in my own life, or about the struggles of a child in Afghanistan who cannot go to school. I write about those problems, but I try to add hope to them. Yes, we have these problems – for example, right now in Afghanistan, girls are not allowed to study beyond grade six. But that doesn’t mean girls cannot learn at all. There are still other ways. For example, online education gives them a chance to continue learning and grow their knowledge.
Royesh: In your poetry, do you also express protest? Do you criticize anyone? Do you write against someone directly?
Bahara: Yes, definitely. In some of my poems, I’ve written about the Taliban. But, you know, it’s not only about saying the Taliban are bad or wrong – because their ideas come from a mindset, from a way of thinking. In Afghanistan, there are many people – both men and women – who think like the Taliban. So what’s the point if I only criticize the Taliban as a group but ignore the larger mindset behind them?
In my poems, I focus more on the mindset – the beliefs and ideas that limit women. For example, the belief that a woman should stay at home, should not go out, should not speak up, or should not work. I use my poetry to challenge that way of thinking.
Royesh: And how do you criticize this mindset in your poems? Do you have an example, maybe a line or two, that explains what you’re trying to say?
Bahara: In one of my poems, for example, I say:
“We live in a world where everything is possible.
But there are ideas and voices that pull us away from ourselves –
away from freedom, away from peace.
Someone says you cannot study,
you cannot wear the clothes you love,
you cannot speak your mind.”
This mindset locks us inside a cage where we feel trapped and cannot move forward. And the reason is, this mindset is injected into people’s minds from childhood – so for them, it feels like the absolute truth.
Royesh: You grew up in an open-minded, cultured family. At home, you were never treated in a belittling or humiliating way. But in Afghan society, many women and girls are discriminated against, oppressed, and treated unfairly. Have you ever felt that being a girl is seen as a weakness?
Bahara: Yes, absolutely – many times. It’s true that my family is open-minded, but that doesn’t mean everyone around us was. I’ve met many people who told me that women should stay at home, take care of the house, and not go to work or do anything else.
I believe it’s very important for women to know their rights and to defend them – while also respecting the rights of others. I’ve learned that women are actually very strong. If they understand their rights and stand up for themselves, they can be powerful.
Royesh: Have there been moments in your life when you felt completely alone – like there was no one to support you, hear your voice, or understand you?
Bahara: Of course. Like everyone, I’m human. There were moments when I felt very lonely. I think the loneliest time in my life was when we were living in a refugee camp. I spent two and a half years there.
At that time, I came only with my mother and my brother. My father and sisters were still in Afghanistan. Those two and a half years were very difficult for us. I often felt alone because, even though my mother was always with us physically, her heart and thoughts were always with my sisters and my father back home. My brother was young, just like me, so he couldn’t really share my feelings. That made me feel even more isolated.
But in a way, being a child helped me. As a child, you believe in possibilities; you adapt. During that time, I learned to appreciate many things and discovered so much about life.
Royesh: For example, you said earlier that you learned to appreciate many things. What exactly did you learn to value?
Bahara: I learned to value the people close to you – when your mother is beside you, when your father is beside you, appreciate them. The people who are present in your life and the words you learn from them – these are big things. Even though my parents are not here with me now, I’m in the Netherlands, living in peace, and no one can hurt me here.
Royesh: In life, there are always people who inspire us. Who has inspired you the most?
Bahara: Among the people I know personally, my uncle has inspired me the most. He has deeply influenced my love for poetry and philosophy. He’s taught me so much about literature. And my mother, of course – she has always supported me in every decision I’ve made in life. And my brother too – he always shares his experiences with me, telling me, “Bahara, if you do this, this might happen; if you choose that, this could be the result.” I’ve learned a lot from him as well.
Royesh: How did you start writing poetry? Was it an accident, a necessity, an experience, or just practice in class? How did Bahara become a poet?
Bahara: We had a teacher who always told me that every person has a unique capacity – everyone is really good at something. But I didn’t know what I was good at. I kept trying different things – drawing, writing, reading – to find it. One day, our teacher asked us to write a haiku. So I wrote my first haiku… and I loved it. That was how it started.
Royesh: And what was that first haiku? How did you feel when you wrote it?
Bahara: A haiku has three lines: the first line has five syllables, the second has seven, and the last has five. I loved the feeling of expressing a big story in just three lines. It seemed hard at first, but it was beautiful.
Royesh: What was it about?
Bahara: It was about life. It gave me such a deep, meaningful feeling when I wrote it.
Royesh: Can you translate that first haiku for us?
Bahara: Sure. First, I’ll say it in Dutch, and if I translate it, it means:
“Life is short.
Life has no guarantees.
So enjoy it.”
Royesh: Do you recite your poems in front of audiences? When people listen and look at you, what do you feel?
Bahara: When I see that my poem has touched people, when I feel it has moved something inside them, it makes me really happy. It shows me that my poetry carries meaning for someone. Of course, not everyone understands every poem – sometimes I recite in Persian and Dutch people don’t get the words, and sometimes I recite in Dutch and Afghans don’t understand. But they still feel the emotions – and that’s what matters most to me.
Royesh: In your poems, do you focus more on making people aware of suffering or on giving them hope and happiness?
Bahara: It depends on the poem and the audience. Sometimes I write free verse, just for myself, where I let my emotions guide me. If I’m heartbroken, the poem carries sadness. If I’m happy, it carries joy. But when I write about Afghanistan, it depends on the topic. If I write about the struggles and pain there, the poem holds sorrow. But if I write about hope, then it becomes full of light and optimism.
Royesh: That’s a very complex experience – sometimes writing from hope, sometimes from pain; sometimes facing injustice and heartbreak, other times holding on to dreams and possibilities. How do you balance these? How do you live with both hope and sorrow, with joy and reality?
Bahara: I think it’s because I’m human. Every human carries all these feelings inside – pain and joy, freedom and captivity, hope and despair. I feel all of them, and poetry gives me a way to express those emotions honestly.
Royesh: And when you’re deeply heartbroken – when you hear terrible news and write a poem – how long does it usually take you to come out of that state and return to your normal self?
Bahara: It really depends. But there’s something I’ve learned since childhood: I actually didn’t start with poetry – I started with writing. From the age of seven or eight, I wrote everything: short stories, thoughts, feelings, both sadness and hope. And I learned something powerful – when you put your feelings on paper, it lightens your heart.
For example, if I’m 100% heartbroken and I write about it, it feels like I leave 70% of that pain on the paper, and I carry only 30% with me. Poetry became a strong tool for me – a way to place my sadness and joy onto paper and make myself feel lighter.
Royesh: You’ve spoken at international conferences, in front of very important audiences. How is it different from reciting a poem at school or for friends, compared to standing before leaders, decision-makers, and world representatives?
Bahara: For me, I always try to stay myself. Whether I’m reciting a poem at school, at home, or in front of a president – I remain the same Bahara. When I stay true to myself, I can speak without fear and share my voice honestly.
Royesh: I remember you recited a poem about war and peace at UNESCO. What did you feel in that moment, standing on such a big international stage, talking about such an important topic?
Bahara: I felt lighter, relieved. Inside me, there was so much I wanted to express – so much frustration, sadness, and heartbreak, especially about Afghanistan. At UNESCO, I finally had the chance to share those feelings with people who could listen and understand. It gave me hope that maybe, in some small way, my words could make an impact – that they could carry the pain of Kabul to the world through my poetry.
Royesh: How old were you at that time?
Bahara: I was 18 years old, in my final year of high school. The Dutch system is different, but I think it’s equivalent to grade 12 in Afghanistan.
Royesh: And how did you get invited to UNESCO? Was it through your school or an organization?
Bahara: Before UNESCO, I had already been active in many projects. I believe when you’re active, opportunities come your way. One day, a girl who knew me – she had seen my work with a youth poetry group I had started – reached out and asked if I’d like to read one of my poems there. I said yes, and that’s how it happened.
Royesh: Which year was this?
Bahara: It was in 2024.
Royesh: And when you were at UNESCO, how did people respond – to you, to Afghanistan, to your poetry? Did they show sympathy, compassion, respect?
Bahara: Yes, I felt very good there. I spoke freely about Afghanistan, and even touched on Gaza and Israel. Sometimes, in the West, it’s hard to speak openly about such topics, but at UNESCO, I felt safe. The people were honest, open-minded, and empathetic. They truly listened.
Royesh: What was the strongest reaction you noticed? What made you feel your words had reached them?
Bahara: First, I could see it in their eyes. You can often read people’s hearts by looking into their eyes. I saw tears in some of them. I could feel their emotions. Later, many came to me and said, “What you said is so true. No child should have to live this way. Every child should live in freedom.” I felt deep empathy from them. I realized then that institutions like UNESCO and UNHCR are made up of people – people just like us, like your parents, like my parents, like everyone’s family. Each person, in their own way, wants to bring change – big or small.
Royesh: In the Netherlands – at school, among your classmates, or even at UNESCO – do you feel that people treat migrants humanely and kindly? Or do you sometimes feel there’s discrimination, prejudice, or a sense of otherness in how they behave?
Bahara: It really depends on where you are and who you’re with, because you meet all kinds of people. Among those I know personally, most of them are truly good people. They have human values inside them and genuinely want countries like ours – or other places going through difficult times – to be free and at peace.
But yes, there are always a few people who think differently. Of course, not everyone can be good. For example, here you sometimes meet people who act very nice in front of you, but behind the scenes, they may think very differently.
Royesh: And you, personally – as an Afghan girl, as a migrant – have you ever faced discrimination yourself?
Bahara: Sometimes, yes. Interestingly, it hasn’t always come from foreigners – sometimes it’s from our own Afghan community. Like I said before, there are people who believe women should only stay at home, that they shouldn’t work or have other roles.
From non-Afghans, I haven’t experienced much, but there have been rare moments where I felt a kind of jealousy – like when they see a migrant doing better or achieving bigger things. But honestly, I’ve also met many people who have always supported me and encouraged me.
Royesh: One of the very important things you’ve done is starting the “Young for Poetry” group – a youth poetry circle you created. Why did you decide to start it? And how important do you think it is for the work you want to do and the message you want to share?
Bahara: I wanted to create a space where I could share my own experiences – the things I’ve seen, studied, and learned – with other young people. My foster sister, a Dutch girl, also wanted to do the same. We realized that we had similar ideas, so we thought, “Why not start a group where we can share our messages with others?”
We wanted to create a place where young people could learn from one another and grow together.
Royesh: How many members do you have in your group now? Are you still continuing your work?
Bahara: Yes, we’re still working on different projects. For example, in one of our projects, we had about five or six young people – both girls and boys. We used to sit together, write poems, and then perform them. There was also an older woman with us who had a lot of experience in poetry and literature, and we learned a lot from her.
Now, we have another project where we meet in different places, talk about poetry, and share our poems with each other.
Royesh: You mostly write your poems in Dutch. Have you ever thought about translating your poems into Persian so your Persian-speaking audience can also connect with them?
Bahara: Honestly, when I first started writing poetry, I never imagined that my poems could have such a big impact. Back then, I was only writing for myself, or sometimes for a small group of people. But now, I see that many Afghans are interested in my poems, and maybe in the future, I will work on translating them.
Royesh: If you could choose one beautiful line from your poetry as a gift for today’s generation of Afghanistan, which one would you choose, and why?
Bahara: There’s one poem I wrote that I’ve read at UNESCO and in other places as well. It’s a long poem, but I can summarize it. In the poem, I never directly mention Afghanistan, but everyone knows it’s about a girl from Afghanistan – a girl carrying the pain of her country inside her.
Royesh: And what message were you trying to give through that poem?
Bahara: The first line goes like this:
“Freedom is the ocean of voices and flights,
and peace is the heritage of the past.”
My message in this poem is that peace and freedom are deeply connected – one cannot exist without the other.
Royesh: For you, personally, as a young Afghan woman, how do you see the relationship between peace, calmness, stability, and freedom? How are they connected?
Bahara: Right now, our country needs all three. For example, if we talk about peace – what’s the point of having peace if we don’t have freedom? Imagine a woman who cannot study, cannot go outside, cannot even visit a park. What good is peace for her then?
And on the other hand, what is the use of having freedom if there’s no peace? There are countries where people have certain freedoms, but there is still war. Even then, life is not comfortable, and neither a girl nor a man can live freely or safely.
Royesh: This program is FutureSheLeaders, where we try to nurture leadership models in girls and women. We believe women and girls hold incredible values that can help bring peace, freedom, and justice to our world.
You, as a young woman – through your poetry, your group, and your experiences – how much do you believe you can be a good example of leadership? How much do you feel you can show others that it’s possible to live a better and more beautiful life?
Bahara: Whether I’m a leader or not, I’m not sure – but I’ve always been involved in leadership activities. I’ve helped organize things in some associations and groups, working together with others.
From these experiences, I’ve learned that girls are very strong. Girls are capable of doing so many things, even changing the world. I’ve seen it many times – Afghan girls especially always want to do something meaningful for their country. They keep trying, keep working hard, and they inspire me a lot.
Royesh: Leadership also means being the voice of others – or at least helping express the concerns and hopes of your group so others get encouraged and feel they can raise their voices too.
For you, Bahara, have you ever felt that your voice goes beyond just yourself – that when you speak, you’re also speaking for other girls and women?
Bahara: Yes, absolutely. For example, when you guide and organize a group, you’re not just managing – you’re also giving people energy and confidence.
I’ve seen many times that I could inspire people, bring them together, and help them move in the same direction. Sometimes, I’ve been able to introduce an idea, and others joined in because they believed in it too. I’ve always tried to organize and guide people who are motivated and interested in working for change.
Royesh: You’re currently working as an ambassador for War Child. That’s a form of leadership, too – a way of sharing messages, influencing others, and creating impact.
What have you learned from this role – especially about the power of your voice, your ability to create change, and making an impact in your environment?
Bahara: I’ve learned a lot from my work with War Child. I’ve given many interviews with them – for TV, videos, and events – and one of the most important things I’ve learned is how to tell a child’s story in a way that people can truly understand and connect with.
I also learned something valuable from attending events where important people were present. Sometimes, they would give me feedback directly, suggesting how I could improve. From this, I realized how important it is to be open to criticism.
Because when you accept feedback, you grow – and that’s how you learn.
Royesh: When you think about your responsibilities – all the work you’ve done in different circles and spaces – what do you see as your biggest challenge? What are the things that worry you or make you feel afraid?
Bahara: As I mentioned earlier, it’s mostly about the mindset – the way some people think. There are still many people whose minds haven’t opened yet, whose way of seeing the world is very limited. Their perspective is small, and they’re not open to different ideas or possibilities.
For example, if I say something new or different, to them it seems completely impossible. That’s one of the biggest challenges I face.
Royesh: And during your journeys, as a girl moving from one place to another, have you ever felt unsafe or thought you needed a man – like a family member – to be with you? Or do you feel confident handling challenges on your own?
Bahara: I’ve always traveled alone wherever I’ve gone. I haven’t really felt in danger, but of course, sometimes when I’m in a new place, I stay more cautious. I always keep my phone close to me. If anything happens, I trust myself – I know I can call my father or brother, or even contact the police if necessary.
Royesh: As a young woman working for peace and justice, carrying the voices of girls, you’ve discovered a kind of strength within yourself. What is that strength? How did you find the confidence to believe that you won’t give up or be defeated by challenges?
Bahara: When I was 15, I found a tool – and that tool was poetry. Through poetry, I was able to empower myself. I found my voice and learned to raise it. Everyone has their own way of becoming strong – some through reading, some through writing, some through other paths. For me, poetry became my way. It gave me courage.
Royesh: When you see yourself in a position of female leadership – when you guide others and become a role model – how do you think your leadership, and the leadership of other women, is different from traditional leadership models, which are mostly male-dominated? What makes women’s leadership unique, maybe even more beautiful?
Bahara: We, as women – and history shows this clearly – lead differently. Take someone like Angela Merkel, who led Germany for 20 years. I believe we women carry a natural sense of empathy and unity.
If there have been ten thousand kings and rulers in history, almost all of them were men – and most wars have been led by men. Women were rarely ever given the chance to lead.
Of course, there were a few exceptions, like Cleopatra, who managed to lead, but those were rare.
I believe now we, as women, want to take leadership because we believe we can make this world a better place. And maybe it’s also because we were not raised to play with blood. Violence is not in our nature.
Royesh: But here’s a challenge: even great female leaders – like Merkel, Margaret Thatcher, Indira Gandhi, or Benazir Bhutto – all played in a male-dominated political system. Politics itself was designed with a male mindset: competition, power struggles, wars, and conspiracies. Women entered the game but had to play by the same rules, so the overall change in politics has been limited.
Do you think, as a girl, you can help change the mindset? Even if you don’t personally become a politician, can you inspire a shift so that even men in politics adopt a more “feminine” mindset – one of empathy, forgiveness, kindness, and cooperation?
Bahara: The truth is, we’ve never really had a truly women-led government – one where, for example, 51% of the decision-makers were women, or where half of the ministers were women. That hasn’t happened yet.
I believe real change will only come when women are genuinely included in leadership. Yes, Merkel achieved many good things for Germany, but like you said, the mindset of the system itself didn’t change much.
So how do we change the mindset? We have to start with education – and we have to start early. Children, both boys and girls, believe what they hear from adults. If we teach them the language of freedom, peace, and equality from a young age, we can raise a new generation that thinks differently.
That’s how we bring beautiful, meaningful change – if we truly want it.
Royesh: How important do you think education is in shaping and developing this mindset?
Bahara: It plays a huge role. Think about Afghanistan right now – the people who joined the Taliban, ISIS, or other groups… why did they become like this? I’m not talking about the leaders, you know that better than I do. I’m talking about the ordinary members – why do they have such a mindset?
It’s because they were raised that way. From childhood, they were shaped and sometimes even indoctrinated into this way of thinking.
Royesh: And what kind of education do you think girls should receive so that when they grow up, they develop a feminine mindset – one where women’s values are important, where empathy, kindness, forgiveness, and compassion are seen as strengths, and where dominance, anger, and war are not glorified? How can education influence this mindset in girls?
Bahara: First, we need to start with the parents. We need to teach mothers and fathers to raise their children with love, respect, and responsibility.
Teach them that both women and men are equally valuable. Everyone already knows that, physically, men are usually stronger than women – but when it comes to intelligence and thinking, girls and boys are equal.
In fact, many times, if you give both the same test, girls explain things even better than boys.
From the moment a girl is born, we must value her.
In Afghanistan, I’ve heard so many painful stories – for example, my mother, who worked as a doctor there, saw many things. She has told me countless times how, when a baby girl is born, the mother suffers emotionally because society treats it as a burden.
We have to solve this at the root – to change the way we see women. Why, in Afghanistan, do we look at women with shame, or even hatred?
It’s because this is what society has taught us. For example, when I was born, I’m sure there were people who weren’t happy – people who wished I had been born a boy.
We need to fix this from within – to teach everyone what it truly means to be a woman or a man, and to value both equally.
Royesh: And you, Bahara – have you ever personally felt that being a girl was a weakness? Have you ever wished you were a boy instead of your brother?
Bahara: Honestly, not really. Maybe a few times, yes – like when my brother had more freedom than I did.
For example, if he goes out at night, it’s seen as normal because he’s a boy. But if I want to go out at night, people see it differently.
Still, I’ve always been happy to be a girl. I love who I am and what I’ve done. I’ve never wished to be a boy. In fact, I don’t even like thinking about it.
Royesh: How much do you think your strength as a girl has influenced your ability to create impact? For example, when you speak somewhere, do you feel that your position as a young woman makes your words even stronger?
Bahara: I know what I’m saying, and when I stand somewhere to speak, I have a lot of confidence in myself. I believe in what I do and what I say. If I decide to do something, I commit to it and make it happen.
This belief in myself gives me a lot of energy and helps me achieve bigger things.
Royesh: Usually, people who live as migrants – whether in Europe, the U.S., or elsewhere – experience cultural differences and sometimes even a kind of cultural shock.
Have you ever felt a conflict between your Afghan identity and your Dutch identity?
For example, situations where Afghan culture or your family expect one thing from you, but Dutch culture encourages something completely different – or vice versa. Has this kind of inner conflict ever happened to you?
Bahara: Yes, many times. I’ve experienced it since childhood. I noticed early on that my foster sisters were very different from me, and as I mentioned before, my brother once gave me advice that really helped me: “Take the good things from every culture and leave the bad ones behind.” That has shaped my mindset a lot.
There are things in Afghan culture that I find beautiful, but in Europe they may seem unnecessary or outdated. And there are things in European culture that are completely normal here but seen as “bad” in Afghan society.
For example, here in Europe, dance is considered an expression of feelings, an art form – it’s respected. But in Afghan culture, as far as I’ve seen, many people look at it negatively. They might even call someone a “dancer” in a disrespectful way.
But if you think about it, dance is like poetry or music – it’s another form of expression. Why is it that when I read poetry, people respect me, but if I dance, they might judge me?
I once spoke with an Afghan woman who danced the traditional Attan. Can you imagine – even her own family abandoned her because she danced?
There are some things in both cultures that I still struggle to fully understand. Sometimes, I can’t relate to what my parents expect, and sometimes, I can’t understand certain parts of European culture either. It’s a process of learning from both sides.
Royesh: When you face situations where an Afghan cultural value and a Dutch cultural value come into conflict, which one do you usually choose? Do you keep your Afghan identity or your Dutch identity? Which one do you sometimes have to sacrifice?
Bahara: I always look at which one feels better and makes more sense. For example, I mentioned dance earlier – I believe dance is a beautiful thing, so in that case, I choose the Western perspective.
But there are other things where I prefer the Afghan way – like respect for parents. I choose based on what I personally believe is right.
Royesh: In Western culture, especially in education, there’s a big emphasis on individuality – judging things for yourself, making your own choices, thinking independently, and living freely without others imposing their preferences on you.
But in Afghanistan, the individual is often sacrificed for the collective – you have to see everything through the lens of your family, your community, your culture, even your country.
That’s a big contrast.
As a young Afghan woman, how do you experience this? Have you ever faced moments where your individual freedom was important to you, but your family or your Afghan identity didn’t allow it?
Bahara: There’s a Dutch saying: “…….” – it basically means you should avoid extremes. On one side, there’s the extreme of European culture, and on the other side, there’s the extreme of Afghan culture. I’ve learned to try to find the middle ground.
For example, I’m very happy to be part of a big Afghan family. If I have a problem, they’re always there to help me. And if they need me, I help them too – and that’s something beautiful about our culture.
But at the same time, as you mentioned, sometimes families, societies, or countries expect too much from you, and that can feel limiting.
What I like about living here is that these expectations are lighter. So, I try to combine the best of both worlds – to find a balance between my Afghan identity and my Dutch identity, and bring the strengths of both cultures together.
Royesh: When you work, study, or take part in social programs – things that have a broader purpose – what gives you the most energy? Is it love, hope, responsibility, pain? What motivates you the most?
Bahara: Hope. I think I’m someone who lives with a lot of hope. Of course, as I said before, our lives come with a lot of pain and heartbreak, but I also believe that pain itself can be beautiful.
What’s the point of living a “perfect” life if you’ve never felt pain? If you only live happily and never experience sadness, you never truly understand happiness. Even Buddha says – what’s the value of life if you haven’t known pain?
I believe that if we only live in joy, without ever tasting pain, we can’t really appreciate the meaning of joy itself.
Royesh: Has there ever been a moment in your life, in your work, where you felt tired or even thought about giving up – but then something pushed you to stand up again and continue?
Bahara: For me, that’s vision. If you have a vision, you also create discipline – and I believe discipline is even more important than motivation.
Because, as you say, one day your motivation may fade. Then what? What keeps you going? That’s when discipline becomes everything.
For example, I may wake up and not feel motivated, I may not want to get up early or exercise, but because I have discipline, I still follow my plan. Discipline keeps me moving when motivation disappears.
Royesh: Have you ever reached a point where you thought, “I’m done. I don’t want to do this social work anymore. I’m exhausted. I want to stop”?
Bahara: Yes, of course. Many times. I don’t do every single activity just because it’s there. If I see that something doesn’t give me energy, if it doesn’t benefit me, or if it harms my mental health, I step away from it. I try to focus only on work that gives me energy – because that energy flows into everything else I do, and even into the people around me. Some things I quit simply because I realize they are meaningless to me.
Royesh: There are many girls in Afghanistan who look up to you, Bahara – they want to draw energy and inspiration from you. If you could gift three values to the young girls of Afghanistan, what would they be?
Bahara: First, “Don’t be afraid.” Fear is natural, but you must question it. Ask yourself: “Why am I afraid? What will happen if I do this?”
I learned something important when I was younger: always ask yourself two questions.
First – “Can I do this or not?” If the answer is yes, then focus on how you can solve it – think of the steps, make a plan, and act.
Second – if the answer is no, and it’s something you cannot change, then stop worrying about it. Why waste your energy being heartbroken or crying every day over something that’s not in your control? Second, I would say, “Stay hopeful.” When you hold on to hope, life becomes easier, and your path becomes lighter.
And third, I believe the most important thing for us Afghans is to take care of our mental health. I’ve seen that many of us dream big – we want to achieve so much – f our mental health isn’t good, we carry too many wounds and resentments inside us – and when we’re full of pain, how can we create anything good in our lives?
Royesh: What is the biggest dream you hold for yourself?
Bahara: Dreams change. One day it’s one thing, another day it’s something else. I don’t focus too much on specific titles or positions – for example, I don’t sit here thinking, “I want to be the leader of Afghanistan one day.”
For me, it’s more about the journey – the path I walk in life. Right now, I’m focused on the journey itself, not the destination.
Royesh: If one day you decide to write a book about your life, what would you name it?
Bahara: “Struggle and Peace.”
Royesh: Many Afghan girls have been banned from school, facing extreme pressure and hardship. Many are trapped in deep hopelessness and don’t know how to move forward. What would you say to them, Bahara?
Bahara: I know it’s hard right now – really hard. Many girls in Afghanistan feel hopeless because so many doors are closed. But that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.
Even if you’re at home, there’s still a lot you can do. If you have a phone and access to the internet – and many do, even if it’s difficult – you already have a huge opportunity.
There’s YouTube, there are countless free learning platforms. You can search, learn, explore, and grow your knowledge. You can express yourself – through writing, poetry, art, music – and share your voice with the world.
And there’s another important thing: scholarships. Many universities in Europe and the U.S. offer scholarship programs for students from Afghanistan and other countries.
For example, if you’ve completed grade 12, you can apply to these opportunities online.
You can search: “How to get a scholarship at a university in …” and explore your options. Opportunities are out there – but you have to look for them, you have to believe they’re possible, and you have to take the first step.
Royesh: Bahara, have you ever felt hatred toward the Taliban?
Bahara: No, not at all. Because I don’t believe you can create positive change through anger and hatred.
Royesh: With that perspective, if you want to close today’s conversation with a beautiful, heartfelt message for the women and girls of Afghanistan, what would you say?
Bahara: Before I answer, I want to ask you a question first. We’ve talked so much today about female leadership – but you are a man. Do you think female leadership can be part of the solution?
Royesh: Bahara, my experience is the experience of a teacher. I’ve realized, throughout my years of teaching, that only the education of girls and women can truly change a society – it can transform its cultural vision and mindset.
You can educate boys as much as you want, but in most cases, they simply become “more boyhood,” “more manhood.”
Their perspective doesn’t shift deeply. Girls see the world differently. That’s why I’ve dedicated my work to this belief.
I founded a school called Marefat School, which was focused on educating girls and women, and I’ve witnessed the remarkable impacts it created. Even in my own home, I have six daughters – and I can honestly say, they’ve been my greatest teachers. They’ve taught me how to see life differently, how to understand empathy, patience, and resilience.
And my wife – she has taught me just as much. There are so many things she notices, feels, and understands as a woman that I simply didn’t. I often share this with my students: There were nights when one of my children would wake up crying, and I would wake my wife, asking her to tend to the child. She would comfort them, soothe them, and stay awake with them.
But then, I realized something striking – there were thousands of other nights when the child woke up sick, restless, crying – and she never once woke me. She simply stayed awake herself, carrying the weight silently, caring for them completely.
The child had a fever, was restless, and couldn’t sleep – and his mother was always right there with him.
I realized that her connection to our children, to everyone inside this home, is so different from mine. My own feeling of closeness to the children isn’t as deep as hers.
This was deeply eye-opening for me – a real lesson in life. It made me think: if motherhood carries this kind of attachment and care, then perhaps women’s leadership in society could also change so many things.
Because I see how men behave – we are often detached from humanity itself. Men decide to wage wars, to kill, to destroy, and they do it easily. But mothers would never choose that path. If a mother’s perspective shaped politics, it would be different. It would bring compassion instead of cruelty.
It would bring forgiveness instead of revenge. It would prioritize care, empathy, and inclusivity – paying attention to everyone’s dignity and everyone’s needs.
This is why I’ve focused so much of my life’s work on educating women. I don’t see this as a political project – I see it as an educational and cultural transformation. Because I deeply believe that with women’s leadership, men also benefit. This isn’t about making men powerless. It’s about helping men find a better way to live. When women lead, men don’t lose influence – they learn better ways to use it.
Instead of choosing war, they learn to choose peace. Instead of violence, they choose dialogue. Instead of destroying, they learn to build.
That’s why I’m giving you such a long answer to your question – because you asked sincerely, and I want to answer sincerely. I truly believe that women are the alternative paradigm of leadership – not just for Afghanistan, but for the entire world.
Women can introduce the world to a new lens, a new paradigm, a completely different way of thinking about life, power, and responsibility.
And when I say this, I don’t mean that women must become presidents or generals. What I’m saying is that we need a feminine way of seeing the world to become dominant in leadership – no matter whether the leader is a man or a woman. Because today, even when women reach positions of power, they are often forced to play by men’s rules. They’re placed into a male-dominated political mindset, where power is about control, aggression, and winning.
Look at history: Benazir Bhutto entered politics in Pakistan, but she had to play by the rules of a male-dominated system. She was a woman – yet, in the end, it was men who killed her. Indira Gandhi was also assassinated by men. Aung San Suu Kyi was imprisoned by men, and she remains in captivity even today. Sheikh Hasina, the Prime Minister of Bangladesh, was another woman who led within a male-dominated political arena.
And yet, just last year, it was men who forced her into exile and drove her out of her own country.
What I’m advocating for is a new paradigm of leadership – one shaped by empathy, compassion, and inclusivity. A leadership rooted in the values of care and humanity – where men and women work together, guided by a feminine vision of the world.
And with that in mind, Bahara, I want to come back to you. What is your message of hope for the girls and women of Afghanistan for when they are 30 or 40 years old? What kind of world do you dream of giving them?
Bahara: First, I want us all to come together – women and men, united – to think about Afghanistan. Until our hands join and our minds unite, we cannot create real change.
We need to dream of an Afghanistan where:
- A girl can walk outside without fear
- She can study freely
- And she can live in peace
Peace is something we must find together and work for together. Even this conversation today – it’s not just for girls; it could inspire boys too. Because when a boy changes his thinking, that change can ripple outward – it can influence fathers, mothers, grandparents, and entire families.
Royesh: Do you think this conversation could also influence the Taliban?
If they were listening right now, what would you want them to hear from you?
Bahara: Listen to the people. Listen to the voices of the children.
Because once, you were children too – and what does a child want? A child wants peace. A child wants to go to school. A child wants to feel the love of their parents, to love their homeland, and to live in dignity under a government that truly cares for its people.
Royesh: Before we close, could you share one of your poems – in Dutch and Persian?
Bahara: “Freedom is the ocean of voices and flights. Peace is the heritage of our past.”
(In Dutch… translation: “I wish for freedom, equality, and peace in our homeland.”)
Royesh: Bahara, thank you so much. You’ve shared such a beautiful, hopeful, and powerful message for your generation, for your country, and for girls everywhere.
Bahara: Thank you. And as I said earlier – I don’t hold hatred, not even for the Taliban. Because if I carry hatred, then I, too, become filled with resentment. And when my heart is full of resentment, I can’t create positive change.
The Taliban must change. And if they don’t, they should step aside and open the doors for others who want to make this country better.
Royesh: Thank you, Bahara.
Bahara: Thank you for giving me the chance to share my story – with you, and with everyone.