In Kabul, Afghan women's mental health facilities like Qala struggle under increasing patient loads amid societal stigma, Taliban restrictions, and financial dependency on male guardians. Patients, like Mariam and Habiba, often remain confined due to inadequate support systems and cultural barriers, reflecting a larger crisis in Afghanistan's approach to women's healthcare.
Trapped in Silence: Afghan Women Confront Mental Health Challenges
Trapped in Silence: Afghan Women Confront Mental Health Challenges
Inside Kabul's mental health facilities, women like Mariam and Habiba face compounded challenges of domestic abuse and systemic oppression, revealing an urgent need for reform.
High on a hill in Kabul, behind a steel gate topped with barbed wire, lies a mental health facility known by locals as Qala, or "the fortress." This center, operated by the Afghan Red Crescent Society (ARCS), is one of the few in the country dedicated to women suffering from mental illnesses. Recently, the BBC gained exclusive access to the crowded facility, currently hosting 104 women, many of whom are victims of domestic violence, systemic neglect, and cultural restrictions on their independence.
Among the patients is Mariam, a woman in her mid-20s who has called Qala home for the past nine years after escaping a cycle of familial abuse and homelessness. Her situation is dire; although she longs to marry and leave the facility, she has nowhere to return, trapped by her family's refusal to accept her back. "My brothers used to beat me whenever I visited a neighbour's house," she recalls, highlighting the oppressive cultural beliefs that hampered her freedom.
Similarly, Habiba, a 28-year-old mother, finds herself in a comparable predicament after being abandoned by her husband for remarrying. Separated from her children, she wishes to reclaim her life but feels the weight of her circumstances bearing down, with no familial support to help her reintegrate into society.
The mental health crisis in Afghanistan affects countless women like Mariam and Habiba. According to psychotherapist Saleema Halib, some patients have resided in the facility for decades due to being completely abandoned by their families. These stark realities are exacerbated by a restrictive regime; the Taliban's policies severely limit women's rights and freedoms, enforcing a dependence on male guardians for travel and healthcare access.
Despite a façade of commitment from Taliban authorities to women's rights, UN reports underscore an alarming deterioration in Afghan women's mental health. In a recent survey, 68% of women reported "bad" or "very bad" mental health. The stigma surrounding mental health issues further complicates access to treatment, making it risky and difficult for women to seek help.
As the facility faces overcrowding—with patients often languishing for years—some families struggle to admit their loved ones to Qala due to a lack of available beds. Such is the case for Zainab, a 16-year-old who had been confined in her home with shackles until her family managed to secure her a spot. Her father contends that restraint was necessary to preserve family honor, illustrating the tragic intersection of stigma, family dynamics, and mental health.
With women at heightened risk of abandonment, abuse, and disconnection from their fundamental rights, their plight encapsulates a broader crisis in Afghanistan where mental health services are woefully inadequate. Without significant change in societal attitudes, legal frameworks, and support systems, many remain trapped in a cycle of suffering with little hope for escape, quietly resonating the despair of those confined to places like Qala.
