The Underground Girls of Kabul Read online

  HANGAM, AN EIGHTEEN-YEAR-OLD Tajik bacha posh, joins us. Like Sahel, she has a bandana tied around her head. Hers is in a paisley pattern, and she is panting after having just left the floor. It was not her best game, she tells Nader, admitting to being distraught. She had backed into another car as she was trying to park outside. One of the taillights broke, and she worries that her father will be upset. The car is precious to him. Nader tries to calm her. Her father will be forgiving. With all the gossip the family has had to endure about Hangam’s lingering male appearance, her father has still not succumbed to public pressure. He tells neighbors and others to “mind their own business” when they question how he runs his family. There have been many bacha posh in Hangam’s family, going back generations. Most have eventually moved abroad, as those with money can do.

  Her younger sister has a ponytail that sits high on her head. She does not wear a head scarf unless she goes outside. She chimes in about their father. “He offered me to become a bacha posh, too, but I said no.”

  When I met Hangam’s father a few days earlier, he told me marriage has not entirely been ruled out for his daughter, if she is willing and remains in Afghanistan. He described her potential husband as “someone educated or liberal; enlightened.” The husband must allow Hangam to wear men’s clothing if she prefers it, and let her work outside the house, should she want to use the education her father has given her. For he would never allow his daughter to marry “a useless man,” he told me.

  Such a man might be hard to find in Kabul, but, he believes, not impossible. When he was young, the Russians taught him women should be part of society and not stashed behind closed doors. When he took his family to live in Iran during the Taliban years, he saw bacha posh of all ages in their neighborhood in Tehran. His interpretation was that Iranians are clever enough to realize that religious and cultural impositions can be ignored when a country is run by backward-striving people. And that a little resistance is sometimes a good thing. If Afghanistan deteriorates after foreign troops pull out and there is another civil war, he will attempt to return to Tehran. Worst case scenario, he will send Hangam abroad to live on her own. He has the means: He works at a prison, and influences who stays behind bars and who doesn’t. And there are always those who pay good money to have their cases “revisited.”

  AFTER TAE KWON do practice ends, the girls plead for a group shot, lining up against the mirrored wall. They bicker about who gets to be next to Nader. The group of young men finally arrange themselves in a formation fanning out from Nader, who stands broad-legged with one hand in her jean pocket as the ringleader. They all angle their hips forward and pose with their chins down and lips pressed together. Puberty has so far not caused them much trouble—they followed Nader’s instructions on how to pray for their chests not to develop. She has helped them stabilize deeper voices, too.

  “Show me your best move,” I ask of Sahel in the parking lot as we break for the night and are about to part ways.

  Before I understand where she is going, she spins backward twice and gently kicks me in the lower back. The other girls whistle in appreciation and offer high fives all around.

  “Be careful. She’s just a girl,” Hangam shouts.

  THE SIX GIRLS—including Nader—do not know that their basement in Kabul is just one microcosm in something much bigger, that goes beyond the capital, and beyond Afghanistan.

  In immigrant communities all over Europe and the United States, there are women from many other conservative cultures who have their own stories of growing up as boys, for reasons of survival or a desire for freedom. With time, and through dispatches from friends from India, Iran, and elsewhere around the Middle East, I slowly begin to realize that Nader’s attempt at resistance can be found in many places where segregation exists and boys are preferred. And that it is a global phenomenon which remains mostly underground. That women in some places take the radical action of refusing their own gender, or change that of their daughters, is not very flattering to societies considering themselves to be somewhat evolved. Nor is it kindly viewed by male religious and political leaders.

  But evidence of bacha posh variants in other countries is not hard to come by once the right questions are asked. Just across the border in Pakistan, Setareh can present one distant cousin after the other who live as young men, working or going to college. They, too, are bacha posh, or alakaana in Pashto, often designated as such from birth.

  In Urdu-speaking areas of Pakistan and India, they are called mahi munda, or “boy-girl.” In India, there is a longstanding Hindu tradition of sadhin, whereby girls take on the role of honorary men through renouncing their sexuality. Author Anees Jung observed many girls in short hair masquerading as boys detailed in her 2003 book Beyond the Courtyard. “It’s normal around here,” one of the women interviewed in the book explains.

  In Egypt, famous deep-voiced balladeer Umm Kulthum began performing dressed as a boy at her father’s insistence, to avoid the shame of having a daughter on stage. Middle East scholar and development expert Andrea B. Rugh observed multiple cases of women dressing as men for purposes of work and practicality in the country during her fieldwork in the 1980s.

  In parts of Iraq, Kurdish girls have been described by locals just like Zahra: as something in between women and men.

  In Cambodia and Myanmar, where sons are also preferred over daughters, who are sometimes sold into the global sex trade, aid organizations confirm that young girls have been known to take on male identities to avoid being drawn into criminal enterprise.

  Certain countries even view the practice as so problematic, and apparently so widespread, that it requires intervention by law enforcement: In Iran, with its state-instituted religion, young women who are pesar posh—the equivalent to bacha posh in Farsi—have been arrested for posing as men in order to work, escape marriage, or just to attend football matches.

  And in 2008, religious authorities in Malaysia issued a fatwa against girls with too-short hair who dress and act like boys, with the justification that they are violating Islam and potentially even encouraging same-sex relations.

  The Gulf states have the most direct and intriguing parallel to the girls in Kabul: On the streets of Riyadh, in the shopping malls of Mecca, and throughout Kuwait, Bahrain, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates, where some of the world’s strictest dress codes for women are enforced, teenage marriage refusers from traditional families call themselves boyah, wearing pants and shirts, refusing a head scarf and full-body coverage. They clandestinely drive cars and gather online to exchange images of androgynous fashion and short hairstyles, as well as tips for avoiding authorities. Across the Arabian Peninsula, the perceived threat of boyah and of young girls avoiding marriage is taken so seriously that doctors and psychologists blame the phenomenon on unfortunate influences from the West, sometimes dismissing it as a passing phase or a trend.

  As in every event where women deviate from traditional gender roles, the economics of strict patriarchy are at stake, always of great concern to male authorities. In places where women are mostly barred from ownership, inheritance, and working outside the house, allowing women to resemble men is regarded as a great risk, since they may eventually begin to claim some of men’s rights.

  In Qatar, where there is little data on domestic violence, simply because no such crime officially exists according to authorities, and where women have few ways to divorce and keep custody of their children, the government encourages parents to send boyat daughters to a state-run “rehabilitation center” offering a program called “My Femininity Is a Gift from My Lord.” There, psychologists are employed to diagnose and cure cases of teenage boyat girls. Their condition not only defies Islam, the government has proclaimed, but also poses a grave threat to the state itself, since birthrates may be undermined if girls delay or refuse marriage and becoming mothers. The refusal to marry also carries the suspicion of homosexuality, and the spread of that dangerous disease must be stemmed, since it is suspected of
being highly contagious. That plague, of course, is said to stem from a degenerate, non-Muslim outside world. The re-education center advises mothers of boyat daughters not to complain about their own domestic duties or limited rights, and not to influence daughters to denounce the naturally female way of life and refuse their “biological constitution.” Through the center’s program, the girls’ unwillingness to conform to the ideal of womanhood is promised to be remedied. Once isolated at the center, a girl will be taught to wear a hijab and trained in feminine tasks such as housework and caring for her husband.

  THE BACHA POSH parallels throughout countries where women lack rights are neither Western nor Eastern, neither Islamic nor un-Islamic. It is a human phenomenon, and it exists throughout our history, in vastly different places, with different religions and in many languages. Posing as someone, or something, else is the story of many women and men who have experienced repression and made a bid for freedom.

  It is the story of a gay U.S. Marine who had to pretend he was straight. It is the story of a Jewish family in Nazi Germany posing as Protestants. It is the story of a black South African who tried to make his skin lighter under apartheid. Disguising oneself as a member of the recognized and approved group is at the same time a subversive act of infiltration and a concession to an impossible racist, sexist, or otherwise segregating system.

  This type of resistance, discreetly executed by girls and women and parents where gender segregation exists, often in isolation and sometimes in groups, is not only global; it may reach back to the formation of the patriarchal system itself. When the submission of women was codified through law and religion, when the only way to elevate a woman’s existence came through marriage, and when the need for sons became absolute in every family, the first bacha posh likely soon began to infiltrate male territory.

  Just as Zahra’s grandmother was told when she was a child: Bacha posh existed in Afghanistan “when there were only bows and arrows.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE GODDESS

  REMNANTS OF ONE particular old faith lie just under the surface of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan.

  In the 1970s, Louis Duprée wrote: “The Islam practiced in Afghan villages, nomad camps and most urban areas would be almost unrecognizable to a sophisticated Muslim scholar. Aside from faith in Allah and in Muhammad as the messenger of Allah, most beliefs relate to localized, pre-Muslim customs. Some of the ideals of Afghan tribal society run counter to literate Islamic principles.”

  That still holds true.

  A teacher of religious law at Kabul University has reluctantly offered the first clue. The practice of bacha posh can be traced, he believes, at least to “the Sassanid time” in Afghanistan, and with that the belief that such a child will spur actual sons through “magic.” It is common knowledge, according to the teacher. But he offers no books to prove it, nor further reference. While most countries have their share of folklore tales and myth, it would be both dangerous and potentially criminal to discuss the existence of influences other than Islam here.

  During the Sassanid period, spanning the third to seventh centuries, Persians ruled Afghanistan under an empire stretching all the way to the Balkans. The dominant religion was Zoroastrianism.

  Around 1,400 years before Jesus was born, and 2,000 years before Muhammad, a man named Zoroaster is believed to have lived in Afghanistan. He was the founder and prophet of the faith, where water, fire, earth, and wind are holy elements and the universe is the subject of a constant struggle between good and evil. In Zoroastrianism, humans have the power to choose, and thereby side with either evil or good, through “good deeds, good thoughts, good actions.” Zoroaster preached that every person should take responsibility for his or her own actions and not blindly follow the rules of society—a belief system that later came to inspire Friedrich Nietzsche and other philosophers. Zoroastrians were also astronomers and early to astrology, using it to predict cyclical events.

  Once you know what to look for, remnants of Zoroastrian practices and beliefs are easily spotted in Afghan society today. A frequent sighting is the young boys (or girls made to look like them) on Kabul streets who offer protection from the evil eye. For a few coins, they rock a canister of burned seeds before passersby, in a ritual mimicking one performed by Zoroastrian temple attendants. Several elements of the traditional Afghan wedding ceremony follow Zoroastrian ritual, in particular the khastegari courting process of the bride’s parents by the groom’s family.

  And each spring, Afghans throw a big party to welcome the season.

  The calendar’s most exuberant holiday is the very un-Islamic but entirely Zoroastrian Nowruz, meaning “new day.” It usually falls on March 21, the first day of spring and the first day of the Persian calendar’s new year, when the cycle of life begins anew. The house is cleaned and the best food is brought out. Children receive new clothes. Flower-festooned flagpoles are raised, and bonfires are lit. Young men jump over smaller fires to purify body and mind. Conservative Islamic men in Afghanistan use harsh words for the festival, denouncing it as unacceptable and pagan.

  In Zoroastrianism, marriage was an obligation, its main purpose being to produce sons to carry the family name or enter the priesthood, where only men were allowed. In a direct parallel to modern-day Afghan attempts to produce sons, “magic” was employed in various ways to make it happen. The very word that translates as “magic” can be traced to Zoroastrianism, where its priesthood, called magi, led rituals, coordinated the worship of fire, and handled all things magical.

  In the Sassanid era, it was believed that during pregnancy, a woman could affect the sex of the fetus in her womb by performing certain rituals and relying on magic occurring through prayer, animal sacrifices, and visits to shrines. Appeals in shrines could for instance be directed to the Persian goddess Anahita; still a very popular name for girls in Afghanistan. She was seen as in charge of fertility and the protector of life-giving water, who can heal the wounded and seed women’s wombs. By appealing to her, a woman could nudge conception in the right direction.

  Today, Afghans pray for sons in mosques, but as Louis Duprée found already in his time, “almost any stone thrown in Afghanistan” will hit a shrine, or a pir, which is the Zoroastrian name for a place of worship. In the valley of Paiminar, just north of Kabul, he located at least forty shrines dedicated to fertility, where women come to pray and buy magical amulets guaranteeing sons, often constructing little symbolic beds of straw to remind the saint to help out in the marital bed.

  To Sunni Muslims, saints are decidedly un-Islamic, since the prophet Muhammad explicitly forbade revering the tombs of humans. But shrines are still visited by current-day Afghans who come to pray there. Some shrines have been converted into mosques; others are places where followers of the Shia denomination of Islam—which took hold in Iran and later incorporated many Zoroastrian traditions—believe an important holy man is buried. At more modest shrines, the tale of who the buried saint may be—or if one existed at all—may be muddled. But all are still thought to fulfill wishes delivered in prayer, which are often said to revolve around having sons.

  In Jalalabad, a shrine dedicated to fertility is well-known and recommended for sons. Many women also take the journey to the Blue Mosque in Mazar-i-Sharif to pray for sons. When a territory is conquered, whatever came before is often erased from history books, and its places of worship eradicated or repurposed. Officially, the Blue Mosque is said to hold the remains of one of the prophet Muhammad’s relatives, but it also stands in the middle of what used to be the center for Zoroastrianism: Afghanistan’s Balkh province, where Zoroaster is believed to have lived and died.

  In Kabul, women can often name at least one or two shrines specializing in boosting fertility. They will offer informed reviews on which shrine produces the best results, based on the successes of sisters, daughters, and friends. The shrines can be ornate or dusty holes-in-the-wall, with male shrine keepers.

  These places of worshi
p usually charge a small fee, and some offer tips on specific prayers that may make a son arrive sooner. Fluttering green flags sprinkled across Kabul announce their shrines’ locations: There is one on the road to the airport; another next to the Ministry of Communication and Information Technology. At the one by Kabul River, mostly poor women gather to pray and bring sacrifices in the form of sweet desserts for their wishes to be fulfilled. The Shrine of Hazrat Ali, a short drive from Kabul by Kharga Lake, is a popular excursion for newlyweds.

  At the Pir Beland Shahib, near a hotel where mostly foreigners stay, seventy-eight irregular steps lead up to an open-air shrine surrounded by brick walls. There, young women and men respectfully enter after removing their shoes, first kissing the flagpole three times, then kissing several of the strips of fabric and scarves tied as wish ribbons throughout the shrines—all typical for a Zoroastrian place of worship. A silent prayer is said, eyes closed facing the sun, followed by the lighting of candles or making a small offering of money or foods.

  Forty-year-old Fatima, who is pregnant with a child she has confirmed is a son, is triumphant as she leaves: For some things, shrines just work better than mosques, she explains to Setareh after she and I have raced each other up the steps one day.

  Fatima is a Muslim; a devout one at that, she confirms. But she was taking no chances in her desperate need for a son. That could always use a little extra help from the gods.

  ANOTHER ZOROASTRIAN TRADITION is to divide foods by the hot or cold effect they have on the body, and the belief that certain foods can heal disease if used and combined correctly. These classifications do not correlate to food that may be heated or spicy, but rather to the effect they are believed to have on a person’s blood. It was also thought that the sex of an unborn child could be determined by eating certain types of food, to make a woman’s blood more “hot” or “cold.” Anthropologist Charles Lindholm recorded these same beliefs and food classification system in his research into Pashtun culture in the 1980s.