Amnesty in Afghanistan

It's another Amnesty International awareness campaign this week focused upon Women's right's, our monthly topic.

I always find that there's alot of stigma surrounding Women's rights. Anyone fighting for women's rights seems to be automatically deemed a feminist, as thought they might be promoting legislation to wipe the Earth clean of men. Really, all most people are, are freedom fighters.

Women in Afghanistan have very little basic human rights, far fewer than anywhere else in the world. Giving women access to education, access to health services and security from rape and physical abuse isn't such a crime, is it?

For this month's Amnesty post I've just written a short story about a female victim of domestic abuse, and here it is:

She stood trembling. Her eyes barely registered herself. It was her normal morning self; slanted sleep-drugged eyes, straw-slung hair and a crusty trail at the corner of her lips. It was the same her, but just so so different. She couldn't quite pinpoint why. Why should one night change everything? Why shouldn't it change everything?

The mirror wasn't as kind as those ugly watery reflections of the mud puddles in the street. They contorted her in the most complimentary of ways. And now, as she gazed through herself, this clarity, this glass like still, took her exactly as she was. Completely broken and wholly fragmented.

A hole, just above her stomach bled cleanly through the cream of her jumper. She lifted it, savouring the woolen kiss of the fabric. Her breathing intensified. The moment was like the birth of a newborn; so fragile, breath-taking yet so irrevocably frightening.

It began to emerge. A purple stain with green smudged rims. The work of an inexperienced painter. She hazarded a touch, reaching so slightly forward with her fingers. Their cool tips stung the enraged heat of the bruise. She drew back quickly and tugged her jumper back down. How would she explain this one? How did anyone explain this one?