Five years after the Taliban's swift return to Kabul, what has unfolded is not merely a change in government but a methodical erasure of women's place in public life — each restriction building upon the last, narrowing the space in which Afghan women and girls are permitted to exist. From the closure of schools to the codification of child marriage, the Taliban has moved with a speed and comprehensiveness that even their first reign did not achieve. Millions of women now live within a legal architecture designed to silence, confine, and erase them — and many risk reprisal simply for speaking a
Afghan women detail five years of Taliban restrictions in rare interviews
Each door closing after the last
Why does the timeline matter? Why lay it out like that, one restriction after another?
Because it shows you something a single policy wouldn't. It's not chaos—it's deliberate. Each restriction builds on the last. They're not random. They're architectural.
But the Taliban took power five years ago. Why did it take time to implement all of this?
Control isn't instant, even for an authoritarian government. You have to consolidate. You have to see what works, what the population will tolerate. The restrictions accelerated as they felt more secure.
The law about child marriage—treating silence as consent. That's not just restricting women. That's redefining what consent means.
Exactly. It's not just taking away freedoms. It's rewriting the legal framework so that the absence of resistance becomes agreement. It's a different kind of power.
Why would the BBC focus on women refusing to use their names?
Because it tells you something crucial: these women are not just restricted by law. They're afraid. They're afraid of the Taliban, afraid of their own communities. The restrictions have created an environment where telling your story is dangerous.
Is there any indication of what comes next?
The pattern suggests they'll keep going. There's no sign of them stopping or reversing course. The question is whether international pressure or internal resistance will change anything. Right now, the trajectory is only in one direction.
O Pulso
- The Taliban has enacted over a dozen major restrictions in five years, moving from education bans to controlling women's voices, bodies, and now their legal right to refuse marriage.
- Child marriage has been effectively legalized through a new law treating a minor girl's silence as consent — a codification of harm that has alarmed international observers and humanitarian organizations.
- Women have been cut off from healthcare training, NGO employment, and even access to UN premises, dismantling the last professional lifelines many had managed to hold onto.
- Across Afghanistan, women from all walks of life are hiding their identities to speak about their own lives, a measure of how completely fear has been woven into daily existence.
- International pressure has so far failed to reverse or meaningfully slow the Taliban's gender policies, leaving millions of Afghan women with shrinking options and no clear path to relief.
Five years after the Taliban's swift return to Kabul, what has unfolded is not merely a change in government but a methodical erasure of women's place in public life — each restriction building upon the last, narrowing the space in which Afghan women and girls are permitted to exist. From the closure of schools to the codification of child marriage, the Taliban has moved with a speed and comprehensiveness that even their first reign did not achieve. Millions of women now live within a legal architecture designed to silence, confine, and erase them — and many risk reprisal simply for speaking about it.
Five years ago this month, the Taliban swept back into Kabul with a speed that stunned the world — foreign militaries, Afghan officials, and ordinary citizens alike. Within weeks, they had consolidated control across the entire country, surpassing even the reach of their brutal first reign in the 1990s. What followed was not a settling-in period. It was a systematic campaign to dismantle the freedoms of women and girls, restriction by restriction, each one closing another door.
The campaign began with education. Boys returned to school in September 2021; girls did not. By late 2022, universities were closed to women entirely. Then came the body and the public sphere — full covering orders, bans from parks, gyms, and swimming pools, the shuttering of beauty salons, and eventually a law making it illegal for women to raise their voices in public. The restrictions moved in waves, each one narrowing the territory where women could exist.
The professional world followed. Women were barred from midwife and nursing training, then from working for any non-governmental organization — eliminating two of the last remaining avenues of employment. Afghan women were banned from visiting UN premises. And in May 2026, a law effectively legalized child marriage by treating a minor girl's silence as consent.
The BBC spoke with women across Afghanistan — jewellery makers, students, former journalists, from Kabul to the countryside — to document what these five years have meant. Most refused to use their real names, fearing reprisal. What emerged from their accounts is not a single story but a landscape of compounding loss: restrictions that do not exist in isolation but intersect and reinforce one another, building a legal system in which women's agency, mobility, and future have been methodically taken away.
Five years ago this month, the Taliban rolled into Kabul and took control of a country they had not fully held since 2001. The speed of their advance shocked everyone—foreign militaries, Afghan government officials, ordinary people watching from their homes. Within weeks, they had consolidated power across all of Afghanistan, something they had failed to do even during their first brutal reign in the 1990s. What followed was not a pause or a settling-in period. It was a systematic, escalating campaign to strip away the freedoms of women and girls, documented in a timeline of restrictions that reads like a narrowing corridor, each door closing after the last.
The restrictions began with education. In September 2021, schools reopened for boys. Girls were not invited back. By December 2022, universities were closed to women entirely. But the Taliban did not stop there. They moved into the realm of the body and the public sphere. In May 2022, women were ordered to cover themselves completely—head to toe, with only the eyes visible. By November that year, women were barred from parks, gyms, swimming pools, and public baths. In July 2023, beauty salons were shut down. In August 2024, a new law was enacted that made it illegal for women to raise their voices in public. The restrictions kept coming, each one narrowing the space where women could exist.
The economic and professional dimensions followed. In December 2024, women were banned from midwife and nursing training—cutting them off from healthcare professions. That same month, the Taliban issued a blanket ban on all non-governmental organizations from employing Afghan women, eliminating a major source of work for those who had managed to find employment outside the home. In September 2025, Afghan women were banned from visiting UN headquarters. And in May 2026, a law was codified that effectively legalized child marriage by treating the silence of a minor girl as consent to marriage.
The Taliban emerged in the early 1990s in northern Pakistan, born from the chaos following the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan. They first seized power in 1996, ruling until a US-led military coalition removed them in 2001. Twenty years of war followed—tens of thousands killed, millions displaced—before the group returned to power in August 2021. The ideology that drove them then drives them now: an austere interpretation of Islamic law known as Sharia, enforced through a strict moral code that has historically included public executions of those convicted of murder and adultery.
The BBC began reaching out to women across Afghanistan to document what these five years have meant. They spoke to jewellery makers, students, former journalists—women from Kabul to the countryside, all ages, all walks of life. All of them have lived under these restrictions. All of them have watched their world contract. Many refused to use their real names, fearing reprisals from the Taliban or from their own communities. The restrictions have made it dangerous to tell their stories at all.
What emerges from these conversations is not a single narrative but a landscape of loss. Girls over twelve cannot attend school. Women cannot travel long distances without a male relative accompanying them. They cannot work for NGOs. They cannot train to be nurses or midwives. They cannot visit the United Nations. They cannot speak loudly in public. And now, under the new marriage law, girls can be married off with their silence treated as permission. The restrictions do not exist in isolation—they compound, they intersect, they create a system in which women's agency, mobility, and future have been systematically dismantled by law.
Citações Notáveis
The restrictions impact almost every part of their lives, and make it difficult to tell their stories.— BBC reporting on Afghan women's circumstances