Afghanistan Peace Campaign
In one corner of the world, the “TradWife” trend on social media promotes a return to 1950s gender roles and patriarchal social structures. Advocates generally support the idea of the husband acting as the sole breadwinner while the wife manages the household and raises children.
In another corner of the world, women live under gender apartheid — a system in which their presence in public life is treated as a violation. They face public punishment, severe restrictions on their freedoms, and compulsory dress codes that conceal nearly every aspect of their appearance. Yet these Taliban-imposed policies should not be conflated with Islam itself, as the burqa is not a universally mandated requirement of the faith.
Under Taliban rule, however, women are deprived of that choice and compelled to conform, stripping them of personal agency, access to formal education past the primary level, healthcare, humanitarian assistance and much more.
The Taliban regime has transformed courts and state institutions into tools for enforcing decrees that intensify the persecution of women. For instance, Decree 12 legitimizes domestic violence, while Decree 18 allows for child marriage. Women are tyrannized, and nearly three in four Afghans cannot meet their basic needs. Meanwhile, 35% of children under five suffer from stunting.
Nonetheless, the European Union still manages to invite Taliban representatives to Brussels for discussions on migration and the deportation of Afghan nationals. While gender apartheid was not once the topic of such meetings, diplomacy appears to be moving forward regardless.
Where is the coordinated campaign to hold Taliban representatives accountable? This effort should rest on four principles.
First, we must acknowledge the role global powers have played in Afghanistan’s instability. The country became a battlefield for a proxy war. The Mujahideen were armed during the Soviet occupation and called freedom fighters. Neighboring states have long exerted influence.
Our world is globalized, and arguments such as “it’s their country, leave it up to them” are a logical fallacy. This is a global issue, not only because of human rights concerns but because of our collective role in shaping Afghanistan’s present reality.
Secondly, the withdrawal of the United States after 20 years in Afghanistan was viewed by many as the successful conclusion of a war. Yet when I see Afghan women stripped of their most basic freedoms, I struggle to describe the outcome as a success. While another military deployment is unrealistic and not desired, withdrawal should not mean abandonment.
We must not overlook that the Taliban’s pursuit of international legitimacy gives major powers leverage. Because it seeks to escape political isolation and access the global financial system, engagement should be conditioned on meaningful improvements in women’s and children’s rights.
Whenever the European Union engages with the Taliban, it should ensure that the concerns of Afghan women and children are represented. Nations must use diplomacy as leverage rather than complicity. Although coordination can be difficult, a unified approach would be far harder for the Taliban to ignore.
Lastly, history suggests that authoritarian regimes can fall through mass uprisings. Therefore, we must leave open the possibility that Afghanistan’s people may one day overturn the Taliban’s illegitimate regime. Will an ethnically, regionally and politically diverse population be able to unite? Will the international or regional community support? And at what human cost?
Perhaps the lesson we should draw from this contrast is not that women in the West and women in Afghanistan face the same reality — they do not. Yet both raise the same question: who gets to decide what a woman should be?
In Afghanistan, that decision is imposed by the state. In the West, it is often shaped by social expectations. These are not the same struggles, but they speak to the same human need: the desire to choose one’s own path.
In my opinion, the goal is neither a return to the 1950s nor the acceptance of a future in which every woman must pursue the same version of success.
The measure of a free society is not whether women choose tradition over modernity, careers over family, or public life over private life, but whether they are free to discover who they are before the world decides who they ought to be.
Shaya Mariji is a student at Rollins College, working toward a political science major and philosophy minor.