The grocery store offered a rare taste of former freedoms. But when two members of the “morality police” emerged from the crowd, terror and panic pushed aside any thoughts of grocery shopping. Although we dressed modestly and wore headscarves, the men reprimanded us for not wearing face masks – an omission that is considered “bad hijab” under their law. Three years after the fall of Kabul to Taliban fighters, which marked the collapse of Western democracy across Afghanistan, such encounters are commonplace.

Afghanistan is now the only country in the world where girls are not allowed to go to school after sixth grade. Women can no longer get a driver’s license and even need a male companion to move between provinces and within cities. But as the freedoms we once enjoyed continue to dwindle, the world’s attention is turning elsewhere. I am an Afghan humanitarian and am confronted daily with the human toll of women’s struggle to reconcile their indomitable ambitions with a grim and increasingly overlooked reality.

And yet, three years after the fate of Afghan women disappeared from the headlines, humanitarian aid is being dictated not by voices from Afghanistan itself, but by people who fled the Taliban and live all over the world. They are calling on the international community to cut all ties with the Taliban government. As someone who still lives and works here, I think this is wrong: their interventions only harm the people who need help. I have lost track of the number of aid workers I know who have lost their jobs due to funding cuts – and my own work helping women here is suffering as a result.

Covering the face is just one of over 50 restrictions the Taliban have imposed on women since they came to power in 2021. From one day to the next, new laws are announced and our nightmares become reality. The ban on women going to work was further tightened last month when it was announced that the salaries of female government employees who had to stay at home would be cut from around Rs 50,000 to just Rs 5,000. Denied an income, many are worried about how they will feed their families or meet basic needs like food and fuel. The normalcy we clung to at the clandestinely operating gyms and beauty salons has also disappeared in recent months as growing pressure from the ministry to spread virtue and prevent vice forces their closure.

In this climate of relentless restrictions, there are no guarantees. Women are confined to their homes and face constant fear and speculation about possible new restrictions. This aggression against our freedoms has left Afghanistan unrecognisable, but its impact on women’s mental health is even more worrying. I support between 40 and 70 women a week: around 80% of them have mental health problems.

These manifest themselves in different ways. Some of the people I help worry about material things like financing medical treatment or a child’s funeral. Others are so bad that they They are unable to perceive their surroundings and simply laugh hysterically. Many others are not even willing to admit that they have problems.

Without the financial means or the time, I can only refer them to other places and offer them temporary help, such as a coat, a carton of juice or a biscuit. After several appointments, the women realize that the offer of help is a dead end – Your frustration and hopelessness echo my own. Not only do we live in a climate where our government is stripping us of our rights, but the organizations on the ground that could help are increasingly limited in their ability to do so.

As aid budgets shrink, humanitarian workers and resources are stretched even further, and the penalty falls particularly on women who are already suffering persecution. The international community must instead give us the power to help the millions of Afghan women still living in the country, keeping politics and humanitarian aid separate. Here at home, we are fighting to be heard.

Afghan women are resilient and strong in their belief in a better future. We remain determined to stand our ground and take what little space we have left in our country. The hard-won successes of women before us were the result of that belief. We are ready to stand for it again.

• The author has been working for humanitarian organizations in Afghanistan since the Taliban took power, supporting thousands of Afghan women and listening to their experiences. For security reasons, she remains anonymous

Narrated by Elysia Taylor-Hearn