Afghan Female Journalist Who Fled Taliban Now Fears Deportation from Pakistan

The air in Rawalpindi is thick with exhaust fumes and mounting fear. Amid the bustling streets, Farishta Azizi moves quietly—a 38-year-old former Afghan journalist who has fled the Taliban. 

Now, she is one of the thousands of Afghans living as ‘ghosts in the system’ —in Pakistan, whose government has decided that they must leave. 

Afghan refugees returning into their country after Pakistan government deadline, near Khyber district. (Photo: Voice of America, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons)

When the Taliban swept into power in August 2021, Afghanistan’s landscape changed overnight. The rapid fall of key cities like Ghazni and the entry into Kabul, the capital, marked the collapse of the Afghan government as President Ghani fled the country. 

“I remember the day they took over,” Farishta recalls, her voice heavy with the weight of that memory. “There was chaos everywhere; shops shuttered, terror filled the air. I would shut my eyes and cover my hands to block it out.” 

For years, Farishta had built a career at Radio Television of Afghanistan (RTA), one of the country’s main broadcasters. But within days of the Taliban takeover, RTA was seized. 

“One day, I went to work and was told to go home," she recalls. “They said I no longer belonged there.” 

Like many Afghan women who had found a foothold in public life, Farishta saw her world collapse. The Taliban’s return was not merely a political transition; it was the erasure of women from the public sphere. 

Today, the UN describes Afghanistan as a society where women have been driven out of public life almost completely — banned from working in most jobs, forced to observe strict dress codes, barred from education beyond primary school, and prohibited from public spaces like parks or sports facilities. Women must now be accompanied by their male guardians, mahram, to leave home. 

After years of progress in women’s status, UNAMA’s human rights mission reports that such restrictions strip women of their autonomy, mobility, and right to participate in society. 

Screenshot from “Freedom, Democracy,” a video produced by RAWA (Revolutionary Association of the Women of Afghanistan). 

Before the Taliban’s return, women like Farishta thrived in the media, working in writing, photography, broadcasting, and with hopes of leadership. “I loved my work,” she recalls, “but then I found myself in a cage.. confined, silenced and powerless.”

Farishta's life is all about survival and loss. After her father died young, her mother became her only anchor through years of conflict and displacement. 

“We lived in constant fear in Afghanistan. Strange people would come to our door,” she recalls. 

“We wouldn't open it.” 

That fear deepened in December 2022, when the Taliban issued a ban preventing all local and foreign NGOs in Afghanistan from employing women, citing violations of their dress code. The Taliban warned that NGOs failing to comply risk losing their operating licenses, further eroding opportunities for women and threatening aid delivery. 

“For journalists, fear became routine,” Farishta says. “The situation has become worse for everyone — but for women, it is far worse.” 

With limited savings, Farishta initially managed to survive the takeover. But the fear, especially as a woman under Taliban rule, became unbearable. 

In 2022, she took refuge in Iran; yet, even there, the environment for journalists proved hostile, forcing her to pack her bags again. 

In 2023, Farishta arrived in Pakistan. 

Why is Pakistan deporting Afghans? 

Pakistan has hosted Afghan refugees for nearly four decades, but recent policies and cross-border tensions have changed the landscape. Pakistani Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif has directed authorities to begin the immediate repatriation of ‘illegal’ Afghan nationals, citing rising attacks and alleged involvement of Afghan citizens in terrorism. 

“Pakistan has always supported Afghans in difficult times,” Sharif said, “but the recent security situation has become deeply alarming.” 

Pakistan’s Prime Minister, Shehbaz Sharif, at the 17th summit of the Economic Cooperation Organization in July 2025. (Photo: President.az, CC BY 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)

In October 2023, Pakistan initiated the Illegal Foreigners Repatriation Plan (IFRP) aimed at deporting approximately three million Afghans residing in the country. This three-phased plan begins with the deportation of unregistered and overstaying foreigners, including undocumented Afghans. Later phases target holders of Afghan Citizen Cards (ACC) and Proof of Registration (PoR) cards, those with some legal status but still subject to repatriation. 

UNHCR Pakistan’s spokesperson, Qaiser Khan Afridi, confirms that around 1.2 million Afghan refugees with PoR cards live in Pakistan, along with 115,000 Afghans registered with UNHCR since 2021, and more than 700,000 ACC holders. Since the start of Pakistan’s repatriation policy (IFRP), roughly 1.6 million Afghans have returned, with 130,000 deportees. In 2025 alone, 800,000 have returned, 93,000 of whom were deported. 

This measure forms part of a wider regional security crackdown, including similar pushes by Iran, leading to mass returns to Afghanistan under Taliban control. 

Pakistan’s government cites this deportation as a national security measure and an attempt to regulate unauthorized foreigners. The order follows an increase in armed attacks across Pakistan, which the government attributes to groups and nationals based in Afghanistan. 

The crackdown quickly spread across major cities. Reports from Islamabad, Rawalpindi, Peshawar, Lahore, and Karachi describe a wave of Afghans being rounded up and detained; in Rawalpindi alone, police confirmed more than 800 arrests within a single week. 

An April 2025 report from Afghan 24-hour news outlet TOLOnews.  

Human rights groups and the UNHCR warn that such deportations put lives at risk. 

“UNHCR urges Pakistan to continue protecting those seeking safety, recognising the ongoing human rights crisis in Afghanistan,” said Afridi, the UNHCR spokesperson in Pakistan. “We have already screened and documented Afghans, and we urge the government to recognize our documents and refrain from arresting these asylum seekers.” 

Despite hosting millions of refugees over four decades, Pakistan remains outside the 1951 Refugee Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees and lacks a formal legal framework for displaced populations. Refugees and asylum seekers are generally governed under the Foreigners Act, which gives the government wide-ranging authority over their stay and deportation.

Moniza Kakar, a human rights lawyer and coordinator of JAC-R (Pakistan’s Joint Action Committee for Refugees), describes the Act as a “colonial law that gives sweeping powers to detain and deport any ‘foreigner’ without hearing or time limit. It disregards humanitarian issues, risks of persecution, or family circumstances before deportation.” 

“We are two women alone” 

In a cramped, sparsely furnished apartment in Rawalpindi, Farishta and her mother live quietly in their tiny one-bedroom flat, with its empty, unfurnished living room. 

What fills the space instead is fear.  

Every knock on the door makes them flinch. Every loud noise from the street below sends their heart racing. 

“I came to Pakistan with this fear,” Farishta said, taking a deep breath. “We are two women alone. Will we ever be safe?” 

“Human rights organizations have urged Pakistan to reverse its deportation drive and establish a fair, humane refugee policy. In a public letter, the Joint Action Committee for Refugees (JAC-R) stated, ‘All Afghans in Pakistan must be formally recognized as part of our society.’ The coordinator of JAC-R, Moniza Kakar, said, ‘We urge the Pakistani government to introduce humanitarian visas, suspend mass deportations, and establish fair, case-by-case procedures.’”

With no access to healthcare, legal protection, or a steady income, Farishta depends on small gigs like translations. It is never enough to sustain both of them, and sometimes she reaches out to friends back in Afghanistan for financial help. 

At night, Farishta’s phone lights up with messages from unknown Pakistani numbers. Each one feels like a threat. “I block them right away,” she said. “I don’t know who they are, and I am afraid for my life.” 

The constant threat of deportation has taken a devastating toll on Farishta’s mental health. The trauma, like a physical illness, has begun to consume her memory, sometimes making even simple things slip away. 

“I am depressed,” she confides. “One day, I called my friend to ask when we graduated because I could not recall it. Some days, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast. I cannot recall it because I am under constant stress.” 

When news of mass deportations broke, sleep deserted her. 

“I couldn’t sleep for a week. I worried about my mother. She never went to school and doesn’t speak Urdu. What if someone takes her away? How will I find her?” 

Now, even the smallest sounds make her anxious.

“If someone is walking behind me, I feel like they are following me.” Once a confident, spirited journalist, Farishta now describes herself as “very weak.” 

Human rights organizations have urged Pakistan to reverse its deportation drive and establish a fair, humane refugee policy. In a public letter, the Joint Action Committee for Refugees (JAC-R) stated, “All Afghans in Pakistan must be formally recognized as part of our society.” 

The coordinator of JAC-R, Moniza Kakar, said, “We urge the Pakistani government to introduce humanitarian visas, suspend mass deportations, and establish fair, case-by-case procedures.” 

But for Afghans like Farishta, the future is uncertain. 

“There is no light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t see a future,” Farishta says.