This is not an emotional lament. I want to speak about facts. Whether they taste like sorrow or sweetness, truth is often the sharpest medicine.

Recently, I visited a family in a small village. The little girls I met there made me think. Maybe they weren’t even aware of it, but the helplessness they lived in was so familiar, so silently corroding, that just watching from a distance was enough to feel the weight.

To most of them, “education” seems like the only path—but in reality, neither education nor any other option truly exists. These girls have no idea what the world outside the village looks like. They don’t know freedom. They don’t know hope. I used to feel sad about that. But now, sometimes I think—maybe it’s better they don’t know. Because once you know, you begin to desire. And once you desire, the lack of it starts to burn you. If you don’t have the means, you just burn—quietly.

I used to wonder why people didn’t think deeper. Now I realize: sometimes, thinking is a luxury. In certain places, survival is mandatory. Even if your soul is suffocating, even if you’re rotting from the inside, you have to stay in that house. And some people can’t handle that burden—they choose to end it. Others survive, but their spirit has long been buried. That’s why I no longer know what to feel: Should I cry? Should I rage? Or maybe just walk away. Because the weight of this world is too much to carry.

And yes, it may sound cruel, but sometimes not caring is a form of consciousness. Knowing your limits means not trying to carry the entire world’s pain. Sometimes, focusing on your own life is the smartest thing to do.

Women in these villages catch my attention more than anyone else. Their silence is deeper, heavier. I compare the women I see here to the women in the city. Then I compare them to women in other countries. The gap is nauseating.

I won’t get sentimental here. Because as brutal as it may be, truth must be spoken.

When I say “village,” don’t picture the neat, green countryside of Switzerland or northern France. I’m talking about villages in the Middle East. A reality built on dust, trash, and struggle. Healthcare is scarce. Education is almost non-existent. Safety is a fantasy. Social life for women? Completely absent.

Before criticizing those who live in these homes, we must pause and reflect on history. Don’t romanticize it too much. The reason for this backwardness isn’t just foreign powers or the state. Why didn’t people demand better? Why didn’t they ask for schools? Why didn’t they raise their voices?

If we don’t talk about these things, nothing will change for those little girls in the villages.