Earlier, I posted Chapter 1-18 of my new series of blogs, which will collectively form an online book. Below, I have attached Chapter 19. Chapter 20 is scheduled for publication in 2 weeks.

Chapter 19: Challenges that changed my legal path

Disclaimer: Since this is primarily a fictional story, please do not take everything I write too seriously

[…] Elara’s countenance transformed, her eyes widening with a mixture of curiosity and mild bewilderment. Her voice, tinged with a hint of disbelief, broke the momentary silence that came between us. “I didn’t know you studied law in the past,” she remarked, her tone reflecting genuine surprise. “I thought you only studied economics before we met at university?” Her response was preceded by a smile, one that carried a touch of wistfulness and perhaps a hint of frustration. It was a smile that spoke volumes before words were even uttered.

“Well, Elara,” I said, my voice carrying the weight of unspoken experiences, “there are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

This statement hung in the air, showcasing the implications of the depth and breadth of human experience that often remain hidden, even from those closest to us.

I continued, my words painting a picture of a modern dilemma faced by many in our hyper-connected yet paradoxically isolated world: “And although I have been very active on social media and have thousands of followers online,” I explained, my tone laced with irony, “over the past 15 years, I’ve felt that no one on this earth truly knows who I am or what I’ve experienced—not even my own family.” This feeling underscored a common issue many of us face: the significant gap between how we present ourselves online and how little others truly understand the complexities of our real lives.

My next words carried a more deliberate tone, outlining a solution to this perceived disconnect. “That’s why it’s crucial for my experiences to be shared with the world,” I declared, my voice firm with conviction. “So that my knowledge, skills, and experiences can be passed on to future generations, and maybe can help some people who are experiencing the same as what I went through.” In that moment, I envisioned a bridge between my unspoken truths and those eager to learn, a connection that could transcend both time and distance.

“What do you mean by that? What kind of secrets have you kept that I don’t know more about?” she smiled. I could see in her eyes that she didn’t like that despite our years of friendship, even my best friend didn’t recognize me for who I am. And that hurt me deeply because, ever since I was a teenager, I had only one choice: to live with two different faces. One was for the outside world—my family, society, and the version of life everyone could see. The other was hidden, full of secrets, knowledge, and skills I rarely shared with anyone, out of fear of being laughed at or feeling too disconnected from the world around me.

The amazement and unspoken questions in Elara’s eyes, as she sat across from me, brought me back to the present moment. Her curious gaze seemed to urge me on, so I continued. “Well, as I mentioned before, I didn’t have the courage to share my story with the world yet. Many of my secrets, as I told you earlier, began when I learned to hack computers at the age of 16. Despite that, shortly after, at 16 or 17, I experienced a year filled with joy, where I felt like a normal teenager again. But destiny had other plans and pushed me toward things the teens around me weren’t doing. I had to break through barriers to achieve success, facing challenges far more complicated than I could have imagined. Let me explain what I mean by that in more detail.”

For a moment, I paused, taking time to gather my thoughts, then I continued.

“You see, after successfully completing the special preparation program, I could easily register for the Law Bachelor’s degree. However, I began to doubt whether law was the right path for me. A part of me wanted to become a journalist, but since my Dutch wasn’t yet perfect, I wasn’t allowed to enroll in the journalism program, so I chose law instead.”

“Funny, I didn’t know you ever wanted to be a journalist!” Elara interrupted with a smile.

“Like I said, there are more things you don’t know,” I replied with a smile before continuing: “After registering for the Law Bachelor’s program, I was allowed to start without any issues, which I initially thought would set the course for the rest of my life. Shortly after my registration, I received a letter confirming my admission and welcoming me to the program, which was set to begin on September 1st. By that time, I was already 17. To celebrate, my family took me out to eat. Afterward, I spent the entire summer holiday purchasing the necessary books for my studies and mentally preparing myself for the challenging journey ahead, which I sensed wouldn’t be easy.

Once the new school year started, I was surprised to find that the level of study was much higher than I had ever imagined. I still vividly remember being one of the few women in the class and the only non-Dutch student. This made it challenging to connect with my classmates at first. From being a smiling and cheerful person who talked non-stop, I reverted to being quiet again. Although my Dutch was good, it was still insufficient for understanding the lessons and the textbooks. As you know, the legal field uses a lot of difficult terminology, jargon, and complex sentence structures, which made it very hard for me to follow along.

Unfortunately, there were also no support facilities at the university to help me quickly learn the specialized jargon and difficult words from the textbooks, leading to a significant drop in my motivation to complete the studies I was so eager to pursue. At that time, the Internet was just emerging; there were no digital archives, almost no online textbooks, and Google Translate didn’t exist yet. This meant I had to carry three very thick law books home every day, along with two hefty dictionaries that nearly resembled encyclopedias. There were also no lockers at school to store anything.

With my laptop, workbooks, and schoolbooks in tow, I became extremely exhausted, and my shoulders started to ache. What was supposed to be a joyful year turned into exceedingly long days. I stayed at school from very early in the morning until very late in the evening, translating texts into Dutch with a dictionary by my side, which left me with little time to study for exams.

Each week, we were also required to attend court to observe live cases, and once again, the language barrier made this experience challenging. However, these obstacles motivated me to adapt and learn Dutch more quickly than I had anticipated. This process significantly improved my vocabulary and helped my Dutch reach a high professional level within six months, allowing me to speak it fluently.

Nonetheless, the journey was not without its difficulties. My collaboration with classmates wasn’t always smooth, as I often struggled to understand the legal texts. These challenges ignited a strong desire within me to explore other fields of study, motivating me to seek new opportunities.

Also, several other factors contributed to my decision to stop my law studies. A major concern was the situation in Afghanistan, which weighed heavily on my mind.

You might have heard that in the early 2000s, discussions intensified in the Netherlands about the deportation of all Afghans living in the country. Other countries around the world also began deportations. This was due to an agreement reached between Western nations and the newly formed Afghan government following the Taliban’s defeat. The prevailing belief was that it was now safe to send all refugees back and that the country needed these refugees, who were mostly highly educated, to rebuild the country. Even though there were daily attacks in the country and girls in Afghanistan were still afraid to go outside alone, the rebuilding policy played a significant role in the policies of the Western world.

As I followed the news reports about the deportation of Afghans, I realized that our own situation was becoming increasingly precarious. The risk that my family and I would be deported back to Afghanistan loomed large, as it was deemed safe for everyone with Afghan background to return. Those refugees who had lived in the Netherlands for less than five years were particularly vulnerable, facing strict criteria for deportation, regardless of their residence status. Since we were relatively new residents, we were among the first at risk.

My mind was plagued with thoughts of potential deportation, leaving me unsure of whether it made sense to complete my law studies, as I was primarily studying Dutch law — a knowledge that would have no value outside of Europe. In the event of deportation, I knew that my education would not lead me far in life. Therefore, I decided to spend my time and energy on a field of study that would be useful abroad and that would provide me with opportunities at an international level to live elsewhere. I also decided to use each day I had left in the Netherlands to learn as many valuable things as possible since I knew that getting an education back there in Afghanistan for a Western-minded girl like me would be nearly impossible.

The tipping point for definitively stopping my law studies came when I began to see some of my Afghan friends, whom I had met upon my arrival in the Netherlands, being deported one by one. This created a deep sense of anxiety and led me to decide to stop my law studies. Naturally, I also felt a great deal of pressure, and I feared it was only a matter of time before my family and I would face the same fate as my friends.

All these experiences caused me to question the legal and policy strategies, as it seemed unreasonable to send all Afghans back to a country where attacks occurred daily. I began to have many questions, such as: Are the rules and laws actually correct in their core principles and applied properly, or do they need to be changed because not all circumstances are adequately addressed?

As I continued to reflect on my experiences, more questions emerged: How can I effectively contribute to the world while primarily working on individual cases? It seemed daunting to find a way to leverage my efforts on a global scale, especially when each case we were handling at school felt so isolated and specific. I also witnessed firsthand that many legal actions and texts were outdated or not enforced as necessary, particularly concerning the deportation of Afghans to a country where war and violence were ever-present. Additionally, I observed that many laws were too vague and abstract, creating a gap in understanding. This meant that not everyone could apply them in the same way, potentially disadvantaging some individuals. In my view, updating legal texts was necessary. However, since I had chosen to study law, it meant I had to follow these rules rather than having the power to change them. That thought troubled me greatly, and I knew I had to go beyond the law to truly contribute and leave something for the greater good and humanity.

Long story short, after six months, I realized that I no longer wanted to continue the lifestyle I had created for myself. Every day, I carried thick books under my arm from early morning to late at night, envisioning a future in a small office practicing law, but unable to make a significant impact on a global scale. The fear of deportation and the realization that my law studies might ultimately be meaningless weighed also heavily on me.

So one day, after much consideration, I told my parents that I was going to quit my law studies. I remember my father getting very angry, saying I had wasted a valuable year of my life. He insisted that quitting was unwise since a law degree would offer me a very secure future. But I was determined and told him, “Dad, it’s my future, and I know for sure that I don’t want to pursue this any longer.”

I didn’t provide my father with too many details about the thoughts swirling in my mind at such a young age, as I didn’t want to worry my parents. Instead, I tried to reassure them that we wouldn’t be deported. Even if the government attempted to do so, we would find a way to stay because the Netherlands already felt like home to us.”

“That’s intense,” Elara said. “I had no idea about these details of your teenage life.”

“Yes, it was intense, Elara. For someone like me, who had faced so many challenges just to be allowed to pursue a Bachelor’s degree in Law, it was a very difficult decision to step away from it like this. It was especially difficult knowing that my father, family, and friends would think I had failed in my university studies. Some believed I was taking on too much and that I couldn’t handle it. They would feel validated by my decision to quit and would tell me so. This made it hard for me since I had always believed I could achieve anything. But I kept my mouth shut to prevent others from getting too caught up in my negative thoughts.

Fortunately, after a few days, my father came around and asked what I would do next.

I remember looking through many folders of applied sciences. Finally, I decided to pursue Business Administration, specializing in a combination of law and management, with a minor in International Business, to guarantee myself a good future internationally. The subjects in this program were varied and interesting, and I felt confident about pursuing this new direction.

So, at seventeen and a half, I began studying Business Administration. I must say this program suited me well. Not only was the environment diverse due to its international nature, but many classes were also offered in English. I no longer felt lonely. I also met some fellow Afghans at this faculty, and we became very close friends, some of whom I’m still in touch with today. This program gave me the opportunity to explore new directions that aligned with my interests.”

To be continued…