The first series of Her Afghanistan: When Words Become Walls examined what individuals say to Afghan women online. This series asks, who made those words acceptable to say? Each week, one entry will read one Taliban decree closely.
Let’s begin with a decree that speaks most directly to this journal’s subject. On 21 August 2024, the Taliban’s Ministry of Justice published the Law on the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice. Among many other rules, it declared that a woman’s voice outside her home must be hidden. A journal about words becoming walls could not start anywhere else.
Ok so what is this s****y decree abt?
The law runs to 35 articles and was approved by the Taliban’s supreme leader, Hibatullah Akhundzada. It was the first formal vice and virtue code since the Taliban returned to power in 2021, and it turned many existing rules into written law. It covers dress, travel, media, music, prayer, and celebrations for the whole population. Its heaviest provisions fall on women, of course, their favorite target:
Article 13 classifies a woman’s voice as awrah, a part of the body that must be covered. A woman who leaves home “for a necessary reason” must conceal her voice, face, and body.
Other articles:
- Article 17 tells inspectors to keep media free of content that contradicts Sharia or shows images of living beings.
- Article 20 directs drivers not to carry women travelling without a male guardian, or mahram.
The wording was vague enough that even officials disagreed on its meaning. In October 2024, a deputy minister said women could still speak when necessary, such as while shopping. Days later, the ministry said the ban applied only to reciting the Quran and singing loudly. That vagueness is far from coincidence, and it is indeed working well to keep women under control.
I see, how is it enforced then?
The UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) reviewed the law’s first seven months in an April 2025 report. It found roughly 3,300 inspectors deployed across 28 of the country’s 34 provinces, nearly all of them men. Female inspectors were working in only one provincial capital. Provincial committees, usually chaired by the governor, were coordinating enforcement in at least 28 provinces.
This decree had physical impact on women. In UN surveys, the share of women reporting restrictions on public space rose from 38% to 76%. Reports of enforced “proper hijab” rose from 13% to 70%. Drivers refused to carry unaccompanied women, sometimes on the way to clinics, and some hospitals turned away female staff or patients who arrived without a male guardian.
Enforcement has not eased since. In June 2026, residents of Herat told AFP that morality police were detaining women in the street for not wearing a chador or burqa. Local media counted at least 21 women and girls detained in a single week, and UNAMA said it was “concerned over multiple arrests.” The ministry’s response was brief: “There is nothing unusual in Herat.”
My gosh, is anyone speaking up?
The Afghan women responded to this oppression within days. Women inside and outside the country posted videos of themselves singing under hashtags such as “My voice is not forbidden” and “No to Taliban.” Zala Zazai, a former police officer living in Poland, sang a song by Aryana Sayeed about Afghan women’s resilience. Other activists raised their fists on camera or tore up photographs of the supreme leader.
What Comes Next
The Vice and Virtue Law is the right place to begin because it reveals the thinking behind everything going on. Many of the restrictions imposed before and after it come back to the same belief: that women being visible, heard, and present in public is somehow a threat to society.
Next week, let’s take a look at the decrees that barred the girls from education.
Until Afghanistan is Hers Again,
Her Afghanistan: When Words Become Walls
Sienna Park
siennapark503@gmail.com
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