On a busy road in Kabul, two women in blue burqas briefly glance up at the messy silhouette of a woman on an advertising hoarding, which has been spray-painted black to conceal her face and body shape, before hurrying past the wooden boards hastily nailed over the windows and doors.
The once-busy salon used to be full of women laughing and sharing gossip while getting their hair and nails done. Now all that remains is a silent, empty shell. The last salons closed their doors this week.
Since the Taliban seized power in August 2021, women in Afghanistan have faced systematic erosion of their human rights, including access to education past primary school and health care.
In another blow to women’s rights, the Taliban have now cracked down on beauty salons, one of the last public places women could go freely. It's a move which has been seen as a way of further dehumanising women by taking away their sense of identity and bodily autonomy.
The ban on beauty salons was imposed in July by the country’s Ministry for the Prevention of Vice and Propagation of Virtue, claiming that some beauty treatments were ‘unislamic’ and salons were given until this week to shut up shop or face harsh punishments.
When the ban was announced, in unprecedented scenes, crowds of burka-clad women, facing the loss of their livelihoods, took to the streets chanting "Work, food, freedom" and “Don't take my bread and water” but were forced down by security forces using hoses and tear gas.
As one of the main female-led industries, beauty salons are one of the main employers of women, and more than 60,000 women are likely to lose their jobs, according to Human Rights Watch. Many of these women are the main breadwinners in their families and are facing destitution.
“The salon was like a second home and was always full of women of all ages, laughing and gossiping.”
“I was married at 14, and my husband was much older than me. He had health problems and couldn’t work,” said Fariha*.
“My friend’s mother ran a beauty salon. She knew my situation and gave me a job; otherwise, me and my children would have starved.
“She trained me so I could do facials and make-up. After my husband died, I saved my money and sold my jewellery and everything of value and opened a small salon.
“I loved my job. I loved talking to my clients and making them beautiful. My favourite thing was getting brides ready. We would advise girls on their marriage and their wedding night,” she giggles.
“The salon was like a second home and was always full of women of all ages, laughing and gossiping. A lot of women would stay after they got their treatments done, just to talk. In a place like Afghanistan, women need other women otherwise we cannot live.”
“I will continue doing treatments at home secretly, but only for a small number of people I trust. I gave some of my long-term clients my number because they are like friends. But it is a huge risk, so I don’t know how long I can do it for.”
In the grand scheme of things, such as the ban on education and travel, not being able to go to get your nails done may not sound like a big deal. However, the closing of beauty salons is about more than getting your legs waxed. For many women, a trip to the salon was a rare taste of freedom.
Beauty salons were one of the few safe, female-only spaces where Afghan women could go without a male chaperone, take off their veils and socialise with other women. For many women, the closure is the final nail in the coffin for their economic and social freedom.
“The Taliban have turned Afghanistan into an open prison for women.”
“When I went into the salon, it was like stepping into another world, and you felt you were not in Kabul. It was like a peaceful place where we could finally breathe and be ourselves,” said Mur Sal, 28, who was an art student before the Taliban took over.
“It was a place of comfort and camaraderie. Women often talked and shared information. It was a time for socialising. What I miss the most is the sense of community and the feeling of being in a safe space to share and hear others' experiences.
“In many ways, the salon felt like one of the few places where women could converse privately and freely without the watchful eyes of society. It was our sanctuary of expression. We had their freedom there. We didn’t have fear of people or relatives.”
During lockdown, we all remember how much it impacted us when we couldn’t get our hair done, popping to Boots for a box of dye while we attempted to redo our roots at home and trimming our layers in the bathroom mirror, and how much it affected our self-esteem. For women struggling to get on with their lives under such difficult circumstances, when they have lost everything else, it's the everyday things that often hit the hardest.
“When I got married, my husband used to say he didn’t like me and wanted to marry someone beautiful. I tried my best to please him and used to maintain myself at the salon,” said Ekta, 29, from Kabul.
“After I had a child, I gained weight. My husband said I was ugly. He recently remarried a girl who is in her teens. She is young and beautiful. I don’t feel good because I haven’t been allowed to cut my hair or shave my body. I have dark facial hair, which I pull out regularly. It’s scarred my face.”
As women are being pushed out of the public sphere, human rights activists fear that as Afghan women are pushed out of sight, they will be pushed out of mind. No wonder they're calling for the international community to do more.
“That is how Afghan women feel our lives are now. Our mouths are silenced as the world is turning a blind eye.”
“For many young women, they didn’t experience the Taliban’s rule in the ‘90s, so it’s a total shock. They are a generation that grew up in a free Afghanistan where equal rights were protected under our constitution,” said Horia Mosadiq, director of the Conflict Analysis Network.
“The Taliban have turned Afghanistan into an open prison for women. They are living in a gender apartheid regime, and their fundamental rights are violated systematically, such as the right to education, health, employment and political participation,
“The world is continuing to engage and compromise with the Taliban through soft diplomacy. This isn’t working, and the Taliban are not showing any signs of relaxing their draconian rules and ending gender apartheid; on the contrary, the more flexibility the world shows to the Taliban, the more vicious they are becoming towards women.”
Fariha shows me a photo of her once-thriving salon. Outside is an advertising hoarding where a woman’s eyes and mouth have been covered with gaffer tape. “That is how Afghan women feel our lives are now,” she sighs. “Our mouths are silenced as the world is turning a blind eye.”
*Names have been changed.
It's been two years since the Taliban regained control of Afghanistan.
