In December 2022, when the Taliban banned women from universities, Shafiqa’s world unraveled. A second-semester education student in northern Faryab province, she spent the months that followed in a quiet corner of her home, watching as her books collected dust.
Hope, however, has a stubborn way of finding cracks in the darkest places. With support from her brother-in-law, Shafiqa enrolled in a midwifery program at a private medical institute in Mazar-e-Sharif, clinging to the belief that education, even in fragments, could still shape her future.
“My brother-in-law took care of everything—my fees, uniforms, supplies. He told me, ‘You’ll bring light to women who have no one,’” Shafiqa recalls, her voice soft with gratitude but heavy with grief.
For a while, her dream of becoming a midwife seemed within reach. But earlier this month, the Taliban shattered that fragile hope after ordering medical training institutes in Afghanistan to stop accepting female students. The ban, which targeted classes in nursing, midwifery, medical laboratory science, and dental assistance, swept away what little opportunity remained.
“All my dreams collapsed,” Shafiqa says, fighting tears. “I’m back to sitting at home, surrounded by silence.”
Her mother’s voice quivers as she describes her daughter’s transformation: “After the universities closed, she was sad but determined. The institute gave her purpose again. Now, she hardly speaks, hardly eats. This time, the wound is deeper.”
Shafiqa’s story resonates across Afghanistan—a repeated tale of dreams shattered and voices silenced. Since their return to power, the Taliban has systematically dismantled women’s rights, issuing over 100 edicts that strip women and girls of their fundamental freedoms and opportunities, effectively excluding them from public life.
When the Taliban banned girls from secondary schools in 2021 and later closed universities to women, many turned to medical training institutes as their last refuge.
But the latest decree has crushed even that hope. Health officials who spoke with KabulNow report that at least 10,000 women in Balkh province alone were enrolled in government and private medical institutes. Among them, 1,200 attended the state-run medical institute, while private institutions enrolled between 500 and 1,000 female students each.
Sonia, a fourth-semester midwifery student in Mazar-e-Sharif, was months away from graduating when the Taliban’s decree came down. “I was forced to accept the mandatory dress codes and Taliban-imposed restrictions on female students, but they still wouldn’t stop their hostility toward women,” she lamented.
Sonia had a vision to serve her country. “I wanted to become a midwife, go to the most remote areas of the country, and save women’s lives,” she said. “But now, this dream will die with me.”
She implored the authorities: “At the very least, let us pursue medical education.”
Even before this latest ban, the Taliban had imposed crippling restrictions on female healthcare professionals. Female doctors were barred from postgraduate training programs, while medical graduates were blocked from taking a mandatory exam required to practice. Male doctors faced restrictions treating female patients, further severing women’s access to life-saving care.
The implications of these policies go far beyond individual heartbreak, endangering the survival of Afghanistan’s already fragile healthcare system.
The country suffers from one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world. According to the UN Population Fund (UNFPA), a woman dies from childbirth complications every two hours. For every 100,000 live births, 638 women lose their lives—among the highest rates globally. Behind these staggering statistics are mothers bleeding to death on makeshift beds and newborns struggling to breathe in clinics lacking trained staff to save them.
Midwives and female healthcare workers are the backbone of maternal and child health in Afghanistan. In deeply conservative regions, where women refuse to be treated by male doctors, female midwives are often the only bridge between life and death. Now, with the Taliban’s ban, the shortage of female medical professionals will deepen an already catastrophic humanitarian crisis.
Dr. Basira (a pseudonym), one of the few practicing female doctors in northern Afghanistan, fears the long-term impact. “The Taliban are destroying an entire generation of female healthcare workers. In five years, there will be no midwives, no female doctors. Who will save our mothers? Who will deliver our babies?”
The Taliban’s war on women does not stop at the classroom door. It tears through families, villages, and entire communities. Girls who dreamed of lifting their families out of poverty through education are now locked inside their homes. Women who aspired to serve their country are being denied even the most basic agency.
Anisa, once a third-semester law student at Balkh University, turned to a midwifery course as a last resort after the university ban. She was weeks away from completing her training when the decree arrived.
“I remember waking up that morning. I checked my phone, and the news was everywhere. I thought it was a lie because, for once, the Taliban had allowed something,” she says bitterly. “But it wasn’t a lie. That day, I wished I hadn’t woken up at all.”
Her words highlight the pervasive hopelessness now gripping women in Afghanistan. For years, education symbolized resilience and resistance. Girls studied in secret during the Taliban’s first regime in the 1990s and returned to classrooms in the thousands after 2001, eager to reclaim their place in society. Today, the Taliban’s systematic erasure of women from public life leaves little or no room for resistance.
The international community has issued condemnations, but Anisa says words alone cannot mend the broken lives or empty clinics of Afghanistan.
UN Secretary-General spokesperson Stéphane Dujarric warned that the Taliban’s decision will have a “devastating impact” on Afghanistan’s healthcare system and its development.
Rights groups like the Amnesty International also condemned the decree as “preposterous,” emphasizing its disastrous implications for a country already grappling with high maternal mortality rates. Human Rights Watch similarly decried the ban, warning that women will endure “unnecessary pain, misery, sickness, and death” without female doctors and midwives.
The Taliban’s latest decree extinguishes the last glimmer of hope for women pursuing education. As one door after another closes, Afghanistan’s women face an uncertain future in silence, their dreams buried under the weight of systemic oppression.
“The Taliban’s war on women is unfolding in real-time, yet the international community risks growing numb to its horrors,” Sonia says. “This ban—like the many that came before it—is not just an Afghanistan issue. It is a moral crisis that demands immediate global attention.”
