The election of Aisha Wahab to the United States Congress and the reactions I saw among Afghans afterward made me think about a much bigger problem.
Aisha Wahab is only an example in this article.
My purpose is not to defend her. Like any other politician, if she does something right, we should support her. If she makes a mistake, we should criticize her.
The real subject is us.
I feel that we Afghans are growing farther apart from each other every day.
Prejudice existed in our society in the past too, but today it sometimes feels stronger and more open.
Sometimes I even ask myself if there is as much prejudice inside Afghanistan as we see among some Afghans living outside the country.
Why have we become more prejudiced outside Afghanistan?
Millions of Afghans have lived for years in the United States, Canada, Europe and Australia. These are countries where people of different ethnic groups, languages, religions and colors live together, work together and build their countries together.
So what have we learned from these societies?
If we live for twenty or thirty years in a developed country, but when we meet another Afghan the first thing we see is their ethnicity, language or religion, then what have we really learned from the society around us?
No country can move forward with prejudice.
If a Pashtun only feels the pain of Pashtuns, a Tajik only feels the pain of Tajiks, a Hazara only feels the pain of Hazaras and an Uzbek only feels the pain of Uzbeks, then who will feel the pain of Afghanistan?
We have lived through more than forty years of war. We lost people. We became refugees. Millions of Afghans were scattered around the world.
But have we learned anything from all this pain?
Maybe we left the war in Afghanistan, but did the war ever leave our minds?
Today we may not fight each other with guns, but we fight with words.
We insult each other. We accuse each other. We are very quick to call each other traitors.
Even worse, sometimes we pass the same prejudice and hatred on to our children.
Why should a child born in the United States, Canada or Europe, who may have never even seen Afghanistan, inherit the hatred and conflicts of our generation?
Disagreement is normal.
Aisha Wahab can make mistakes.
I can make mistakes.
You can make mistakes.
No politician and no historical leader should be above criticism.
If Aisha Wahab says something right, we should support her. If she is wrong, we should criticize her.
But political disagreement should never become ethnic hatred.
Someone can disagree with us without being our enemy.
While we Afghans living outside Afghanistan argue with each other about ethnicity, leaders, flags and the past, a generation of Afghan girls is losing the opportunities of life one after another right in front of our eyes.
Girls who should be in school and university are sitting at home today.
A girl who once dreamed of becoming a doctor does not know if she will ever be allowed to return to university.
If we truly love Afghanistan, we should ask ourselves:
What have we done for these girls?
Afghanistan cannot be built with prejudice.
It cannot be built with hatred.
It cannot be built by turning one leader into a hero and another into a traitor.
And Afghanistan will never become a developed country by denying women and girls an education.
Roads can be built. Buildings can be built. There can even be some level of security.
But a country is not only roads and buildings.
A country is its people.
It is the child going to school.
It is the young woman going to university.
It is the teacher.
It is the doctor.
It is the engineer.
It is the woman and the man who feel that they have a part in building their country’s future.
With the Taliban’s current policies toward women and girls, that kind of Afghanistan cannot be built.
But simply blaming the Taliban does not end our responsibility.
What can those of us living outside Afghanistan do?
We can help provide online education for girls.
We can help them find scholarships.
We can help provide books, computers and educational resources.
We can support women inside Afghanistan.
We can be a voice for those whose voices have been restricted.
Our doctors can help.
Our teachers can help.
Our engineers can help.
Our businesspeople can help.
Our media can help.
Our politicians of Afghan origin can help.
But before we can do all of this, we must learn how to work together.
We do not all have to think the same way.
We do not all have to support the same leader.
Unity means that even when we disagree, when the future of Afghanistan and the next generation is at stake, we can stand together.
We have thousands of educated and successful Afghans around the world. We have doctors, engineers, teachers, businesspeople, journalists, artists and politicians.
Imagine the power we could have if we used even a small part of this knowledge, experience and ability to help the next generation of Afghanistan instead of fighting with each other.
If we truly want a better Afghanistan and a brighter future for the next generation, the change has to begin with us.
We need to leave ethnic prejudice behind.
We need to leave linguistic prejudice behind.
We need to leave religious prejudice behind.
We need to stop blindly worshiping political leaders.
Past generations left many of their conflicts to us.
We do not have to pass those same conflicts on to our children.
Our children deserve to know Afghanistan one day not only through war, the Taliban, the Mujahideen, coups, ethnicity and migration, but through schools, universities, knowledge, freedom, progress, economic opportunity and respect for human beings.
But that Afghanistan will not fall from the sky.
America will not build it for us.
Europe will not build it for us.
No other country will build it for us.
We Afghans must take part in building it ourselves.
And perhaps the first step is to stop always asking each other:
What ethnic group are you from?
Which leader do you support?
And instead, ask ourselves and each other:
What can you and I do together for the future of Afghanistan’s next generation?
Noor Wodjouatt
