Horrors a World Away Set East L.A. Students Into Action

The girls at Ramona High School have troubles of their own. Troubles with gangs, with grades, with truancy, troubles with drugs, with foster homes, with babies. That’s why they’re here--the tiny campus in Boyle Heights was founded half a century ago as a haven for troubled girls.

But a month ago, its 150 or so students were shown “Shroud of Silence,” a documentary about the plight of women and children under the Taliban regime in Afghanistan, and the girls at Ramona High found out that--as difficult as life may seem--there are places where it is much, much worse.

Under the Taliban’s draconian interpretation of Islamic law, Afghan women--once doctors, teachers and members of government--have been forced to leave their jobs; girls have been forced to leave school, all are confined to their homes, the windows of which are painted black. On the few occasions they are allowed in public, they must wear burkas, head-to-toe coverings broken only by a small square of mesh at eye level. Because they are not allowed contact with men other than their husbands, not even doctors, many reportedly die of easily treated illnesses; others, unable to endure the isolation, commit suicide. The penalties for breaking any of the Taliban’s drastic laws, (men are not allowed to be cleanshaven or wear bright clothing) range from public flogging to death by stoning.

Because of such human-rights abuses, the world community, with the exception of Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, refuses to recognize the Taliban as the official government.

For most of the girls at Ramona, however, the film marked the first time they had even heard of the Taliban.

“Everyone was in shock,” said Linda Sabori, who, at 18, is a wife and mother of a 2-year-old and a 2-month-old. “I kept thinking how can they survive?”

“We couldn’t believe something like that was happening,” said Berlyn Castillo, 17. “I tried to put myself in their position, and I just couldn’t. But we all wanted to help. Right away, we wanted to help.”

That was the point, after all. Ramona’s principal and staff had been asked to participate in an adopt-a-school program organized by the Foundation for the Feminist Majority as part of its Campaign to Stop Gender Apartheid in Afghanistan. This year, the campaign--which is chaired by Mavis Leno, wife of Jay--has been encouraging schools across the country to “adopt” schools in the Pakistan refugee camps to which many Afghan families have fled and the few underground schools in Afghanistan. As the only all-girl public high school in Los Angeles, Ramona seemed a perfect place to launch the L.A. campaign.

Principal Sherry Breskin agreed at once. “We try to get the girls involved civically whenever we can,” she said. “It helps them feel part of society, helps them feel they can make a difference.”

But neither Breskin nor teacher Ruth Castro, who helped organize the screening of “Shroud of Silence,” expected the force of the girls’ reaction. The film--produced by Michel Cicero, a Feminist Majority foundation staff member and Lorraine Sheinberg, a board member--uses archival footage to document the Afghan women’s previous freedoms. To show conditions under the Taliban, which seized control of the Afghan capital in 1996, the filmmakers obtained footage by a woman working for Physicians for Human Rights, and other images smuggled out of the country.

The film, which won awards at the Santa Barbara and Telluride film festivals, has been shown on campuses around the country. Everywhere, the reaction is the same: “Somewhere between tears and horror,” said Cicero. “As a filmmaker, it has been very gratifying to know the film can evoke these emotions.”

Blurred images of executions and beatings are testimony to the physical brutality of the regime, but even more horrifying are the cloaked figures of the women, barely recognizable as humans, scurrying along the edges of roads, through the marketplace.

At Ramona, the girls watched in complete silence. “It was amazing,” said Castro. “They were just shocked, and all of them wanted to know how this could happen and what they could do to help. The first thing they asked was: ‘Can we send them money?’ ”

Money is not exactly abundant among the students at Ramona--nor in the surrounding neighborhoods--but in a few weeks, the girls were able to collect more than $200, which they presented to Mavis Leno last month. They had also collected 200 signatures on a petition asking the U.S. government to do all it can to aid the women and children of Afghanistan. Many of the girls had taken the petitions door-to-door to their neighbors and friends. Once they explained what it was about, they got lots of support and encouragement.

“Even the men reacted. They couldn’t believe it either,” said Castillo, who was sent to Ramona because she was skipping school and failing most of her classes at Roosevelt High. “And I was really proud of the fact that we were able to do this in East L.A. So now, maybe people will know we’re not as bad as they think.”

Many of the girls, including Castillo and Sabori, felt an immediate connection with the Afghan women. “We know how a woman feels if she’s put down,” said Sabori. “Here we get empowered, and they need the same thing.”

Sabori originally attended Garfield High, but when she became pregnant with her second child, she fell behind in her classes, so she wound up at Ramona. Her mother-in-law, she said, thinks she should drop out completely and take care of her family--a message other girls say they hear as well.

The two have taken leadership roles in the adopt-a-school program and speak passionately about the importance of self-esteem and making their voices heard--things they say they have learned at Ramona.

“We all come here with attitudes,” said Castillo. “We think we’re tough. I didn’t take advantage of my education. And especially when I saw that film, I thought: ‘What am I doing? I’m wasting it.’ Those women want to go to school and they can’t.”

The students on their own, cannot rescue a nation of women; the girls know this. But even so, Castro said, sometimes the enormousness of the situation overwhelms them. “I just tell them we will do what we can do, we will help where we can.”

They were recently put in direct contact with their adopted school, which is in Pachawar, Pakistan. The money they send will be used to buy chalkboards, pencils, books and other school supplies.

Ramona recently performed “Bellyfruit,” a play about teen moms, which was co-written by Janet Borrus, who has taught at the high school in the past. In directing the play, she said, she used “Shroud of Silence” as an acting exercise, asking cast members to imagine they were girls in Afghanistan.

There were several performances of “Bellyfruit.” Greeting visitors, Breskin and some of the girls wore small squares of mesh pinned to their shirts and lapels, symbols of the burkas that Afghan women must wear. Slipped into the play programs was a brief explanation of the adopt-a-school program.

The girls hope to raise $100 a month. Right now, they are selling song dedications, played over the PA system during lunch hour, for a quarter a piece. They plan to send letters as well so, said Sabori, “the women will know that people are thinking of them and doing something.”

The fact that those “people” are the girls at Ramona makes the message particularly poignant. The school itself is by no means wealthy--last year it needed emergency funds from the district to buy toilet paper and recently had to scramble for $20,000 to keep the infant center open during the summer session.

“It just shows that girls facing their own struggles can still do something to help others,” said Katherine Spillar, national coordinator for the Feminist Majority foundation. “The girls are very interested in being politically involved, and it’s been very empowering for them.”

But that, too, is the point. At Ramona, the girls say, they receive the one-on-one attention and a level of patience and understanding that they could not find in other schools. Learning to cope with their own troubles has made them stronger, and they want to pass that along. “The women over there,” said Sabori, “need schools like this one.”