T he food market was a rare taste of former freedoms. But as two members of the “morality police” appeared from the crowd, terror and panic eclipsed all thoughts of groceries. Although we were dressed in modest clothing and headscarves, the men chastised us for failing to wear face masks – a shortcoming deemed “ bad hijab ” under their law.
Three years after the fall of Kabul to Taliban militants marked the collapse of western democracy across Afghanistan, these encounters are commonplace. Afghanistan is now the only country in the world that prevents girls from attending school after sixth grade. Women can no longer obtain driving licences and even require a male chaperone to move from province to province and around the city.
But while the liberties we once enjoyed continue to recede, the world’s attention has moved elsewhere. I am a female Afghan humanitarian aid worker, and I am confronted daily by the human toll of women’s struggle to reconcile their unbowed ambitions with a darkened and increasingly overlooked reality. And yet three years after the plight of Afghan women has faded from global headlines, humanitarian support is dictated not by voices within Afghanistan but by people who have fled the Taliban, living across the world, who encourage the international community to sever all ties with the Taliban government.
As someone who still lives and works here, I find this misguided: their interventions only harm the people who need help. I’ve lost coun.