The women tell the BBC what they will be missing and missing from the Taliban ban on beauty salons.
By order of the Taliban, the Islamic fundamentalist group that governs Afghanistan, all beauty salons in the country will begin to close in the coming weeks.
It is estimated that the closure will result in the loss of around 60,000 jobs.
When the Taliban took over two years ago, the salons were allowed to continue operating, but the group has changed sides in the last month.
The decision further limits the activities that Afghan women can attend: it is already forbidden to attend classrooms, gyms and parks.
Zarmina (fictitious name, like everyone else in the article), 23, was at a beauty salon dyeing her hair dark brown when she learned of the closing order.
“The owner had a big scare and started crying. [O salão] He is the breadwinner for the family,” said the client, a mother of two.
“I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror while my eyebrow was being done. Everyone was crying. There was silence.”
Zarmina lives in Kandahar, in southern Afghanistan, a conservative city where the supreme leader of the Taliban lives.
She says it’s common there for men to forbid their daughters from wearing makeup or undergoing beauty procedures.
“Most women walk burqa OR hijabs [véus] This way. We accept it as part of our culture.”
Zarmina got married at the age of 16. For her, going to the salon gave her a rare sense of freedom.
“I wasn’t allowed to leave the house alone, but I persuaded my husband and I succeeded [a permissão para] go to the beauty salon two or three times a year.”
She used to go to the salon with a neighbor and even developed a strong friendship with one of the salon employees.

“In the past, women were able to talk about ways to influence their husbands. Some were open about their insecurities.”
But the economic crisis gradually intruded on their lives after the Taliban regained power in August 2021 following the withdrawal of US forces from Afghanistan.
Since then, women’s freedoms have diminished.
“Now women only talk about unemployment, discrimination and poverty,” says Zarmina.
nice memories
Madina covers her head with a veil when she leaves the house. Only her husband and women of her family can see her colored hair.
The 22-year-old lives in Kabul and closely follows the latest beauty trends online.
“Every woman I know loves to step up her style. I love wearing makeup and keeping up with what’s hot.”
She says going to the beauty salon has kept her marriage fresh.
“My husband really loves seeing my hair in different colors and cuts.”
“He always takes me to the salon and waits patiently at the door,” she says proudly.
“He compliments my looks when I go out, which makes me feel good.”
Madina’s ambition was to become a lawyer, but the Taliban prevented women from going to university. He is unable to find work as women are barred from many other roles.

As a child, Madina accompanied her mother to the salon. She vividly recalls how the women openly shared their life stories with each other.
Today the climate is different.
“Salon workers are no longer wearing skirts or jeans, they are all wearing them hijabs.”
“Nobody knows who is a supporter of the Taliban and nobody wants to talk about politics.”
In the past, the bride and groom could watch the bride get ready. Madina still remembers some men taking pictures of their partners inside the salon. Now all this is forbidden.

Madina celebrates that at least she has happy memories of her “big day” to cherish.
“I went to the beauty salon and had a full bridal makeup done before my wedding last year,” she recalls.
“When I looked in the mirror, I was so beautiful. It transformed me. I couldn’t describe my happiness.”
covert therapy
For Somaya, 27, from the northwestern city of Mazar-i-Sharif, going to the beauty salon is a necessity.
Three years ago, the heater in her room blew and she suffered burns to her face, losing her eyebrows and eyelashes.
“I couldn’t bear to look at my face. I was ugly,” she says, her voice emotional.
“I thought everyone was looking at me and laughing at me because my eyebrows were gone. I stopped going out for a few months. I cried a lot during that time.”
The medical treatments healed her wounds, while the beauty salon helped her regain her self-confidence.

“I went to the beauty salon and got microblading [uma forma semipermanente de preencher as sobrancelhas]. She has improved my looks a lot,” she says.
“When I looked at my brows, I started crying. They were tears of joy. The beauty salon brought me back to life.”
Somaya has a master’s degree in psychology and works as a mental health counselor. She has seen an increase in the number of women seeking her services since the Taliban imposed sweeping restrictions.
She’s not alone in using the salon as a form of “therapy.”
“For us, salons were more than places to do our makeup. They helped us hide our wounds. They were places that gave us energy and hope.”
Zarmina agrees. As he walked home that June day, on what would be his last visit to the salon, she kept looking back.
She was fully aware of what she was missing: her small chance at independence.
“I used to pay at the salon, which gave me strength and power. I have money now, but I can’t spend it on myself at the beauty salon. It makes me feel poor.”
Source: Terra

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