Ask Onix
Escape to Kabul
A 19-year-old Afghan woman, identified here as Alia for her protection, traveled hundreds of kilometers from her rural village to Kabul last year to avoid an arranged marriage. Disguised in full-body coverings, she and her cousin evaded Taliban checkpoints enforcing rules that bar women from long-distance travel without a male guardian.
False pretenses and fragile hope
Alia lied to her family, claiming she was visiting friends in the capital. Her real motive: enrolling in an English language course-one of the few remaining educational options for Afghan girls since the Taliban banned secondary schooling for females over 12 nearly five years ago. Private courses and religious madrasas offer limited alternatives, but neither replaces formal education.
"If I had stayed in Daykundi, I would have been forced to marry," Alia said. While her parents support her studies financially, they now urge her to accept marriage as her only viable future. "Before the ban, they told me I could become a pilot. Now they say marriage is the best path."
Marriage as the only option
Alia's story reflects a broader crisis. The United Nations estimates that if the education ban persists until 2030, over two million Afghan girls will be deprived of secondary schooling-a country already grappling with one of the world's lowest female literacy rates. For many, marriage has become the default fate.
In western Kabul, 22-year-old Shama, whose name was also changed for safety, shared her despair. Forced into marriage at 18 after her father's death, she now cares for two young daughters. "If the Taliban hadn't taken over, I would have almost finished school and been close to becoming a doctor," she said. "Instead, I'm trapped at home, living only for my children."
Shama's mother, Kamila, a widowed cleaner, pushed her into marriage out of fear. "I wanted her to be educated and independent, but I feared Taliban scrutiny if she remained unmarried," Kamila explained. "I'm illiterate, but I wanted my daughters to learn. Now, her dreams are unfulfilled."
Broken promises and legal regression
The Taliban's shifting justifications for the education ban underscore its permanence. In 2021, a spokesman cited security concerns. By 2024, Deputy Spokesman Hamdullah Fitrat deferred to "the leadership's decision," deflecting questions to the education ministry, which remained silent. When pressed, Fitrat highlighted that "seven million boys and five million girls" are currently enrolled in primary schools, sidestepping the secondary education ban.
Recent legal changes further erode women's rights. This month, the Taliban codified rules that implicitly legalize child marriage, interpreting a minor girl's silence as marital consent. The move contradicts Fitrat's claims of progress, including the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice resolving inheritance disputes and forced marriage cases.
Abandoned by the world
For Afghan women, the ban's emotional toll is visceral. Alia recalled sobbing for days after schools closed. "When I see men my age graduating, I feel like I'm burning in hell," she said. Shama described her grief as constant, triggered even by films depicting women working or studying. "I feel trapped," she admitted.
Nora, Shama's 18-year-old sister, fears the same fate. "I want to study, but it's like being in prison," she said. "The Taliban say schools will reopen 'soon,' but it's been four and a half years. We've been forgotten."
"If we hadn't been abandoned, something would have been done by now," Alia said. Kamila's plea to global mothers was stark: "Let your daughters study and become independent. Here in Afghanistan, it's over for us."
Enforcement and isolation
Beyond education, Taliban decrees restrict women's public presence, enforced variably but with pervasive fear. While Fitrat touted permits for female-run businesses, the reality is stark: women are nearly invisible in public life. The education ban, coupled with economic desperation, has fueled a rise in underage and forced marriages, according to women interviewed.
Alia remains defiant. "If my family doesn't force me, I'll resist marriage until my last breath," she vowed. But for millions of Afghan girls, resistance is a luxury few can afford.
