In the heart of Kabul, behind a daunting steel gate and barbed wire, lies the Qala mental health centre, a facility that has become a refuge for disadvantaged women in Afghanistan. Operating under the Afghan Red Crescent Society (ARCS), it is the largest establishment specifically catering to women facing mental health issues, yet it grapples with an overwhelming influx of patients.
During a recent BBC visit, the dire conditions inside were unveiled—104 women currently reside within the walls of Qala, with many more on waiting lists for assistance. One resident, Mariam*, who has enduringly weathered years of familial abuse, shares her plight. In her mid-20s, Mariam's family forced her into a cycle of homelessness, which ultimately led her to Qala, where she has lived for nine years. Despite her terrorizing past, Mariam's spirit remains unbroken; she assists with chores and dreams of a life beyond the centre, but is hindered by a lack of options for leaving.
Habiba, another patient aged 28, reveals her experience of abandonment by her husband after his remarriage. With no means to support herself or reconnect with her children, she finds herself feeling more imprisoned than liberated, just as Mariam does. The oppressive cultural structures surrounding women in Afghanistan make independence nearly impossible, where the right to travel, work, and access services is heavily guarded by patriarchal standards.
The mental health struggles among women are escalating, with a staggering 68% of women surveyed recently reporting poor mental health, as confirmed by UN data. Dr. Abdul Wali Utmanzai, a psychiatrist, highlights the increasing cases flooding into the healthcare system, with financial hardship often being a common denominator. The Taliban government claims to support women's health needs, yet the restrictions in place effectively deny them access to the necessary services.
Newer patients like 16-year-old Zainab, confined for a year before being admitted to Qala, illustrate the urgent need for mental health services in Afghanistan. With a history of traumatic experiences following violence at her school, she is now amongst the youngest residents grappling with her mental health. Her father openly laments the shame brought on the family due to her condition and their need for help.
As the situations for Mariam, Habiba, and Zainab highlight, many women at Qala find themselves caught in a devastating cycle of abandonment and social isolation, pointing to a dire need for action and understanding around women's mental health in Afghanistan. As the stories of these women unfold, the question remains whether they will be further forgotten by society or finally find a pathway to healing and support.
*Names have been changed for anonymity.
During a recent BBC visit, the dire conditions inside were unveiled—104 women currently reside within the walls of Qala, with many more on waiting lists for assistance. One resident, Mariam*, who has enduringly weathered years of familial abuse, shares her plight. In her mid-20s, Mariam's family forced her into a cycle of homelessness, which ultimately led her to Qala, where she has lived for nine years. Despite her terrorizing past, Mariam's spirit remains unbroken; she assists with chores and dreams of a life beyond the centre, but is hindered by a lack of options for leaving.
Habiba, another patient aged 28, reveals her experience of abandonment by her husband after his remarriage. With no means to support herself or reconnect with her children, she finds herself feeling more imprisoned than liberated, just as Mariam does. The oppressive cultural structures surrounding women in Afghanistan make independence nearly impossible, where the right to travel, work, and access services is heavily guarded by patriarchal standards.
The mental health struggles among women are escalating, with a staggering 68% of women surveyed recently reporting poor mental health, as confirmed by UN data. Dr. Abdul Wali Utmanzai, a psychiatrist, highlights the increasing cases flooding into the healthcare system, with financial hardship often being a common denominator. The Taliban government claims to support women's health needs, yet the restrictions in place effectively deny them access to the necessary services.
Newer patients like 16-year-old Zainab, confined for a year before being admitted to Qala, illustrate the urgent need for mental health services in Afghanistan. With a history of traumatic experiences following violence at her school, she is now amongst the youngest residents grappling with her mental health. Her father openly laments the shame brought on the family due to her condition and their need for help.
As the situations for Mariam, Habiba, and Zainab highlight, many women at Qala find themselves caught in a devastating cycle of abandonment and social isolation, pointing to a dire need for action and understanding around women's mental health in Afghanistan. As the stories of these women unfold, the question remains whether they will be further forgotten by society or finally find a pathway to healing and support.
*Names have been changed for anonymity.
