FutureSheLeaders (Episode 14)
Royesh: Sahar jan, welcome to the FutureSheLeaders circle!
Sahar Moradi: Dear teacher, hello to you and to everyone watching this documentary. Thank you so much for inviting me to be part of this program.
Royesh: Sahar, you’re the third “Sahar” we’ve had in this series – three names, one beautiful meaning. I asked the same question from the other two Sahars: what does “Sahar” mean to you?
Sahar Moradi: Teacher, I saw the previous documentaries where you asked this question. For me, “Sahar” means dawn – a new morning after the darkness. In my life, I interpret it this way: no matter how hard the situation, even after the darkest and stormiest night, there is always hope… there is always a tomorrow. For me, Sahar is the promise of light after darkness.
Royesh: Do you feel that the life you’re living now is so dark that it makes the meaning of Sahar even deeper for you?
Sahar Moradi: Absolutely. It’s exactly because of this darkness that the name Sahar has become even more meaningful to me.
Royesh: What kind of darkness? When you look around you, what do you see that symbolizes this darkness?
Sahar Moradi: I mostly see ignorance and a lack of understanding. Because of certain beliefs and ideologies, many people have restricted an entire group of society – and I’m part of that group. That has made my life feel darker.
But fortunately, the meaning I’ve discovered in my own name has given me faith: I believe that I can bring light to the people around me, even in this darkness. And I truly believe I can help create change in society.
Royesh: Where were you born, Sahar? What kind of family did you grow up in, and what was your early environment like?
Sahar Moradi: I’m Sahar Moradi, born on October 28, 2006, in the narrow alleys of Barchi, Kabul, in a relatively large family. I’m the fourth daughter in my family. My father’s name is Mohammad Jawad, and my mother’s name is Khanum Gul. My father is now 53, and my mother is around 48 or 49.
We are originally from Hesa-e-Awal Behsood in Maidan Wardak Province. My father grew up in a village called Chelamjai, and my mother is from a place called Barghosonk. Later, they met each other and got married.
Royesh: And your parents – they didn’t go to school? Neither of them attended any formal education or religious madrasa?
Sahar Moradi: My mother is the eldest daughter and the second child in her family. When she was my age – the time she should have been in school – she was already carrying many household responsibilities. As my mother says, back then, for a girl to even go to the mosque for basic learning, there were no proper schools available, and people considered it shameful.
Everyone would gossip: “Look, so-and-so’s daughter goes to school!” So, she couldn’t study.
My father, too, was burdened with life’s struggles from an early age and didn’t get the chance to attend formal school. The little knowledge he has today, he gained from learning in mosques.
Royesh: Before you, did your older sisters or brothers go to school?
Sahar Moradi: I have three older sisters and three younger brothers – I’m right in the middle. My three sisters all studied, and two of them have already graduated from university. Fortunately, from my eldest sister to my youngest brother – who is now in grade seven – we’ve all been supported by my father. He’s always told us: “Your first priority in life must be your education.”
Royesh: And what about your father – what did he do to provide for the family and still manage to support your education?
Sahar Moradi: From the stories I’ve heard, my father has had different jobs at different times. But for as long as I can remember, he’s been working as a shopkeeper. Through his hard work and income from the shop, he has provided us with everything we needed – both for our daily life and our education. I truly believe my father has supported us very well, especially when it comes to our schooling.
Royesh: The house where you were born – was it your family’s own house?
Sahar Moradi: No, when I was born, we were living in a rented house. It wasn’t ours.
Royesh: And now? Do you live in your own house?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, after some time, my father managed to buy a house for us.
Royesh: Where did you study your primary and middle school years?
Sahar Moradi: I studied my primary and middle school – from grade one to grade nine – at Tarbiat School.
Royesh: How was the school environment? What memories do you have from your teachers, classmates, and those early school years?
Sahar Moradi: I have the most memories from grade one because it was my very first experience entering a formal learning environment. Back then, I truly believed I was going through a big transformation in my life. I had many friends during that time – I’ve always been a very social person and could easily make friends. On the very first day, I made two new friends!
Our teacher was incredibly kind and caring. She worked very hard to help us learn – especially to make sure we could at least read sentences by the end of grade one and solve some of our early challenges. The overall environment of our school was very friendly and supportive.
Royesh: When the Taliban returned to power this time, you were in grade nine. What do you remember most from that day? What stayed in your memory from the day they entered Kabul?
Sahar Moradi: I remember I was at school that day. We were the oldest students there – in grade nine. Our mid-term exams had just finished, and because we’d already had a long break during the quarantine, we weren’t given any summer vacation.
Classes had just started again, and everyone was excited, chatting with friends about their time during the quarantine… when suddenly, our school principal came and announced that the Taliban had entered Kabul.
Of course, there had been some rumors before, but none of us could believe it.
When the Taliban finally arrived in the city, everyone realized the government had changed – and a huge wave of shock and hopelessness fell over us all.
Royesh: How did your parents react when the Taliban returned? What did they say to you and your older sisters, especially since you were in grade nine at the time? Did they warn you to be careful, tell you to stay home, encourage you to leave the country, or even suggest marriage for your older sisters? What do you remember about your family’s initial reaction?
Sahar Moradi: I remember that when I got home that day, my parents were worried until I arrived safely. The government had changed, the situation was tense, and things felt uncertain – maybe even unsafe.
I don’t recall my mother or father ever telling us, “Don’t go to school or university anymore.” We all understood what the Taliban’s arrival meant: schools and universities would be closed. They didn’t want to put extra pressure on us or keep reminding us to stay home, because they already knew that schools and universities were closed.
My mother was deeply saddened that we could no longer continue our education, and my father felt the same. For a while, we even considered migrating to Pakistan, but for several reasons, we decided to stay.
During these past four years, though, my parents have never told my older sisters that they should get married. For our family, the priority has always been education. My father has always said:
“First, complete your studies. Marriage can wait – it’s always possible later. But your education is more important than anything else.”
Royesh: What are your older sisters doing now? How are they spending their time at home?
Sahar Moradi: When the Taliban first returned, my older sisters were in their final semester at university. One of them was studying Economics at Kateb University, and the other was studying Midwifery at Khatam-ul-Nabieen University.
After the Taliban took control, Kateb University didn’t allow girls to enter without a male guardian. In fact, they even said: “Girls shouldn’t come – send your brother or father instead.” Unfortunately, we didn’t have anyone in the family who could manage my sister’s paperwork there, so she couldn’t complete her process.
At Khatam-ul-Nabieen, though, they allowed students to continue for a while, so my other sister managed to get her diploma – although it was only a temporary one.
For some time, both of them stayed at home. But later, they decided to make the best use of their time and focus on improving their language skills.
Thankfully, today I can see both of them working on their personal growth. They read books, novels, and study materials – and I can see how much it’s helping them build their knowledge and capacity.
Royesh: When did you first get introduced to the Cluster Education programs and the Empowerment sessions?
Sahar Moradi: Honestly, my introduction to Cluster Education happened completely by chance. I think it started because of an activity you had given in the Empowerment classes – where each girl had to encourage at least one other girl every month to continue her education.
My friend Nasreen was doing that activity, and she came to me. The very first thing she told me was: “Cluster is a different place. It’s not like other schools.”
Fortunately, when I joined the Cluster and got to know more about its programs, I realized she was right – Cluster really is a unique place, so different from anywhere else.
Royesh: What was different about it? For example, when you attended your first Empowerment session or met your friends at Cluster Education, what new experience made you feel like you were stepping into a different world?
Sahar Moradi: My very first experience was the spirit of collaboration among the girls. Here, nobody competed with each other – instead, everyone supported one another.
If a new student joined and didn’t have the class notes, three or four girls would immediately offer theirs: “Take mine so you can study.”
If someone struggled with the lessons, others would say: “It’s okay, we’ll sit with you, we’ll help you, and we’ll make sure you learn.”
That was completely new for me – being in an environment where everyone was close in age, maybe one or two years apart, all studying the same subjects, but choosing cooperation over competition.
It was the same in the Empowerment program too – we learned the value of collaboration there. Through the Seven Actions of the Peace Game, we practiced working together and supporting each other’s growth.
Later, I realized this is exactly what makes Cluster different from other schools and courses. In other places, they might make us literate; they might teach us to read and write. But here, they teach us something deeper – they teach us to become aware. And that awareness changes everything.
Royesh: Tell me more about your first experiences with Empowerment. What was difficult to understand at first? What excited you and gave you energy? And was there anything that made you feel worried or afraid? Entering a new world of ideas often comes with mixed feelings – what was it like for you?
Sahar Moradi: Honestly, I felt more excitement than fear – excitement about stepping into a completely new world. The activities in Empowerment were unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I first heard the word “Empowerment” when I joined the Cluster.
One of the very first activities was team-building. Five girls would come together, five strengths would merge into one, and we would work toward a shared goal. That idea fascinated me! In other schools or courses, no one had ever taught me the importance of working together. They only said: “Focus on yourself. Study on your own.”
But here, I learned something different: if I grow alone, if I work only for myself, I become one leader guiding only a few people. But if five people come together, build one power, and grow as a team, then you create five leaders, five sources of strength, and a community where more people are guided and supported.
There were other moments of excitement too. For example, in our team, we created symbols for ourselves – small things that carried meaning and energy for us.
We would hold each other’s hands and make bracelets for ourselves. In our team, we even made small pins from bottle caps and attached them to our scarves – that was our team’s symbol. Each of us also chose a personal symbol of our own.
For my personal symbol, I chose the cactus. To me, it means this: even in the driest desert, even in the harshest conditions, you can still grow.
Royesh: How many members are in your team now, and what are the most important activities you do together?
Sahar Moradi: There are five of us in our team: myself, Asma Rezaei, Halima Zia, Basira Haidari, and Zahra Nowruzi. Since we were already close friends and shared a lot in common, we formed a team called “The Green Group.”
Each of us chose a personal symbol for ourselves. One of our main activities was the Human Library project, where we connected with other girls in the Cluster, as well as people outside our school environment. It really helped us improve our communication skills and understand people beyond our immediate circle.
Another important activity was about creating meaning through our symbols. We sat together and talked about what these symbols represent for each of us. Around that time, we were also studying “meaning-making” in our Empowerment sessions, and it was beautiful how we applied those lessons in our team.
We put real effort into designing and painting our symbols, and in the end, they became something truly special to us. I’m sure that for the rest of our lives, we’ll always carry these symbols within us – the cactus, the clover leaf, the sprout, the green heart, and the roaring river.
We also work on exploring our hidden emotions.
Today we did a special activity. We read a book and then wrote down our feelings about it.
The book we read was The Midnight Library – it’s about a girl named Nora, who is caught in endless regrets and constantly wondering about all the “what ifs” in her life.
After reading, we talked about our own ‘what ifs’ – the things we hold onto, the possibilities we imagine.
For me, it felt like I became one step closer to myself. It gave me this deep realization: the Sahar I am today is enough… and I’m already trying my best.
Another activity we’ve started recently is writing nightly reflections. Every night, I write a note to the Sahar who experienced that day. Even in just the last two nights, these reflections have taught me so much about myself – they’ve given me insights that are helping me grow.
Royesh: One of the biggest challenges you’re facing now is dealing with your emotions – especially those that come from hatred and bitterness. You’re living in an environment where you constantly experience restrictions, humiliation, insults, and injustice. Naturally, such conditions can create anger and mistrust.
In Empowerment, we often say that hatred and bitterness are like poison – before they harm others, they harm you first. So, as part of your Empowerment practice, how do you deal with this “poison”? How protected do you feel from hatred and bitterness?
Sahar Moradi: We once had an activity in our team where we talked about our current situation and shared how we felt about everything happening around us.
Interestingly, none of us spoke about hatred – not towards the restrictions, not towards the situation. I think it’s because we’ve learned, through our Empowerment exercises, to look at things differently.
We realized something important: if you hold on to hatred, it’s like drinking poison yourself, not giving it to someone else.
If you want to destroy yourself, keep the hatred. But if you want to follow your dreams and stay on your path, you must let go of it.
We practiced this through a very powerful activity: we would hold each other’s hands, close our eyes, and imagine passing positive energy from one person to the next. Then, with a deep breath, we’d release all the negative energy – letting it leave our bodies.
Doing this regularly made a huge difference. It helped us heal inside and reminded us that we’re stronger than the hatred around us.
Royesh: In Empowerment, we often talk about Limiting Beliefs – the beliefs that hold us back and, as we say, “kill our dreams.” Sometimes, when you want to achieve something, these limiting beliefs suddenly attack your thoughts, making you doubt yourself and suffocate your hopes.
Do you face strong limiting beliefs like this? And do you ever feel overwhelmed when trying to fight them?
Sahar Moradi: Absolutely. The moment we stepped out of our comfort zone, we immediately came face-to-face with these limiting beliefs.
In our society, they’re constantly pushed on us:
“The situation is too dangerous – you should just stay at home.”
“It’s not the right time to study.”
“There’s no open course or school worth attending right now.”
Sometimes, people even said things like: “How dare she still tries to study under these circumstances?”
It felt like we were being told, over and over again, that what we were doing was wrong.
But these limiting beliefs didn’t stop us. In fact, through them, we discovered our growing edge – the place where real learning, courage, and change begin.
Royesh: When society tells you “Life is too hard,” “It’s unsafe,” or “You, as a girl, can’t stand these challenges – you might get hurt” … resisting these limiting beliefs requires real strength.
When you want to resist these Limiting Beliefs, you need to do something specific. What is that for you? How do you overcome these doubts and tell yourself: ‘No – I can move forward. Even in the middle of these hardships, without ignoring them, I can walk with strength and confidence.’ What’s your practice? What do you do?”
Do you want me to also integrate this refined line into the previous subtitle section for a smoother and more emotional flow?
Sahar Moradi: One of my strongest practices is writing. When people say, “You can’t do it,” or “Stay quiet if you want to survive in this society,” I turn to my writing. Because no matter where I am – at home, outside, online, or offline – through words, I can raise my voice and make it heard.
Inside those words, I discovered my growing edge – the space where I find my courage and strength. Yes, there are so many limiting beliefs around us, but there’s always a way to rise above them.
For example, when security became worse for girls recently, we didn’t stop. We moved our Empowerment sessions online and continued our activities virtually. We organized book seminars, read books together, and shared our thoughts.
Even during the days we had to stay home, we treated it like a short retreat – a break where we could rest, but also grow, learn, and stay connected with our friends.
Royesh: As human beings, there are moments when life feels overwhelming – when the struggles and hardships make you feel powerless, even bringing you to tears.
Sahar, how often have you experienced this? How often does your heart feel heavy, filled with sadness, loneliness, or longing? Do you cry in those moments?
Sahar Moradi: In life, there are always moments that feel like the hardest ones – I sometimes call them “the saddest and most difficult times of my life.”
But strangely, these moments bring me closer to my inner world. When I feel this way, I sit quietly somewhere, hug my knees, and get lost in my thoughts. On those days, nothing feels joyful to me. Even a sad song sounds no different from a happy one.
I prefer to sit with myself and have an honest conversation within. I reflect on what I’ve done over the past month – how much I’ve grown, how far I’ve come. I ask myself: “Are you becoming the person you dreamed of being? Are you still on your path?”
And in the end, I hug myself and whisper:
“You are strong enough. You’re moving forward. There’s nothing to worry about.”
I remind myself that just because I feel sad today doesn’t mean there won’t be a better tomorrow. That thought always calms me.
Sometimes, I even hold my own hand tightly and tell myself: “Even if there’s no one beside you, even if there’s no hand to hold, you have your own hands. You have yourself. So, keep going.”
When I chose this path, I accepted all its challenges too. And that means giving up is never an option.
Royesh: Do you think crying always means being weak? Is it a sign of weakness?
Sahar Moradi: Absolutely not. Speaking for myself, when I sit down and cry – even if it’s just for five or ten minutes, and it comes from the deepest part of my heart – I actually feel a sense of growth afterward.
It feels like I’ve discovered something new and meaningful about myself. I’ve come to realize that crying isn’t weakness. Crying means you’re moving forward – it’s like climbing from the valley toward the peak.
Royesh: You said that many times we find our strength in being together. Have you ever experienced the power of crying in a group? Has your team ever decided to cry together?
Sahar Moradi: Not really – but during our Empowerment session on August 15th, when we were supposed to talk about our experiences over the past four years, it was honestly the first time I felt my heart breaking for myself.
Remembering those years was so painful. I had so much I wanted to share, but the lump in my throat stopped me from speaking.
When my friend Zahra Salehi started talking, I tried so hard to control myself, but I couldn’t hold back my tears. It felt like releasing a weight I had carried for so long – like emptying my heart of everything unspoken.
I realized something important that day: crying doesn’t make you weak – it makes you human.
When you’re hurt, you have the right to cry. But what truly matters is what you choose to do after the tears.
In that moment, I wanted to hold Zahra’s hand and tell her:
“You’ve been strong enough… maybe even stronger than anyone should have to be. And I’m so grateful to know a girl like you.”
Royesh: That night, you cried too… maybe just as much as Zahra Salehi. I’d like to hear your story again.
This time, maybe you can share it without the weight, without the tears – to help us understand what made your voice tremble that night and brought tears to your eyes.
What was so heavy in that moment – on the fourth anniversary of Kabul’s fall – that shook you as a girl, as Sahar?
Sahar Moradi: That night, I remembered the day I was expelled from a course because of the clothes I was wearing.
And when I brought back that memory, I felt the same pain all over again.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was simply dressed the way I wanted – the way I felt comfortable. But they kicked me out. In front of all those students, my dignity was crushed.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized how deeply our society and even our families undervalue us – how they make you feel like you don’t even have the right to choose your own clothes, let alone speak your mind or express your thoughts freely.
That day, when I shared my story, I felt my heart tighten – as if I was reliving that moment all over again. The same pain, the same humiliation – it all came rushing back.
I remembered how, on that day, I cried in front of the course guard, and even he felt sorry for me.
That memory still carries the same weight whenever I speak about it.
There were other moments too… times when I deeply missed my school for the very first time.
I wanted so badly to graduate like any normal student – to hold a high school diploma, to taste the joy of finishing school, to go to university, to have a job, maybe even get a scholarship, and study abroad at the right age.
I’m turning 19 this year. By now, I should have already been entering university.
I once dreamed of getting a scholarship to study engineering… but those dreams were completely shattered. And that’s what makes it so painful.
When I think about it now, if someone were to take away the dream I have today, my life would be over. My whole life is tied to this dream. And I will never allow anyone to take it away from me.”
Royesh: Every time we feel oppression, injustice, or discrimination in life, it’s natural to see someone – some authority or source of power – as responsible for it. Sahar, when you think about the injustice you’ve faced as a girl, as yourself, who do you hold responsible?
Sahar Moradi: I don’t blame the Taliban alone. I blame our society. Because the Taliban are also part of our society.
When the Taliban came and closed our schools, so many people remained silent… so many looked away. And over time, I began to see society itself – especially the men in our community – as responsible.
I expected them to stand beside us, to fight with us, not against us. Because society isn’t just made of women – it’s built by both women and men.
I had hoped they would stand together with us, fight for the rights of the women next to them, for the rights of half of society.
But sadly, in these four years, from what I’ve seen… it’s only been the girls and women who have fought.
Royesh: Sahar jan, when you talk about society, it includes so many people – women and men, you, your mother, your sisters, and the girls around you.
Do you really believe everyone is responsible for the injustice that has been done to you, to women, and to girls?
Sahar Moradi: I hold responsible the dominant mindset in our society – and that mindset is a male-centered view.
This way of thinking has rooted itself so deeply that it exists even inside many women. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a man or a woman – this male gaze has influenced how almost everyone sees the world.
Royesh: What exactly do you mean, Sahar, when you say the male-dominated view has even shaped how women think?
Sahar Moradi: I mean that in our society, everything is measured through a man’s perspective. Throughout history, women were never allowed to express or represent their own perspective.
Even now, in almost every detail of our daily lives, everything is judged through a man’s lens: our right to education, our rights and freedoms, even our very existence in society – all are defined and measured by what men think.
From our voices, to how we dress, to what we study, to how we live – it has all been shaped by a dominant, controlling gaze that has taken hold of everyone in society.
Royesh: I’d like you to explain more, Sahar. From your personal experience, what are the things about this male-dominated mindset in society that make life difficult for you as a girl?
It hurts, and you feel that, as a girl, your space to act and live freely becomes so limited – and sometimes it feels like just being a girl itself has been turned into a crime.
Sahar Moradi: There are so many situations where I’ve felt this. Take sports, for example. I want to stay healthy, I want to exercise, clear my mind, and take care of my body – but in our society, that’s considered a crime for a girl. Because sports are seen as “something for men,” and through this male gaze, when a girl plays sports, it’s viewed as shameful.
I love watching football. I want to play volleyball. I want to wake up early in the morning and go for a run.
And it’s the same in so many other areas – the way we speak, how we take care of ourselves, how we dress, how we walk, even how we eat. It feels like everything is treated as a crime. Expressing our identity as girls, showing our femininity in any of these ways, has practically become forbidden in our society today. Even something as simple as stepping outside, going to school, or just carrying a small notebook in my hand draws suspicious and judgmental looks.
It feels as if I’m treated like a criminal – just because I step outside, walk freely, and try to do my daily activities.
It’s as though my very existence in public is considered a crime.
I’m expected to stay at home and do everything in secret; otherwise, in today’s society, I’m seen as guilty simply for living my life.
This happens in so many other areas too – my clothing, my scarf, even the color of my scarf.
I’m told it cannot be blue or light-colored; it has to be black.
In my movements, in my choices, even in the smallest, simplest parts of daily life – things that shouldn’t matter at all – society finds a flaw and treats us like we’ve committed a crime.
Royesh: In these past years, have you had any specific experiences where you felt that, just because you are a girl, you were treated unfairly or differently?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, absolutely. When I used to go to my art course, there were several times when I was confronted on the street simply because I had left my house and because of the clothes I was wearing.
On a few occasions, I was even sent back home – told: “Go back the same way you came. You shouldn’t be out here.”
It was an awful feeling… To be stopped in public, in front of so many people, and treated like a criminal – just because I’m a girl.
At that moment, it felt like my very act of stepping outside was considered a shame… as if simply existing in public was wrong.
Royesh: Sahar jan, despite all the difficulties you’ve described, I’ve noticed two positive things in your words. First, you don’t seem to carry hatred – not toward the Taliban, not toward the men in society, not even toward those who may have wronged you.
You believe it’s not about blaming individuals but about changing the mindset that dominates society. You understand that when this perspective changes, it benefits everyone – your father, your brothers, even the Taliban and the religious leaders.
That shows you’re seeking to reform the situation, not punish people.
Second, you speak with remarkable confidence.
I don’t hear the voice of a girl who has surrendered or lost hope – you don’t sound defeated. I’d like to explore these two aspects more deeply. Where does your confidence come from? How did you build it?
Sahar Moradi: For as long as I can remember – since I was a little girl – my mother always told me: “You are brave. You are courageous.”
And my father would say the same, always telling me: “One day, you will play an important role in society.”
Over time, these words became engraved in my heart and mind. They taught me to stand tall, to speak louder, and to walk firmly through my society.
This constant encouragement gave me not just self-confidence, but also a deep sense of self-worth.
Royesh: Do you think the Empowerment practices have made your self-confidence more meaningful?
Through the Empowerment sessions, did you discover a different perspective on what confidence truly means?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, absolutely.
In the Empowerment lessons, we learned that self-confidence means trusting ourselves – trusting who we are, trusting our existence, trusting our bodies and the minds we have.
This helped me strengthen my belief in myself.
It taught me to move forward with more determination in everything I do and to have confidence that:
“Yes, I can do this.”
Whether it’s studying, writing, coming to the Cluster, joining the Empowerment sessions, speaking in front of large groups of people, or even sitting here talking with you – I’ve learned to trust myself more deeply than ever before.
Royesh: In the Empowerment sessions, you often work on team exercises with your friends. Do these activities make you feel more connected to each other – like your individual strengths are coming together into a united force?
Sahar Moradi: Absolutely. We’ve made a commitment to one another, and as we planned, we work on our team activities every day and every week.
Together, we focus on something we deeply believe in – women’s leadership – and working toward this shared goal brings us closer and closer. The more I get to know my friends and teammates, the stronger our bond becomes.
For example, creating our team symbols united us under the name “The Green Group.” And simple activities – like holding each other’s hands during our exercises – have helped us build a real sense of solidarity and togetherness.
Royesh: Have you also used any of the Empowerment practices at home to build a new kind of relationship – an Empowerment-based connection – with your sisters?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, especially with my third sister, Nargis, who I’m closest to.
Some of the same activities we did in our team sessions, I’ve also practiced with her – like reading books together, talking openly, and sharing our inner feelings.
I’ve also applied the Empowerment lessons about collaboration from the Seven Actions of Peace.
In Empowerment, we learn that competition isn’t the goal – cooperation is.
I try to do the same with my sister: instead of competing with her, I help her in every way I can – whether it’s supporting her studies, helping with household responsibilities, or encouraging her to follow her dreams.
Royesh: What about your mother, Sahar?
Have you ever tried sharing your Empowerment practices with her – or with other family members and relatives – to help them change their perspectives and bring Empowerment into their lives too?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, sometimes I talk with my mother about Empowerment – about what Empowerment and capacity-building really mean.
I tell her that Empowerment is “the art of living beautifully.”
Through Empowerment, we can learn how to make our lives more meaningful and more beautiful.
My mother always listens to me very deeply, although we haven’t yet talked about how these conversations might have changed her own life.
But I’m sure she reflects on our talks and follows the ideas we’ve discussed together.
With my other relatives and family friends, I always try to encourage them – to show them that it’s never too late to continue their education, to study English, to read books, to write, and even to join the Cluster Education programs.
I also share some of the smaller Empowerment exercises with them – like word-choice games and the activity you once taught us: “Be careful, there’s glass here – don’t break the glass.”
Through these exercises, I’ve discovered the value of being a girl. I’ve realized that I can connect easily with other girls and share my energy with them – an energy that uplifts us all.
I’m certain that even if they don’t openly express it, their mindset has started to change.
Royesh: You reminded me of the “Be Careful, It’s Glass” exercise.
Can you share more about your experience with it?
Where did you practice it, and what impact did it have on you?
Sahar Moradi: At first, I practiced it on myself. I had a small glass mirror – it was very thin and fragile, without any cover, so it could slip from my hands and break at any moment.
I placed it somewhere where I would see it often, and every time I held it and looked at it, I reminded myself: “Sahar, you are just like this glass.”
I realized I must take care of myself, protect myself, and not let myself break.
Even today, I still keep that mirror with me and take care of it.
For a long time, whenever I looked into it, I thought: “This glass is me. I am Sahar. I am a girl. Be careful, Sahar… as you move forward on your path, don’t let yourself shatter.”
It was such a unique experience – so simple that sometimes it even made me smile – yet so meaningful.
This exercise taught me something powerful: “Be careful with the glass.”
Because just like glass, a girl is fragile. Be mindful not to hurt her feelings. Give her your attention. Be kind to her. Show her love and care.
Respect her body and her appearance.
This simple practice brought me one step closer to myself. It made me more aware of my own value, my own emotions, and my own strength.”
Royesh: After practicing this “Be careful, it’s glass” exercise, did you also share its meaning at home? Did you explain it to your brothers – to remind them to be careful with the hearts of girls and to understand how fragile they can be?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, definitely. Since my brothers are three years younger than me, I feel a stronger sense of responsibility for them compared to my three older sisters.
My goal is to help them grow into men who support girls – not just me, but any girl: the ones in our home, on the streets, or anywhere in society.
I always tell them: “You must protect girls. Don’t ever become one of those people who make a girl’s life bitter or difficult – by controlling her, judging her clothes, her voice, or her freedom. Don’t be among those who confine girls, pressure them, and try to put them in a box.”
I keep reminding them: “A girl is like glass. Be careful with this glass. Handle it with care.”
Royesh: This exercise – “Be careful, it’s glass” – was designed so that you could start creating real change inside your homes. The goal was to build safe and supportive spaces for girls and women within families.
Now imagine this: when you share this with your brothers and they learn to protect you, and then 400 other girls in your cluster do the same at home… and later, 4,000 girls across Cluster Education practice this with their families, suddenly 4,000 households become safe spaces for daughters.
And this idea starts spreading like light – slowly creating a new culture in society, where everyone is careful with the glass, where everyone respects and protects girls. It could reach a point where streets, homes, and schools become safer places, where no one harms girls anymore.
Have you taken this exercise seriously in your group activities? Like you practiced it in your personal life, have you also worked on it as a team?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, absolutely. In our group activities, we all make a real effort to take care of ourselves and each other. We’ve practiced exercises like “Be careful, it’s glass,” word games, and symbol-making together.
We once wrote on a mirror – though it was with another team of girls, not my current one – the words:
‘Be careful, it’s glass.’
Every time we looked at that mirror and focused on the glass, we saw our own reflections.
It reminded us that we must take better care of ourselves – and also take care of each other – so we can make life and our environment safer and easier for everyone.
We also focused on bringing this practice into our homes. We talked to our fathers and brothers, encouraging them to protect the “glass” in their own homes – to care for the daughters, mothers, and women in their families.
This made a real difference: not only did they begin respecting us more and taking better care of us, but they also started respecting other girls outside our home – treating them with dignity, protecting their space, and not doing anything that would limit their freedom or force them to stay hidden inside their houses.
Royesh: Sahar jan, now – after four years – if you look at Afghanistan through a different lens, one inspired by Empowerment, where girls and women see themselves in leadership roles and work toward an alternative vision for managing society, how would you compare the current situation with the period of the Republic?
What positives and negatives do you see in each?
Sahar Moradi: During the time of the Republic, we had people who called themselves leaders, but honestly, they mostly worked for their own personal interests.
In my view, they used every opportunity for themselves, not for society. For example, even the funds donated by the UN were never distributed to schools – there were no real changes in the education system and no meaningful improvements in people’s lives.
On the contrary, the country was dragged deeper into corruption, and I believe corruption back then was far worse than people realize.
Because of that, no one truly worked for the community, and people became less responsible toward society. But when the government collapsed and the system changed, everything shifted.
First of all, the so-called leaders abandoned us. Those who once promised:
“You can rely on us, we are here to support you,” – they disappeared. Most of them don’t even live in Afghanistan anymore; they’re abroad now, living comfortable, privileged lives.
But strangely, this created something positive. Now, we – especially girls like me – feel a much stronger sense of responsibility toward our society.
For example, in Cluster Education alone, there are thousands of girls my age, and many of them feel a deep commitment to making a difference. We’ve realized something important: we are responsible – for our futures, for our communities, and for our country.
And that awareness is powerful.
Today, we have more girls than ever before who truly care about society and want to create change.
Royesh: What specific work are you and your peers doing right now to make the best use of the current situation?
Sahar Moradi: There’s actually a lot we can do, even under these circumstances.
One of the most important things is to show ourselves – to raise our voices and remind everyone that Afghan girls are still here, still alive, and still moving forward.
Yes, the situation has changed. Many girls no longer attend school, some have lost access to education, some have been forced into early marriages, and many have had their life paths completely altered.
But at the same time, there are those who are using this moment to push harder toward their dreams – and we are examples of that. The girls in the Cluster Education program, especially those in Empowerment, are working together in five-member teams.
We all move toward one shared goal: to spread women’s leadership across our society.
Royesh: When you talk about women’s leadership, Sahar, what exactly do you mean?
How do you define it in your own mind?
Sahar Moradi: Women’s leadership, for me, is first of all a style of leadership – a different way of leading.
In this kind of leadership, we move forward with strength, but also with gentleness and emotions.
We focus on collaboration and partnership, rather than control, competition, or domination.
The kind of leadership I believe in – the leadership I dream about – is built on empathy, honesty, connection with people, and shared responsibility. It leads with feelings and compassion, but also with power and determination.
Royesh: If you want to make this model of women’s leadership something that society widely accepts, how do you deal with the barriers in your way – especially the structural ones?
For example, the male-dominated culture, patriarchal power, government restrictions, and religious beliefs…
Don’t you think these could stop you?
Sahar Moradi: Of course, these are all huge barriers in our path.
Because the power I’m talking about – the power of women’s leadership – is meant to challenge and transform the current structures.
And those who hold power today are afraid of that change. They fear what happens when a new kind of power – a women-driven leadership – rises in society.
So, they use every tool to stop us: from culture, to political laws, to social rules -they even use our gender and our bodies against us.
They remind us: “You’re physically weaker than men.”
They try to limit us, silence us, and confine us. Because they know one thing: if women’s leadership spreads, it has the power to dismantle the systems that keep their authority alive.
But we don’t give up. We continue to move forward – step by step – by working on changing mindsets. Not by destroying society, but by reforming it. Not by fighting people, but by shifting the way they think.
Royesh: In your five-member teams, how do you collaborate with the other girls in your cluster?
What kind of activities do you do together that you believe strengthen women’s leadership among you?
Sahar Moradi: We start our teamwork with very simple acts of collaboration.
For example, we help each other with studies – from supporting someone in their physics or chemistry lessons to working together on assignments. We gather to write, to paint, and sometimes to organize small events together.
The goal is to always stay connected, to keep interacting and learning from each other.
These may seem like small activities, but we believe that small steps lead us to big changes. Through these little collaborations, we are building collective strength.
All of us together become one shared power – one united force – moving toward our common goal. And through this process, we also begin to understand each other’s perspectives more deeply.
This allows us to raise awareness – both within ourselves and among each other – simply by working as a team.
Royesh: Do you plan to expand your activities beyond working only with girls and include boys in your Empowerment programs as well?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, absolutely. In fact, we’ve already organized one activity together with boys. For example, when we held the Human Library, we decided to host it not only for girls, but to include boys as well.
I believe boys shouldn’t be left out of what we’re doing. We need to involve them too – because when we talk about building a better society, we know it includes both men and women.
By working with boys alongside girls, we actually become stronger as a collective. We walk side by side, learning together, supporting each other, and creating change together.
Of course, I’ve noticed that their mindsets can sometimes be a little different from ours as girls, but from my experience, I’ve also seen that many boys have shown empathy and a willingness to collaborate with us.
Royesh: You mentioned that boys often have a different mindset. From your experience, what signs of positive or negative differences have you noticed? Are they less interested or more interested? Do they show less motivation or more?
Sahar Moradi: I think many of them are still influenced by the dominant mindset in our society – the male-centered way of thinking.
For example, when a girl talks to them about Empowerment or explains what we’re working on, some of them think: “Oh, these are just girls’ activities.”
They don’t always realize that these programs can change their lives too, help them grow, and even guide them toward their own goals.
This makes things a little more challenging, because shifting their perspective from a dominant male mindset to a more inclusive, women-centered mindset can take time.
But I’m confident that the more we work with them and the more we stay connected, the more their perspectives will evolve. With continuous collaboration, they too can change their views – and become part of the transformation.
Royesh: During your Empowerment programs and activities, has your father ever noticed the changes in you? Has he ever supported these changes – or at times felt worried and given you warnings?
Sahar Moradi: Yes, definitely. Because I’m away from home almost all day – from 6 in the morning until 6 in the evening – attending school and planning my activities around my studies, my father sometimes worries. He’s concerned about the outside environment and the current situation.
But alongside that fear, I also sense his pride. I’ve noticed many times that he speaks proudly about me and my work when talking to others.
In one of our Empowerment lessons, you talked about the idea of “the power of attraction” – how power attracts power. Because I am committed to my activities, because I show up every single day and continue my work despite the limitations, I’ve earned my father’s trust.
He’s seen my determination and realized that my efforts are not meaningless. Now, he not only supports me but also worries less, because he believes in me and believes in what I’m doing.
Royesh: If, from where you are today, you could send a personal message to your father, what would you say to him?
Sahar Moradi: I would tell him that I’m truly grateful for all his sacrifices and hard work. I also feel deeply sorry from the bottom of my heart that he never had the opportunity to study or pursue an education. But I want him to know this: I’m studying twice as hard, I’m working twice as much, to build my life and fulfill the dreams and hopes he carries for me.
I want him to feel proud when he sees what I’ve achieved -and I’m certain that he already is. And I want him to know how happy and honored I am to have a father like him… a father named Mohammad Jawad.
Royesh: And what about your mother? If you wanted to send a personal message to Khanom Gol, what would you say to her?
Sahar Moradi: I would tell her that, as a daughter and as a woman, I deeply understand the hardships she has faced in her life. I know there are days when we upset her, days when we make her tired or frustrated, and for that, I feel truly sorry.
But I want my mother to know this: my efforts are not in vain. Everything I’m doing today is because of her sacrifices. One day, I will reach a place where I can give back to her – to return the care and love she has shown me. The support she has given me -selflessly, without expecting anything in return -I promise to repay it, one step at a time, in my own way.
Royesh: On August 15, Ashraf Ghani Ahmadzai boarded his plane and left Kabul – without saying goodbye to Sahar, without even sending her a message.
Now, four years later, Sahar, you are still here in Kabul.
If you could send a message to this fleeing president, what would you say?
Sahar Moradi: First of all, I’d say this: You made a decision that changed the course of our lives. But I carry no hatred toward you. I don’t speak badly about you either – in fact, in a strange way, I’m grateful to you.
Because of what happened, I’ve become stronger than I was four years ago. I’ve discovered the concept of leadership – especially women’s leadership and the power of collaboration.
I found the Cluster Education program. I found my friends. I found my teammates. And together, we are now working tirelessly to build a better society. If you left Afghanistan and refused to take responsibility, then I accept responsibility – we accept responsibility.
And for that, strangely, I’m thankful. Because your departure forced me to find my path. Yes, when you left, I felt the pain deeply… but out of that pain, I discovered my purpose.
Royesh: And what promise would you make to Ashraf Ghani Ahmadzai – about whether you’ll become like him… or choose a different path?
Sahar Moradi: I promise never to become like him. I promise to help build a society far better than the one he left behind. I promise to be someone history will remember -not as a person who ran away, but as someone who stood firm.
I will not be known as small or insignificant. I will build a big name – not just for myself, but for my society and for all Afghan girls.
Royesh: If you could send a message to Mullah Hibatullah, the Amir al-Mu’minin who now rules over you, what would you say to him as a young Afghan girl?
Sahar Moradi: I would tell him this: “Heroes are born in the heart of pain. And the heroes I’m talking about – are us. We are the girls who continue to fight, who rise from beneath the rubble and keep moving forward.
Yes, you’ve made things harder for us – not impossible, just harder. But even with these challenges, we keep trying endlessly.
Let me tell you something important: not a single girl I know – not one in the Cluster program or in my surroundings – sits and complains about this situation.
For us, the current reality feels like a small headache – something we treat with a simple paracetamol before getting back to work.
Whether under the Emirate or the Republic, whether doors are closed or opened, we will still find our way forward. We will reach our goals and build a better society.
This generation I’m talking about – my generation – is determined, focused, and relentless.
And you can be sure of this: in the next 10 or 20 years, we will bring extraordinary change to Afghanistan.
Royesh: Twenty years from now, Sahar will be 40 years old.
Imagine that future Sahar – from the position she’ll hold at that time –
looking back at the Sahar of today and speaking to her.
What would she say?
Sahar Moradi: Twenty years from now, after I’ve worked with my friends and my team to bring real change to society, my message to this younger Sahar would be:
“Thank you… Thank you for the mindset you had. Thank you for the visions you carried for your life. Thank you for imagining every future moment and believing in it before it existed. It was your resistance, your imagination, and your courage that brought me here today.”
Royesh: Sahar jan, thank you – for your strength, for your resilience, and for your bright vision of the future. I hope that, just like your name, your life will always be white, bright, and beautiful. And one day, I hope you will offer true leadership – especially women’s leadership – as a gift to your generation and to the youth of Afghanistan.
Sahar Moradi: Thank you, ustad, for inviting me to the FutureSheLeaders program. And yes… I truly believe I am going to be a leader of tomorrow.
Royesh: Khuda Hafiz, Sahar.
