In the still darkness of a Kabul basement, hidden from the Taliban’s watchful eyes, they train in secret. They fight, teaching their techniques to other women athletes. Despite the arrests, torture, and suffocating conditions, they refuse to stop. They hold onto hope, believing a day will come when tyranny falls and they won’t have to live under its shadow.
Since the Taliban took control of Afghanistan, restrictions on women have intensified, hitting female athletes hardest. Women’s sports centers were shut down, sports disciplines were canceled, and hundreds of athletes lost their place to train. But despite the danger of imprisonment and torture, a few girls continue, secretly practicing with whatever little equipment they can find.
Azar is one of those athletes. After the Taliban banned women’s sports, she didn’t stop. Instead, she gathered a few girls and began training in hidden places. She had already earned impressive achievements in sports like MMA, jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai. “Before the Taliban came to power, I was dedicated to my training,” Azar says. “I reached the fifth rank in Muay Thai, earned a brown belt in MMA, and jiu-jitsu, and made it to the eighth belt. I competed in many boxing matches and won countless medals.”
When the Taliban seized control, Azar and her friends kept training for a week. But it didn’t last long. The Taliban raided their gyms, shutting down all facilities across Kabul. Women were also banned from participating in the Olympics and any sports federations. Faced with this crisis, Azar refused to give up and found new ways to keep training.
At first, she and a few girls went to the mountains, training out of sight. For a month, they could only run, but the constant fear for their safety made them feel vulnerable. So, they moved their training to a basement.
Despite the tough economic situation, Azar and her friends rented a basement and scraped together some basic sports equipment. But it wasn’t long before the Taliban found them. They stormed in, destroyed all their equipment, and arrested Azar and two other girls who were coaching. “That day, we started as usual with about ten of us,” Azar recalls. “But we always feared the Taliban might come and arrest us. Sadly, that day, after our warm-ups, the Taliban burst in. They violently broke down the door. The girls were terrified, huddling together, stressed about what the Taliban might do or how they’d explain it to their families. The fighters angrily slashed all the mats and kicked the equipment across the room.”
After wrecking the gym, the Taliban lined up the girls and demanded to know who was responsible. Azar and two others stepped forward. The Taliban beat them, then hauled them to the station. “They hit us with their feet and gun butts, insulting us. They asked who told us to train and bring other girls into a closed space. They said women’s sports were forbidden in Islam. We told them it was our choice. We were held for about six hours before our families came with a district representative, and we were released on the condition that we’d stop training.”
Some time has passed since that day, but Azar remains determined to follow her dreams. Sports have been her passion since childhood, and she won’t give them up easily. Now, she trains in an even more hidden place—a pitch-black basement where only a few girls gather to continue their passion.
Marzia, another athlete, trains with her. Despite the harsh conditions, lack of equipment, and constant fear, they press on. Marzia, like Azar, had many achievements before the Taliban took over. After three years of training, she had won nine medals and a belt, now gathering dust in a corner of her home, hidden out of fear. “Even though my mental and emotional state isn’t great, and I know the Taliban will never allow us to train openly, I can’t accept a life without purpose,” Marzia says. “When I think of all my hard work and what I’ve achieved, I can’t give it up.”
Every day, they train with the constant fear of another Taliban raid. They lock the basement door and stay alert during practice, always on edge. At first, many girls joined them, but after the Taliban’s violent crackdown, most stopped coming out of fear. Only a few, like Marzia, continue by shifting locations to avoid detection.
Even with the endless challenges and the threat of arrest looming over them, Azar and Marzia keep chasing their dreams. They believe that one day the Taliban’s rule will end, and they will train freely again. They’re convinced that they can keep their dreams alive as long as they resist. “Things never stay the same forever,” Azar says. “One day, Afghanistan will be better than before. I believe in a bright future for sports after the Taliban. So, we must never give up. Even though we can’t train like before, the motivation to keep going is still inside us. We’re stronger now and will keep fighting until we succeed.”
They urge other female athletes not to lose hope, and to keep believing in their dreams. They look forward to the day they can bring pride to themselves and their country, free from fear when the Taliban’s regime falls.
You can read the Persian version of this Afghan woman’s story here:
از بازداشت و شکنجه تا مقاومت؛ نگاهی به وضعیت ورزشکاران زن در افغانستان | روزنامه ۸صبح
