Open Skies
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Although I had many friends across the US military, nearly all of them were deployed overseas or at locations where I couldn’t travel. I identified Tampa, Florida, as the place where I knew the most people and where I thought I might have the best chance of getting on my feet.
I reconnected with some of my contacts at CAE, and one of my friends from there offered me a room in her home with her family, to stay in for as long as I needed. This couple, Karen and Dennis, treated me like a daughter, going out of their way to make me comfortable and see to it I had everything I needed. And, just as important, they cared for me and listened to me as I wrestled with the immense upheaval, sadness, and fear racking my life.
I became active in the local and international community. I knew I wouldn’t be flying a C-130 again anytime soon, but being a pilot was part of my core. I joined the Ninety-Nines, an international organization for woman pilots cofounded by Amelia Earhart in 1929. The organization promotes the advancement of women in aviation through education, scholarships, and mutual support. I also began speaking about my experiences at air shows and other aviation events, encouraging both men and women to become pilots.
I settled into the normal pattern of life in America as best I could, going to restaurants, making friends, exercising, watching TV, going to the beach, and attending barbecues.
I must say, it really is wonderful to live in the United States. I miss my homeland terribly, but to wake up every morning free from fear and violence, and to be able to travel around and do as I please, is truly amazing. I am genuinely thankful to be here.
* * *
On April 19, 2019, CNN anchor Jake Tapper broke the news that I’d been granted asylum in the United States. Oddly, I hadn’t been notified yet and had no idea my case was nearing the end. I immediately called Kimberley to see if the news was true, and she confirmed it.
The nagging fear that had been festering at the back of my mind about whether I’d be allowed to remain in the United States suddenly vanished. I could stay, and I was safe. I was only twenty-eight years old and had already lived a full life, but I was still young and believed there was much more to do. Now I could get on with it.
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What’s Next
Since being granted asylum, I have applied for US citizenship. America has graciously given me a new life, and I now consider it my home and my country. I will always love Afghanistan—it is and will remain my homeland—but I want to be an American and give back to the country that’s done so much for me, my family, and my people.
Some said I quit when I resigned my commission and sought asylum in the United States, but they are wrong—dead wrong. I chose the only path I could. I have a long life ahead of me. My time as a pilot in Afghanistan was merely the first chapter.
In July 2020 I received an email from a friend, Leon Butler, who had been one of the administrators during my C-130 training. After I was granted asylum, he had reached out on my behalf to various flight schools so I could earn my commercial pilot license. His email said a school in Fort Myers, Florida, had offered me a full scholarship and an opportunity to teach at the school upon graduation. I will be forever grateful to Leon for getting me back in the air.
When I eventually become a US citizen, I intend to join the US Air Force to serve in any capacity I can. I would of course love to fly as a military officer again, but I will do what is necessary and wear the uniform with pride and honor, as I believe service to one’s country is one of the highest callings in life.
Alas, where I don’t feel relief is with my family. While my asylum case was pending, I spoke on the phone with them as often as I could, but the connection wasn’t always reliable. Also, they didn’t have the money or the time to keep making international calls.
For reasons I will not go into here, my older sister, Afsoon, came to the United States in July 2017. She also applied for asylum, and came to live with me in Tampa. Fortunately, she has been able to move a bit beyond the tragedy of her marriage and the loss of custody of her child. She’s getting on with her life, and having her with me has been very uplifting. No words can express how wonderful it is to be together with her again. We’re as close now as we were twenty years ago when we were children playing on playgrounds, cooking with our mother, and hiking with our father.
I have yet to see my father and mother, my brother, or my other sisters. It’s been five years. For their own safety, I will not identify where they are in the world, except to say they remained in the region and are trying to live day to day in peace. The threats have calmed down, and my brother has a family of his own and works for an IT company. My father is once again working as an engineer and doing what he loves. My mother is healthy, and my younger sisters are about to finish school themselves. But I fear they will always live with the reality that someone could come after them.
Unless my family leaves the region entirely, I suspect this fear will always be with me. I pray for them every day and constantly worry about them. They made me who I am, and I will always be thankful for their support and encouragement.
I am very lucky. I also worked hard and followed my dreams. I didn’t let anyone tell me I couldn’t do it. I became Afghanistan’s first female fixed-wing pilot—and this is who I am.
Afterword
Afghanistan’s future is still uncertain, and eventually the United States and NATO will pull out. When that happens, it’s almost certain the oppressions of the past will creep back into Afghan society. Other countries in the region are contending with similar situations, with governments and societies preventing girls from attending school, pursuing careers, being free from fear and sexual violence, and leading independent lives. And it’s not just women—there are countless minority and disenfranchised groups facing discrimination and persecution.
This can’t continue. If you come from one of these places—or anywhere, for that matter—you must fight for your freedoms and you must follow your dreams. Dreams are important. In many ways, they are what we live for. My dreams took me up into the sky, which is where I know I belong. Your dreams may be similar, or they may be totally different. It doesn’t matter how big or small they are; you must follow them.
You will face adversity. It could be similar to what I experienced, with unequal laws that block you from doing what you want to do, cultural stigmas attached to behavior that others consider unacceptable, or violence perpetrated by barbaric and evil groups. Adversity could also be benign and passive, and may come from those claiming to be on your side, trying to urge or shame you into doing or not doing things. But I encourage you not to be afraid and not to back down. Work to change the laws, change the perceptions, and change your society. Stand up for what you feel is right and just.
When you pursue your dreams, you will also doubt yourself at times. You may think you’re not smart enough, strong enough, brave enough, or worthy. This is normal. I felt these things as a young girl, during training, and even after I was a full-fledged pilot. But you need to stick with it. You can’t quit. And when you make mistakes or fail, you must get back up and try again and keep working at it. Nothing of real value comes easily, and we all must believe in ourselves. And when your confidence falters, don’t be afraid to lean on those who support and love you. They will stand with you.
Last, you will likely question whether it’s worth it. I did on many occasions. I knew that my choices brought immense hardship and suffering to my family, and the weight on me was suffocating at times. I still feel guilty, knowing that my family remains at risk. This choice—deciding whether it’s worth it—is probably one of the hardest you will encounter. I know it was for me. I personally could suffer and struggle, but when my actions affected the ones I held most dear, those I loved with all my heart, I seriously questioned what I was doing. You will need to contend with this in your own way; nevertheless, I implore you to see the bigger picture. Although my family endured much strife, they knew it was for a greater cause and they supported me. I was fortunate, and I hop
e you are too.
For all of you out there, change will come only if you choose to bring it about. You need to follow your calling in life, so others around you and who come after you can follow theirs.
We have so much to do—follow your dreams.
Acknowledgments
My dream to fly and the realization of this book would not have been possible without the immense sacrifices my family made. My father, Abdolwakil; mother, Tahera; brother, Mohammad Omar; and three sisters, Afsoon, Maryam, and Manizha, never wavered in their support, and I will be forever grateful. I am thankful for my grandmother, Zakhira Ahmadi, and uncle Mirwais Ahmadi, as well.
I would also like to thank my flight instructors who taught me to soar, especially Jarrod “JROD” Christopher Hollander, Larry “Morris” Bostrom, Gerard “Skid” Rowe, and James Davey. I am indebted to Molly Montgomery with the US State Department; my lawyer, Kimberley Motley; Margherita Stancati with the Wall Street Journal; and Majors Lindsey Bauer and Jessica Colby of the USAF, who supported and stood by me in the toughest of times. I am appreciative of Leon Butler, and of Chris and Sara Schoensee and Jeffery Wolf of the Paragon Flight Training school for getting me back up in the air. And last, I would like to thank my editor Jerome Pohlen and the team at Chicago Review Press, as well as my agents, Judy Coppage and Sam Dorrance, who believed this story had to be told and guided me every step of the way.