“I never wanted to study midwifery,” a 20-year-old woman from Afghanistan’s eastern province of Nangarhar told me. “But after the university ban, I couldn’t continue to study computer science – the major which was my dream and what I had worked so hard for.”

December 20 marked the second anniversary of the Taliban’s ban on women attending university in Afghanistan. While some women like the student from Nangarhar turned to midwifery due to healthcare shortages in their provinces, in early December the Taliban banned Afghan women from pursuing even this path.

I interviewed 10 Afghan women across the country for this story.

For obvious security reasons, their names remain anonymous.

“I am so miserable to be born in Afghanistan and live under the Taliban’s regime,” a 19-year-old woman told me. “I was in grade 10 when the Taliban banned secondary schools for us. After two years, I was eligible to take the university entrance exam even though I hadn’t completed grade twelve. But the Taliban banned us from sitting for the entrance exam too,” she said. “Despite having a phobia of blood, I decided to study midwifery – but now that is also banned.”

This ban not only delivers another blow to an already restricted education system, it also severely impacts Afghanistan’s healthcare system, which stands on the verge of collapse.

“This decision will limit women and girls’ already precarious access to healthcare, as male medical staff are prohibited from treating women unless a male relative is present,” said Ravina Shamdasani, Spokesperson for the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. “Afghanistan already has one of the highest rates of maternal mortality in the world. Women’s presence in the health sector is crucial.”

The situation in rural areas is particularly dire. A woman from a remote village described their local healthcare: “There is only one female so-called doctor in the clinic in our neighborhood. She does all kinds of treatments, including midwifery, but it is extremely limited. She gives only one type of medicine to treat all kinds of illnesses.”

Another woman from the Salang district shared that the nearest clinic is 30 kilometers away, with only two female doctors. “I have witnessed several cases where families don’t take their sisters, daughters, and female relatives to the clinic because of the distance and difficulties, especially when a female doctor isn’t available,” she said. “I saw pregnant women die at home or on their way to the clinic.”

While I had read extensively about Afghanistan’s healthcare system shortages, hearing these firsthand accounts from women across the country revealed an almost unbelievable reality. In early December, UNICEF reported that Afghanistan had one of the world’s highest maternal mortality rates – 638 mothers dying for every 100,000 births – exacerbated by acute shortages of qualified birth attendants.

Last week, I spoke with Dr. Soroush, an obstetrician with thirteen years of experience, about the midwifery ban and its implications. She explained that midwives play a crucial role distinct from doctors: “Many rural areas don’t have an obstetrician, but they have a midwife who checks and can help both mother and newborn baby.”

When I asked whether existing female doctors and obstetricians might help offset the challenges ahead, she immediately corrected me: “No, this is not about female doctors and obstetrics, it is only about midwives. It’s almost four years that we don’t have a next generation of female doctors and obstetricians.”

Her words were chilling. The Taliban’s gradual and systematic restrictions on women – from education to basic communication, and now the ban on studying midwifery – represent yet another direct threat to women’s lives. These women and girls, imprisoned by the Taliban’s gender apartheid regime, are calling for the international community to stand with them and take real action before it’s too late.

The author is an anonymous Afghan legal scholar who cannot be identified publicly due to security concerns.