Photographer documents Afghanistan's child marriage crisis under Taliban rule

Young girls in Afghanistan are being sold by their families into marriage, representing severe exploitation and violation of children's rights.
This report destroyed me, she said plainly
Blanchard reflects on the emotional toll of documenting families selling daughters into marriage in Afghanistan.
Mark

So she spent seven years there. That's not a parachute journalist dropping in for two weeks. That changes what you see, doesn't it?

Mimi

Completely. She spoke the languages. She knew people. She wasn't translating through intermediaries or seeing things through a fixer's eyes alone. She was embedded in a way that most foreign journalists never are.

Luke

But we should be careful here—the source material doesn't actually detail what's in the photographs themselves. We know she documented families selling daughters into marriage, but we don't know the specifics of what she captured, how many families, which regions, what the conditions were.

Mimi

That's fair. The exhibition will show that. What we know is that she was there, she saw it, and it affected her deeply enough that she's being direct about the toll.

Mark

Why does that toll matter to the story? Why isn't it just about the practice itself?

Mimi

Because it tells you something about what it costs to bear witness to this kind of thing. She's not performing detachment. She's saying the work changed her.

Luke

But we should note—the source doesn't give us numbers. How many girls? How widespread is this practice? Is it a crisis affecting thousands or tens of thousands? We know it's happening, but the scale isn't specified.

Mark

And the Taliban connection—is this something they're actively enforcing, or is it a practice that's accelerated because of the economic collapse they've created?

Mimi

The source suggests it's the latter. The conditions they've created—poverty, instability—have made families more desperate. It's not a Taliban policy so much as a consequence of Taliban rule.

Luke

Right. And that distinction matters. We're not saying the Taliban is forcing families to do this. We're saying the collapse of the economy and social structures under their rule has made families more likely to resort to it.

Mark

So the photographs are documentation of desperation, not just cruelty.

Mimi

Yes. And that's what made it so hard for her to do.

  • Photojournalist Elise Blanchard, 34, spent seven years in Afghanistan from 2018 to 2025
  • She documented families forced to sell young daughters into marriage under Taliban rule
  • Her exhibition is displayed at Visa pour l'Image festival in Perpignan, France, August 29–September 13, 2026
  • Blanchard studied at Sciences Po Paris and Columbia University, and learned Pashto and Dari to report from conflict zones

Blanchard spent seven years in Afghanistan (2018-2025) documenting the practice of families selling daughters into marriage under Taliban rule. The photographer, who studied at Sciences Po Paris and Columbia University, learned Pashto and Dari to report from conflict zones and connect with Afghan communities.

Photojournalist Elise Blanchard exhibits photographs documenting families in Afghanistan forced to sell young daughters into marriage, displayed at Visa pour l'Image festival in Perpignan.

Elise Blanchard arrived in Perpignan this late summer carrying photographs that cost her something she is still measuring. The 34-year-old photojournalist had spent the spring of 2026 in Afghanistan documenting families who sold their daughters into marriage—a practice that has intensified under Taliban rule. Now, as the Visa pour l'Image festival opens its doors across southern France, her work hangs on the walls alongside exhibitions from photojournalists working in conflict zones worldwide. The festival, running from late August through mid-September, draws practitioners of the craft from across the globe. Blanchard's images are part of that conversation, though she speaks of the assignment in terms that suggest it extracted something from her. "This report destroyed me," she said plainly, without the protective distance that sometimes accompanies such statements.

Her path to Afghanistan was not the straight line of someone who simply decided to become a war photographer. As a student at Sciences Po Paris, Blanchard was assigned to report on refugee camps within France itself. What struck her was the density of Afghan faces, the number of people who had fled and carried their country with them in memory and longing. She listened to their stories, their attachment to a place they could no longer safely inhabit. The work shifted something in her. She began volunteering with unaccompanied minors, young people who had arrived in France alone. Some of them stayed in her apartment. She learned their languages—Pashto, and more fluently, Dari—not as an academic exercise but as a way to meet them where they were.

In 2017, she moved to New York to pursue a master's degree at Columbia University, continuing the same pattern of work and study intertwined. Again, she found herself among Afghan communities in exile, deepening her language skills and taking courses designed to prepare journalists for reporting in active conflict zones. By 2018, she was ready. She moved to Afghanistan itself and remained there for seven years, through the American withdrawal, through the Taliban's return to power, through the closing of possibilities that had briefly seemed to open. She documented the country as it changed, as restrictions tightened, as economic desperation deepened.

The assignment that brought her to Perpignan this year focused on a specific and devastating practice: families, faced with poverty and unable to feed their children, arranging marriages for their daughters to older men, sometimes much older men, in exchange for money or debt forgiveness. The girls involved are children. The transactions are economic. The consequences are permanent. Blanchard photographed these families, these girls, these arrangements. She was present for conversations about the sale of human beings who had no say in the matter.

What distinguishes her work from distant reporting is the seven years she spent in the country, the languages she spoke, the relationships she had built. She was not a stranger arriving to extract a story. She knew people. She understood context. She had watched the country transform. And that proximity, that knowledge, that understanding—it appears to have made the work harder, not easier. The distance that sometimes protects journalists from the full weight of what they witness was not available to her. She saw not abstractions but people she knew, in circumstances she understood deeply.

The Visa pour l'Image festival, which opened on August 29 and runs through September 13, will display her photographs alongside work from photojournalists documenting crises across the world. The exhibition brings international attention to a practice that has accelerated in Afghanistan since 2021, when the Taliban returned to power and economic conditions deteriorated sharply. Child marriage was not invented by the Taliban, but the conditions they have created—poverty, instability, the absence of alternatives—have made it more common, more visible, more desperate. Blanchard's photographs are evidence of that reality. They are also, by her own account, a record of what the work of witnessing such things does to the person who does it.

This report destroyed me
— Elise Blanchard, on the assignment documenting child marriage in Afghanistan
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