• by External Source (kabul)
• Thursday, December 11, 2025
• Inter Press Service

KABUL, December 11 (IPS) - Shabnam, a 26-year-old law graduate, manages her life and work by disguising herself as a boy.  In the middle of a crowded market with the clatter of street sellers and the smell of nearby restaurants, a small, nondescript shop blends into the chaos. Inside, rusty shelves line the walls, empty soda cans hanging on the wall add a touch of color, and an old table covered with a worn-out cloth sits in the corner. To most passersby, the shopkeeper looks like a young man.

Few realize that behind this disguise, a young woman is breathing between fear and hope.

“I never had a childhood”, says the 26-year-old Shabnam. “While other children played in the streets, I was opening the shop”.

“From the age of ten”, Shabnam continues, “I worked part-time alongside my father, and continued working part-time as I pursued my studies with his guidance”.

Her father, though, is now elderly and partially paralyzed, and she is the family’s only source of income. Her greatest wish, she says, is for her younger brother to grow and succeed.

A secret held by only a few

Residents from the surrounding neighborhoods know her only as a polite young boy.

Every day, municipal officers collect taxes from shopkeepers, demanding payment whether they have made sales or not. This time, they even handed her a formal warning after the visit.

“Hey boy, pay your taxes!”, the tax collector shouted. “Grow your business. Get a small cart and sell in the street”.

Whose shop is this, by the way?”, he demands. Scared stiff, the frightened young “man” timidly replies, “It’s my father’s. He’s paralyzed and stays at home.”

“Rent out your shop and pay your taxes from the rent”, thunders the tax collector one more time. “Every shop pays taxes. How much have you sold so far?”

“I’ve earned 75 Afghanis (0.93 Euros)”, says Shabnam.

“Come on, that’s not enough. Go get a small cart and work harder, sell vegetables and fruits! Do you understand?”

Two neighboring shopkeepers, close friends of the young woman’s father, are very impressed by the girl’s resilience and determination.

“If this girl didn’t exist, her family would starve,” one says. “But if the Taliban discover that she is a woman disguised as a man, it would put her in danger. Unfortunately, her youngest brother is too small to run a shop”.

This secret is part of the daily life of this poor young woman. Since she dresses in boys’ clothing, fortunately, no one in our neighborhood, who are mostly tenants, recognizes her in the streets. Even her relatives do not come to propose marriage suitors for her, in accordance with Afghan custom, if they knew her real identity. Neighbours gossip around, proclaiming that, “May God never make our family like theirs, a young woman running a shop? No one in our tribe has ever been that shameless.”

A constant cloud of fear

Every morning, when she opens the shop door, a heavy fear sits on her chest.

“I have never started a day without dread. When the Taliban pass by the shop, my heart races. I wonder if this will be my last day in the shop”, she says.

Still, she has no choice. If she does not work, her family will not eat. They wait at home every evening for dinner until the shop closes.

“When my mother sees me, her eyes fill with tears. She kisses me and says: ‘You are a brave, strong girl—and a lawyer’! ’Shabnam says.

“My mother wanted to work; she wanted to wash clothes for others, but I didn’t let her. Recently, when I came home, I saw her sewing quilts and mattresses for people. I realized it was my turn to proclaim her brave and strong woman.”

The little income her mother earns helps cover the costs of her father’s blood pressure medication. The family of five includes two sisters and one brother.

“We often go to bed hungry if we earn less than 100 Afghanis a day. My brother cries himself to sleep, but I try to put on a smiling face even though I cry inside”.

Her words reflect the reality of thousands of Afghan women across Afghanistan.

A small dream that feels out of reach

Despite the risks, Shabnam holds onto a modest dream. “One day, I want enough capital to run a women’s business in this shop,” she says with a faint smile.  Instead of burnt chips and fizzy drinks that upset the stomachs of all the shopkeepers, I would sell fresh bolani” – a traditional Afghan flatbread, usually stuffed with potatoes, spinach, pumpkin or leeks.

But she has neither the capital nor the security needed to request a loan to purchase the equipment.

The neighbors closely follow Shabnam’s life. They have seen her cry behind the shop shelves and understand the fatigue that is wearing her down and know that there is no option. “This girl is like my own daughter,” says one of the neighbours”, I always admire her courage. She would not even accept any free offer from me”.

A society of silenced women

According to the United Nations, more than 80% of Afghan women have lost their jobs since the Taliban returned to power. Women who once supported their families are now confined to their homes. In this context, a young woman who still dares to keep her shop open is a symbol of quiet defiance. Yet this resistance could end at any moment with a single threat.

Her worst fear is the arrival of the tax collectors. She quietly pays whatever she can afford. There is no way out.

Economic experts warn that removing women from the workforce has pushed countless families into extreme poverty. Shabnam’s story is one small example of a much larger social crisis.

The shop is a shelter of hope

For Shabnam, the shop is more than a workplace. It is a refuge where she feels alive. Every soda can she hangs for decoration is a sign of hope. She tries to bring color to the shop even in the midst of poverty and threats.

“A secret of my success is the little disguise that makes everyone think I am a sixteen-year-old boy,” she says. “But these days, I wake up mostly in fear because of taxes. Will I be able to open the shop today? What if the municipal officers come, take everything from me in one moment, and dump it in the street? What if I am unable to buy a small tray or give up my shop for rent? What will they do to me?”

“My story could be the story of thousands of other women, who still fight for bread, for life, and for their dignity”, she reflects

Despite the enormous challenges, Shabnam still harbors the ambition of completing her law studies and becoming the lawyer that she once set out to be.

© Inter Press Service (20251211190610) — All Rights Reserved. Original source: Inter Press Service

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