Kimia Yousofi, an Afghan sprinter competing in the Paris Olympics, is a name that might not be readily familiar. She didn’t break any records, but her story holds a powerful message. During her 100-meter heats, she held up a sign with the words ‘Education’, ‘Sport’, and ‘Our Rights.’ This simple act encapsulates the struggles faced by Afghan women, particularly under the Taliban regime. Of the six Afghan athletes in Paris, the Taliban only recognizes the three men. Yousofi, now living in exile in Australia, poignantly stated that women in Afghanistan “are not considered human.” Her performance, a mere two seconds behind the winner, becomes inconsequential when considering the larger context. Her participation, her very existence, challenges the medal-winning triumphalism that often overshadows the realities of the Olympics. What is the value of a gold medal when your life is constantly under threat? What joy can one find in international recognition when you know governing bodies in sports are willing to turn a blind eye to injustices in exchange for votes?
The story of Afghan women athletes who dare to pursue their passion for sports goes beyond the Taliban’s oppression. It extends to societal pressures and even the cruelty of family members. Khalida Popal, in her book “My Beautiful Sisters,” narrates the heart-wrenching story of Afghanistan’s women’s football team. She established the team from scratch, navigated the complexities of administration, organized tours, and protected the players. Her narrative unveils the stark realities of a patriarchal society where violence against women, encompassing mental, physical, and sexual abuse, is commonplace. As Popal eloquently states, anyone in Afghanistan can be “arrested, raped or shot” on the flimsiest of excuses.
Popal’s own journey reflects the perils of challenging the status quo. Having fled to Peshawar during her school years, she later returned to Afghanistan. While the story of the men’s cricket team, largely established in Afghanistan, offers a tale of romance and inspiration, the women’s story is tragically different. Two potential national players tragically took their own lives as the pressure from their families and the relentless abuse became unbearable. As Popal writes about one of them, “If she couldn’t control how she lived, she could control how she died.”
As the women’s football team gained traction, Popal, its public face, became a target. She was shot at, her car rammed, forcing her to seek refuge in Europe. She felt like a “package sent to the wrong address,” highlighting the ostracism she faced. When the US withdrawal and the Taliban’s return devastated the country, Popal established the NGO “Girl Power” to help her fellow athletes escape Afghanistan. She successfully helped over 500 sportswomen find new lives, many in Australia.
Popal courageously brought to light predatory sexual behavior by the head of the Football Federation. Despite this, FIFA has not adequately supported women’s football in Afghanistan. Popal aptly observes, “Football governance is a brotherhood, controlled and run by men looking to maintain and extend their power, profile and personal wealth.” This statement exposes the blatant disregard for women’s rights within the governing body of football.
It’s a sobering realization that the world outside Afghanistan, often perceived as civilized, operates with similar autocratic tendencies. These athletes’ stories serve as a poignant reminder that the fight for equality and justice is a global one, and it’s a fight that requires the unwavering support of those who stand for human rights.
