Afghan-Iranian Taekwondo athlete and advocate for women’s rights in Afghanistan, Marzieh Hamidi, recieved the International Women’s Rights Award at the 18th annual Geneva Summit for Human Rights and Democracy. Click here to view the presentation of the award by Sophia Aram.
Full Remarks:
I am not here to tell you a sad story. I am here to tell you the truth as I lived it — a truth about what happens when a system decides that women must disappear and boys must be reshaped into weapons.
I knew exactly who I was. But the regimes around me could not tolerate a woman with an identity. That is how I learned something early: power does not fear weapons — it fears women who refuse obedience.
I was born Afghanistani. I was born in Iran. But the country where I was born never accepted me as its own. I spoke the language. I lived there. And still, I was treated as temporary, replaceable, invisible. That is how identity is erased: not by denying your existence, but by denying your rights.
Taekwondo saved me.
As an athlete, I learned something powerful: when you train your body, you train your mind. And when a woman controls her body, she becomes very difficult to rule.
When I joined the Afghanistan national team, I saw the system clearly. They told me I was a gift for Afghanistan. They praised my talent. But I watched how other girls were treated — ignored, controlled, reduced to decoration. They invested in boys. They managed girls.
They asked me to cover my body during training — not for performance, not for safety — but because they feared judgment. After I won a competition, they begged me to wear a hijab for the medal ceremony — not because I thought that way, but because powerful men were watching.
That was the moment I understood: they were not afraid of my results. They were afraid of my visibility.
Then the Taliban came.
I remember standing by the window in Kabul when people started running home. The announcement came: the Taliban were in the city. And suddenly, women disappeared. The streets emptied of us.
When I went outside fully covered, I felt something terrifying: men looked at me like I did not belong there — like my presence was a mistake.
That was the moment I understood: Afghanistani women were not just oppressed. We were being erased.
At the same time, my mother began receiving calls from our family in the north of Afghanistan. They were crying: “They are taking our boys by force from Badakhshan. They take them to madrasas in Kabul, in Pakistan.”
Girls erased. Boys taken. Families powerless.
And now I want to say something with courage. The world keeps saying: “Open the schools.” I said it too. But today, I say this without fear: it is better for schools to remain closed than for girls and boys to be sent to Taliban madrasas. Because those are not schools — they are terrorist factories.
Girls do not learn science or freedom. They learn silence. Boys do not learn critical thinking. They learn obedience and violence.
This is not education. This is how a generation is destroyed.
Let me be absolutely clear: we do not want to live with the Taliban. We want a free Afghanistan — an Afghanistan with democracy, with a state where religion does not control women’s bodies or people’s minds.
Yes, Afghanistan is a Muslim country. And it is also a country of many ethnicities, beliefs, and identities. All of them deserve protection. All of them deserve dignity. All of them deserve a democracy that respects belief — not one that weaponizes it.
Stop calling the Taliban an “Islamic Emirate.” They are not an Emirate. They are not a government. They are terrorists.
Do not normalize them with language. Nothing can normalize them. They were terrorists yesterday. They are terrorists today. And they will remain terrorists tomorrow.
I know this not as theory, but as lived reality.
They crossed borders to silence me. They sent rape threats, death threats, messages describing exactly how they would kill me — not because I carried a weapon, but because I spoke.
This is what terrorism looks like. And yet, the world remains soft with terrorists. Because calling them terrorists has consequences. Because recognition requires action. Because normalization is easier than responsibility.
That is why I am here today — to say this clearly: the international community must recognize gender apartheid as a crime. Not as a concept. Not as a slogan. But as a crime under international law.
Because gender apartheid is not culture. It is not religion. It is not tradition. It is a system of domination.
Recognizing gender apartheid as a crime would change everything. It would block the political normalization of the Taliban. It would delegitimize their rule. And it would finally deliver justice to Afghanistani women.
This is not symbolic. This is strategic. This is legal. This is necessary.
As an athlete, I learned something early: a woman who controls her body cannot be ruled. That is why they banned women from sport — because discipline creates resistance, and resistance threatens power.
Today, I live under police protection — not because I am violent, but because I refuse silence. That is the cost of truth under terrorism.
Then I spoke about something else. I spoke about sport — about the Afghan national cricket team. I said this clearly: you cannot sit with terrorists, work with terrorists, represent terrorists, and pretend you are neutral. You cannot normalize terrorism and call it sport.
And this is important: sometimes the danger is not only the Taliban. It is the lobbyists, the institutions, the people who normalize them, give them platforms, and help them look acceptable.
After I spoke about this, the threats began: calls, messages, warnings.
People ask me today: why were they so angry — so ready to kill me, to rape me?
The answer is simple: because first, I am a woman. Second, I am a free woman. Third, I am against their ideology. Fourth, I know exactly what they are doing.
That is what terrifies them.
My lawyer asked me: are you sure you want to continue this fight? It will be long — because justice is always long — and it is dangerous.
I did not hesitate. I said, “Yes.” Because I have been fighting injustice since I was a teenager, and I will not stop now.
Today, I live under police protection — not because I chose violence, but because I refused silence. I left Afghanistan to be safe, and yet the same ideology followed me to Europe.
Still, I am here.
Today, you give me this award. I accept it — not as an honor alone, but as a responsibility.
And I dedicate it to the women of Afghanistan, who are being erased in real life. And to the women of Iran, who are beaten and killed for refusing compulsory control over their bodies.
Different regimes. Same ideology: control women, erase identity, call it order.
So do not ask us to coexist with terrorists. Do not ask us to compromise with gender apartheid. And do not ask us to “wait” while generations are destroyed.
We are not asking for inclusion. We are demanding liberation. And liberation has never been polite.
Thank you.
18th Annual Geneva Summit for Human Rights and Democracy, U.N. Opening, Tuesday, February 17, 2026
Key Quotes:
“They crossed borders to silence me.They sent rape threats and death threats. Not because I carried a weapon, but because I spoke.”
“Today, I live under police protection not because I chose violence, but because I refused silence.”
“I accept this award as responsibility. I dedicate it to the women of Afghanistan and Iran, who are being erased for refusing control over their bodies.”
“Different regimes. Same ideology. Do not ask us to coexist with terrorists. Do not ask us to compromise with gender apartheid. We are not asking for inclusion. We are demanding liberation. And liberation has never been polite.”
