Book Review: The Underground Girls of Kabul: In Search of a Hidden Resistance in Afghanistan
By Gulfer Ulas
Jenny Nordberg. The Underground Girls of Kabul: In Search of a Hidden Resistance in Afghanistan. Little Brown Book Group, 2014. ISBN 9781844087754, Pp: 368.
Have you ever heard about the bacha posh tradition in Afghanistan? While Jenny Nordberg, a Swedish journalist at the New York Times, was in Afghanistan for another research on its parliamentary women, she heard about this practice from local children[1]. Recently, she uncovered this hidden custom in her fascinating book, Underground Girls of Kabul.
The bacha posh, in Dari, means "dressed as a boy." In patriarchal Afghanistan, where the culture revolves around the high value of men and sons, parents convert one of their daughters into a boy to raise their social standing. Girls in this role have cropped haircuts, dress in traditional clothes reserved for men, and behave in ways socially associated with masculinity. Under bacha posh, once a woman reaches puberty, she is expected to revert to her biological sex, and the tradition continues with the family's youngest daughter.
Divided into four parts, the Underground Girls of Kabul delves into this centuries-old Afghan practice and explains the different socio-economic factors and family reasons behind striking cases. Often seen as a “don’t ask, don’t tell” story, the proud families who adopt the tradition, benefit from facilities in public and work life.
The book starts with the story of a female politician, Azita, who used to be a bacha posh, and her journey of raising her fourth daughter, Mehran, as a boy to gain public dignity for her political career.
Following their story, Nordberg explores how the tradition allows girls to support their families financially. She describes the story of Sakina, the daughter of a Pashtun general, who goes to school during the day, and in the evening, puts on her grey tunic to work in a grocery store to support her family. Nordberg further reports her as having no regret about being raised as a son since it allowed her to enjoy greater freedom and a higher social status than a woman usually would in Afghanistan (pp.129).
Some bach posh can be more engaged in their roles than expected. For example, the author narrates the story of Zahra, aka “Tomboy,” who continued to refuse women's attire after puberty. While her parents, especially her mother, insisted that she should revert to her biological sex, they remained that “this is Zahra’s personal choice,” words pronounced proudly by her father, Samir (pp.110). He later adds, as recounted by Nordberg, “She is taller than her sisters now, and maybe she has some of me in her.” Zahra is also described as perceiving men as strong and discreet; according to her, “being a boy is much more simple in dressing; boys are talking less, and avoiding gossip” (pp.104). The theory behind this is perhaps best explained by American philosopher and gender theorist, Judith Butler, who details gender as a cultural and social construct built through the repetition of adopted acts.[2]
Two other stories echo the same mixed feelings of pride and desire to take over the ‘man’ role: Hukmina, a fifty-year-old woman who fought against the Soviets and opposed the Taliban during the war, and Nader, a woman who now avoids marriage of any kind. The former explains to the author that: “If I did feel like a woman, I would not be able to do these things” (pp.193). At the same time, the latter evokes that once she experienced the freedom of being a boy in Afghan society, she did not want to go back to being a woman.
However, despite enjoying more freedom under the bacha posh tradition, these women endure challenging psychological changes and identity crises as they revert to their biological sex once they reach adulthood. For example, when Shukria got married after puberty, her husband divorced her and married another woman, resulting in her blaming her upbringing for not being a ‘good female fit’ (pp.163). Moreover, as seen with cases like Zahra, a bacha posh is also sometimes synonym for a traumatic experience regarding one’s perception of gender and sex. After experiencing freedom as a boy, it is difficult for a girl to accept her feminity, as she ends up praising manhood. In other words, it is difficult to avoid derogatory feelings in a strictly patriarchal society where women are commonly suppressed, and struggle to define their feelings on sex, gender and love.
In addition, Nordberg, through her book, highlights the disparities between the living cycles of women in Afghanistan and Western countries with the bacha posh tradition. One of the most striking examples is when, in a conversation with Asma, Zahra’s mother, she relates the young girl's surprise to the normality of women wearing pants in Western countries.
On the other hand, the widespread cultural practice echoes a form of rebellion and social relief from the strict Afghan political regime, led by the Taliban and the restriction of women from public life. It is one of the underground practices that we rarely encounter via media reporting. Hence, Nordberg’s book is not only an important reference to understand the background of the cultural codes behind the practice, but also a remarkable asset for further studies regarding gender roles and social norms.
To resume, The Underground Girls of Kabul is a captivating book that describes how the bacha posh practice emerged at the intersection of traditions and pragmatism drove by men in Afghanistan – considered of higher social status within and outside the family household. It calls attention to the need for more equitable gender norms in the country and encourages greater female engagement in public and private spheres.
Despite its problematic aspect, the culture of gender roles remains highly accepted and dominant in places like Kabul, where women are trapped in serving the patriarchal society. Ironically, while the bacha posh practice continue to persevere, most women in these places still give birth to a high number of girls. To confront this cultural ethos, both men and women should give explicit support to the participation of their daughters both at home and in the society. It is only by moving forward together through gender-biases that we can achieve true equality and inclusivity.
About the Author: Jenny Nordberg is a New York-based foreign correspondent and a columnist for the Swedish national newspaper Svenska Dagbladet.