The Taliban have imposed some of the world’s toughest restrictions on women and girls, yet to counter economic collapse and isolation, they have permitted women to establish businesses in Afghanistan, provided they adhere to a series of stringent regulations.
Over 10,000 Afghan women now hold business licenses, a tenfold rise in the last five years, according to the Afghanistan Chamber of Commerce and Industry. An additional 120,000 women work informally, making small enterprises the primary employers of Afghan women, per World Bank data.
Nevertheless, this apparent boom masks the narrowing opportunities available to women’s lives.
Women who once aspired to be lawyers, engineers, or university professors have shifted to carpet weaving, cosmetics, or vocational training, as they are barred from government employment and many nonprofit roles.
They are also prohibited from operating beauty salons, pursuing midwifery or nursing studies, or communicating directly with male clients, suppliers, or banking officials.
Most Afghan women remain unemployed — fewer than 7 % of women were employed in 2024, according to the U.N. Development Programme.
Women who are employed confront escalating obstacles; in June, harassment and arrests by the morality police sparked a rare public protest.
Nevertheless, as the Taliban approach the fifth anniversary of their takeover, Afghan women have embraced entrepreneurship as one of the few remaining avenues to support their families and maintain a semblance of social interaction.
“There is little hope for Afghan women other than business,” said Behnaz Saljughi, a representative for female business owners in Herat province.
Even before the Taliban arrived, I aspired to be an entrepreneur.
Nasira Azizi, aged 19
On a recent morning in a Mazar-i-Sharif warehouse in northern Afghanistan, about 60 women knotted, trimmed, and wove rugs under the supervision of their boss, 19‑year‑old Nasira Azizi.
Ms. Azizi was 14 when the Taliban regained power in 2021 and subsequently barred millions of girls from education beyond sixth grade. “I fell into depression,” she said of the education ban. “At home, I only see the same faces.”
The rug workshop broadened her horizons. “Here we can discuss many topics and stay motivated to complete the work,” she said.
Ms. Azizi launched her venture with financial support from the U.N. Development Programme, which included a grant to create jobs for Afghan women recently expelled from neighboring Iran and Pakistan.
She now employs roughly 450 workers across two workshops and from home.
Her two brothers manage design and marketing, while her father runs one workshop, where male staff clean the rugs before sale.
She handles the remaining management, human resources, and finances. “The business license is in my name,” she said.
‘We Need Larger Vats’
In 2022, she established Magnolia, a soap company in Herat — one of Afghanistan’s largest cities — that now supports her family of seven.
On a recent afternoon, the scent of turmeric drifted through Ms. Rezaei’s workshop as her mother stirred the simmering, viscous mixture destined for soap. Nearby, rows of saffron‑infused soap bars and dropper bottles containing black seed oil awaited distribution.
The operation remains rustic — two large stockpots with no automation — yet Ms. Rezaei aims to expand into Iran and Tajikistan, aspiring to transform her venture into an international brand by 2030. A devoted reader of psychology and management literature, she stands before a wall adorned with two dozen certificates and online diplomas.
“We need larger pots and some machines,” Ms. Rezaei said.
A Bee Queen Defies Regulations
“One positive aspect of the Taliban is that the government supports women’s businesses, even as we encounter ever‑increasing restrictions,” she said.
Ghoncha Karimi, 39.
The narratives of Afghan female entrepreneurs are filled with numerous caveats.
Ms. Rezaei cannot travel alone to Kabul to sell her soap; she requires a male companion. Ms. Azizi is unable to advertise the care and precision of her rug‑making to male clients.
They frequently rely on their husbands, fathers, or brothers to conduct business.
Alternatively, they defy Taliban restrictions.
In Herat, beekeeper Ghoncha Karimi, 39, sometimes dresses as a man when traveling to the city’s outskirts to tend her bees.
With her husband struggling to find day‑labor work, the honey Ms. Karimi harvests from her 50 beehives constitutes a major part of the family’s income, earning her the local title of Bee Queen of Afghanistan.
However, sales fell in 2023 after the Taliban ordered her to cease serving male clients in her shop.
She has lost her bees twice: first after the Taliban takeover, when many women stayed home out of fear, and again in 2023, when she spent 20 days in prison following a confrontation with a Taliban official over women’s restrictions.
‘I Am the Controller’
Afghan authorities say they promote vocational training for women and urge businesses to hire more women, provided they adhere to the nation’s principles, said Samiullah Ibrahimi, spokesman for the Afghan Ministry of Work and Social Affairs.
Critics, however, argue that these measures fall far short of what is needed.
When asked about women‑focused programs, Mr. Ibrahimi cited a “committee for economic empowerment” that he said had created jobs for 26 women this year, in a nation of roughly 45 million people.
“Our mothers taught us that hard work would lead to a better, more peaceful future,” said Fariba Noori, acting head of Afghanistan’s Women’s Chamber of Commerce and Industry. “Our future has not become better or more peaceful. Now we tell our children the same, yet I doubt it will come true.”
Families and conservative values remain constant obstacles.
Waheeda Noorzai, 41, said she endured years of domestic abuse from her husband due to her professional ambitions. Although she holds a master’s degree, she says her husband is illiterate.
“But after fighting, I became the queen of my family,” she said. “Now all the girls in my family attend school, and my brothers say, ‘My daughter should be like you.’”
Ms. Noorzai now oversees two dozen female employees with hearing impairments at the Norwegian Afghanistan Committee, a nonprofit dedicated to health care access and economic inclusion.
She says her husband follows her guidance in educating their two daughters.
Ms. Rezaei launched Magnolia soap during a period of severe financial strain for her family. Her father, Cheraghali Rezaei, had previously led several businesses to bankruptcy, he said.
“I oversee marketing, which I consider paramount. If she were a television, I would be the controller shaping the channel I desire,” he said.
Cheraghali Rezaei’s remarks on his daughter Roqia Rezaei
With restrictions mounting, some female entrepreneurs say the risks of doing business have become prohibitively high.
Ms. Karimi, the beekeeper, was imprisoned when her daughter was seven; upon her release, the girl asked, “Mommy, are you really free, or am I dreaming?”
After that episode, Ms. Karimi said, “I resolved that even if the Taliban strikes me on the head, I will never raise my head again.”
Reporting by Yaqoob Akbary, Kiana Hayeri, and Safiullah Padshah.
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