Mona Siddiqui

What does it mean to erase a woman? You don't have to kill her. You can simply make her invisible. Tell her she can’t get a higher education, she can’t work freely, tell her where she can go, who she can speak to, and how loudly she can speak. Eventually, you don't need to silence her because her absence has been made normal.

Five years after the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan, women and girls have told the BBC their lives are unrecognisable under the rule of the regime. The Taliban's foreign minister, Amir Khan Muttaqi, was asked by the BBC about education for girls in Afghanistan, to which he replied that "it is not correct to say everything is banned for women", "Women are not totally restricted on all walks of life... Only one small part (of their affairs) is restricted until further notice."

And while there is some disagreement within the Taliban as well as condemnation from many Muslim voices and organisations, those who rule say they are doing this in the name of Islam. But a government that needs to control the movement, clothing, education and voice of women in the name of morality, a morality that requires women to disappear isn’t showing strength; it’s showing fear dressed as piety. Because often across all faiths, religious authority which says `We know what God wants’ always conveniently discovers that what God wants looks remarkably like what we want. And that’s why gradually the word woman is ignored from the Qur’anic verses which speak of the moral agency of “the believing men and believing women, the devout men and devout women, the truthful men and truthful women.”

Today the women of Afghanistan have become a political and theological test. But perhaps the most dangerous thing is the possibility that the world will eventually become accustomed to it. Because oppression has a final victory. Not when people are silenced, but when their silence no longer disturbs us.

And yet despite all of this, many women tell the BBC, `One day, everything will change... but we must continue with patience, and we will not lose hope." A government can close a school, it can close a university, it can close a woman's workplace but it can’t destroy the future she imagines.’ In the words of the Afghan poet, Nadia Anjuman, who wrote in her poem `My Garden’: `I will trust the meaning of hope, I will shut the door on grief and find another path.’