Ah, the naivety of youth – when I was young, blonde, and thought I had the world figured out.
Now I’m older, wiser, and still not hideous enough to scare small children. Progress, I suppose.

Picture this: a Dutch ingénue in a land where “progress” was a fancy word people used when they wanted to sound critical.
Little did I know I was about to get a crash course in cultural whiplash that would make a rollercoaster seem tame.
There I was, living with two Belgian-born Moroccan cousins in a country caught between fear of fascist dimmed streetlights and nostalgia for the good old days of military rule.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place – or, in this case, between Aznar and the General.

Our little multicultural experiment was a regular United Nations of contradictions.
One cousin was betrothed to a girl in Morocco. He prayed when he could and hoped Allah had a sense of humour.
The other was dating a French blonde but kept her hidden like a forbidden baguette when the family came to visit.
And there I was the Dutch single mom, trying to navigate this cultural minefield without stepping on any sajjāda or eating pork products.
They taught me to eat with my fingers, which was great until I realized I couldn’t lick them clean in polite company.

And then came the hijab lesson: “Men are pigs, so we wrap women up like presents they can’t open.”
As a Dutch girl, I nodded sagely, thinking, “Ah yes, just like how we blame victims for their short skirts back home.

Misogyny – the universal language!”

Fast forward to today, I’m looking at Afghanistan like it’s the world’s most depressing before-and-after photo.
Once upon a time, it was a kingdom with all the usual dysfunction of any society.
Now? It’s a dystopian nightmare where the Taliban are playing a game of “How low can women’s rights go?” and breaking their own records daily.
The Pashtun Tribe’s idea of “order” now seems like a quaint fairy tale compared to the current regime’s mission to make The Handmaid’s Tale look like a utopian dream.
And let’s not forget the stellar contributions of our dear friends Brezhnev and Ronald, who decided to play real-life Risk with other people’s lives.

So here we are, in a world where my youthful experiences with cultural “protection” of women seem as outdated as a rotary phone.
Afghanistan’s women’s rights (if any left) are being erased faster than my blonde hair, and that’s saying something.
It’s enough to make you wonder if progress is just a cosmic joke, with women always being the punchline or rather punchbag.

Yet in this darkness, something extraordinary persists: the tradition of Landays.
These two-line poems, shared between women like precious gems, have become more than a cultural heritage – they are seeds of change planted in the depths of oppression.
While my Belgian-Moroccan housemates showed me how male cultures can adapt and coexist, yet in their true form neigh to advance and let go of the Incon-fucking-Spicious.

Afghan women are teaching us about playing the long game of transformation.

Their 22-syllable verses do more than express pain and resistance—they carry wisdom across generations.
And here lies perhaps the most powerful potential for change: these women, even in their restricted spaces, are the first teachers of the next generation.
Every mother who whispers these poems to her daughter also raises a son.
Every woman who shares these verses in secret gatherings also shapes young minds in her household.

This realization brings me to a more profound truth: while we fight for UNESCO recognition and immediate rights, perhaps the most profound revolution lies in how these women can reshape society from within – through their roles as mothers, sisters, and primary educators of young children, especially boys.

The same hands that write Landays in secret can mould more empathetic sons.
The voices that carry ancient verses can also whisper new values into young ears.

May harmony find you,

Irena Phaedra

P.S. Last but certainly not least a quote from May Sarton; “One must think like a hero to behave like a merely decent human being”.