“Shikha, we are in a very bad condition right now. I wish god sends something and kills us all. Tired of everything. Unfortunately, we will not survive like this.”

This is one of the messages I received yesterday from a woman I know living in Afghanistan, amid news that the Taliban were cutting off the internet. Today, September 18, 2025, the story has appeared on multiple international media sites, including Sky News, The Washington Post, NDTV, Reuters, CNN, and Euro News. Despite this, I question whether the world truly grasps the life-altering impact this ban has on Afghan women and girls—and whether they are paying attention to what it means.

Over the past four years I, along with numerous others, have witnessed the world’s diminishing response to Afghanistan’s human rights crisis. When the Taliban returned to power in August 2021, or rather, when the country was handed back to them, the news was current and gathered support worldwide. Since then, while the Taliban have not held back their venomous agenda and have intensified their restrictions, especially on Afghan women and girls, introducing edict after edict, the world, unfortunately, has lost interest in the country as a whole and in Afghan women’s fight for freedom and justice.

I’m not sure why this is, or why Afghanistan is, for many, a “lost cause.” If people took the time to understand and truly see how hard Afghans, especially women and girls, have worked over the past four years to live and work with dignity, they would be as amazed as I have been by their courage and resilience. If only enough people looked past the sea of blue burqas and took the time to understand the individuals under the garb, they would see the person and not just someone who they think is a part of a “lost” collective.

Since yesterday’s news, several girls have reached out to me with heart-breaking messages, showing just how devastating these restrictions are. While I had managed to keep my sense of hope for them intact earlier, this time it is wavering. For anyone who cannot grasp the enormity of what is happening, let me be clear: cutting off the internet pushes Afghan women and girls further into isolation, which for many is a fate as good as death. The shutting down of schools and colleges, the closing of parlours, the ban on public spaces, and the systematic removal of women from society have already led to a widespread epidemic of mental health issues. Suicide rates among Afghan girls and women are rising. Losing online connection cuts their last avenue for support and hope.

The Taliban say they are banning internet connections via fiber optic cable to prevent “immoral activities,” mainly men’s access to pornography. Many Afghans do not believe this, since other countries have blocked access to porn sites without a complete internet ban. While, in many areas, the internet can still be accessed through mobile data, it is far more expensive and slower than cable internet. In a country already facing extreme poverty, unemployment, and a collapsed economy, very few people have extra funds for mobile data. 

Khalyla Harito, Founder of the Hope and Kindness Organization in Afghanistan, through whom I conduct most of my aid work, tells me that if the internet ban spreads to other areas, especially Kabul, it will significantly disrupt their aid distribution. “Our aid requests and updates depend on platforms like WhatsApp, Facebook, and X. Communication with the orphanages we support and our volunteers across regions would be hindered, as would real-time updates from people in different provinces.

Alternative data services are expensive, and Star link is both illegal and unaffordable for most. The girls, especially in our orphanage, who are already banned from school, rely on the internet for education and connection. Even younger school-going girls depend on it for their schoolwork and projects.” 

As Afghan organizations and educational platforms gather to discuss this crisis, Pashtana Durrani, an award-winning activist and founder of LEARN Afghanistan, the country’s first digital school network, says this move doesn’t surprise her, and they have been preparing for it.  Pashtana’s message is one I’ve come across that offers solutions and a way to continue during this crisis. “LEARN has invested in the HELA app for over three years to make sure it works peer-to-peer with low bandwidth, with content from grades 7–12 in Dari and Pashto. We’ve also partnered with satellite providers in Afghanistan that cannot be traced or shut down. In addition, our SIM-card-based content reaches almost 2 million learners, and our radio partnership educates 5 million people daily. For years, I’ve believed that if a regime chooses to be at war with teenage girls, you cannot expect anything fair. That’s why we started investing in these tools years ago. Today, we have a footprint in 30 provinces unofficially and 17 officially. So while an internet shutdown is concerning, any ed-tech leader or Afghan who has been engaged long enough could have predicted this and prepared for it.”

WDI, Women’s Declaration Afghanistan, on the other hand, is providing internet access to students directly through the Ding App on their phones, enabling continued learning via mobile data. 

In essence, banning the internet further strips Afghan women of agency, deepens their vulnerability, endangers their lives, and makes their struggle invisible to the world.

Internet access has not only enabled Afghan girls to continue their education and learning, it’s how many women have access to online support groups for their mental and physical health. It’s how many are still a part of communities within the country and outside of it. Many families rely on social media to request food and other necessary aid.

Sustaining connectivity for Afghan women and girls will require innovative solutions, creative problem-solving, and increased funding. It will require the world to pay attention and speak up for women in Afghanistan.

I leave you with messages from three Afghan women: two are currently enrolled in Sahar Education’s online learning programs, and Nigin is an Afghan artist and activist who runs educational and art support groups for Afghan women and girls.

Losing all Hope 

The Right to Breathe

The Impact of Internet Shutdown on my Life and the Challenges it Brings