Since the Taliban’s return to power in August 2021, Afghanistan has undergone a sweeping transformation of its public sphere, one that has systematically removed women from nearly every visible and participatory aspect of society. In a country once inching toward gender inclusion, women are now facing a state-imposed invisibility marked by the loss of rights to education, employment, mobility, and voice.
Many human rights activists and organizations have warned that the regime’s systematic exclusion of women from public life constitutes not just repression but gender apartheid. Unlike previous crackdowns on women’s rights in Afghanistan, this era of Taliban rule has introduced multilayered, institutionalized segregation that reaches far beyond bans on education or employment.
While international discourse often focuses on visible flashpoints—such as school closures, dress codes, and job restrictions—the reality is more complex. In a country where women have historically had limited access to public life, especially in rural areas, the Taliban’s gender policies have radically deepened existing inequalities. In cities like Kabul, Balkh, Herat, Parwan, and Bamyan, where women once worked, studied, and participated in civic spaces, the erasure is more visibly dramatic. In rural communities, where access to education and mobility was already constrained, the consequences are even more isolating and enduring.
Educational institutions have been restructured to support the Taliban’s ideological goals. Curricula have been revised to exclude subjects such as music, art, philosophy, and civic education. Public libraries have closed or removed literature deemed “un-Islamic,” including writings by women authors.
The Taliban’s restrictions also extend into the symbolic and visual domains of public life. Billboards and murals depicting women have been removed or defaced across major cities. In retail environments, mannequins are either headless or fully veiled. Female faces have largely disappeared from television broadcasts, and many female anchors have been fired or forced into retirement. This visual erasure is a cultural signal, reinforcing the regime’s ideological messaging that women do not belong in the public eye.
Reshaping communicative culture
The systematic exclusion of women from Afghanistan’s public sphere is not only a human rights crisis. It is a structural transformation with profound and enduring consequences for Afghanistan society. The Taliban’s gender apartheid reshapes Afghanistan’s public sphere, strips women of visibility, and reinforces deeply patriarchal norms. It is not just a policy; it is a structural transformation of society.
Over time, this enforced separation corrodes the very foundation of social cohesion: communication, empathy, and mutual understanding.
This transformation is not merely a regression, but a wholesale erasure of female presence in public life, ideologically driven and institutionally enforced. From classrooms to billboards, courtrooms to media, the exclusion is near total. The segregation of men and women from shared spaces and discourse is altering the very way people communicate, relate, and coexist.
In a country where women have historically had limited access to public spaces, the current regime’s gender apartheid reinforces and deepens that marginalization. What is unfolding is not a temporary setback, but a long-term societal shift that will reshape how people live, relate to, and communicate with one another for generations.
By banning women from schools, workplaces, cultural spaces, and even basic public visibility, the Taliban are not merely silencing half the population; they are engineering a society in which men and women no longer share common civic or intellectual ground. As a consequence, boys and girls grow up in segregated environments, unable to learn, speak, or cooperate across gender lines. Over time, this enforced separation corrodes the very foundation of social cohesion: communication, empathy, and mutual understanding.
This segregation will likely produce a communication culture that is rigid, distrustful, and limited in scope. When men and women are raised in parallel but disconnected realities, entire realms of expression, dialogue, and negotiation are lost. Gendered roles become more entrenched, stereotypes harden, and a shared identity weakens. Everyday interactions—whether in families, communities, or public discourse—will become sites of confusion or conflict rather than collaboration and understanding.
This segregation will likely produce a communication culture that is rigid, distrustful, and limited in scope.
The effects will not be confined to women alone. Boys raised in environments without the presence, intellect, or leadership of women may internalize dominance and entitlement. In contrast, girls denied public engagement lose the opportunity to develop the skills, confidence, and networks necessary for civic participation.
Afghanistan is thus not only losing its women from the public sphere—it is losing its capacity for dialogue, understanding, and unified national development. This model of segregated existence threatens to become normalized, making reintegration not only a political or legal challenge but also a psychological and cultural one.
In the face of this, the quiet resistance of women is not simply courageous—it is essential. It preserves the idea that a connected, inclusive, communicative society is still possible. Unless that possibility is protected and eventually restored, Afghanistan risks becoming a society permanently divided—not just by gender, but by a fundamental inability to speak, live, and grow together.
The resistance
Political philosopher Nancy Fraser once wrote that when the public sphere becomes exclusionary, “subaltern counterpublics” emerge — spaces carved out by those pushed to the margins. Afghanistan’s women have done precisely this. They have turned the tools of their oppression, such as silence, invisibility, and surveillance, into weapons of endurance.
Despite strict enforcement, women continue to resist. In many cities, underground schools often run by former female teachers have emerged in basements and hidden rooms. These schools teach banned subjects, frequently using printed materials and digital resources shared via encrypted apps like WhatsApp and Telegram.
Social media platforms such as Instagram, X (formerly Twitter), and Facebook have also become subtle tools of resistance. Women share symbolic content such as poems, coded messages, or muted protest art that expresses dissent in ways designed to evade detection.
Afghanistan’s public sphere remains fractured and dim, reflecting only a narrow vision of society. But beneath the surface, an alternative narrative continues to be written in resistance by those who refuse to disappear.
Afghanistan’s current public sphere is a cracked mirror, reflecting only a fragment of its soul. But beyond the mirror’s edge lies another world—secret, resilient, and female. A world built not on control, but connection.
