Marzia Babakarkhail, a former family law judge in Afghanistan during the 1990s, has dedicated her career to justice. In the wake of the Taliban’s return to power in August 2021, Marzia shifted her focus to championing women’s rights and leading a campaign to support female judges still in Afghanistan, facing imminent danger. Facing threats, frozen accounts, and halted salaries, female judges endured escalating risks under the Taliban’s rule. Marzia, now in the UK, advocates for the evacuation and resettlement of female Afghan judges and their families stranded in Afghanistan or stuck in transit in Pakistan. Despite having faced threats and danger herself, Marzia remains steadfast in her mission, securing tens of thousands of signatures on a Change.org petition. Her unwavering commitment reflects her enduring dedication to the cause of justice and women’s rights in Afghanistan.
CJLPA: Welcome, Marzia Babakarkhail. Thank you for taking the time to come and interview with The Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics, and Art. You have inspired through your career as a family court judge in Afghanistan. Nowadays, with respect to women’s rights in Afghanistan, you are leading your campaign to support women judges still living in Afghanistan in danger. Today, we would like to concentrate this interview on your story as a female judge forced to leave Afghanistan and lead a campaign to support your colleagues. Can you tell us about your background and your career as a lawyer and judge in Afghanistan? What motivated you to pursue a career in law and justice?
Mazia Babakarkhail: Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity to advocate for the voiceless. In my country, female judges are particularly disadvantaged and at risk. As you mentioned, I am Marzia Babakarkhail Qazi from Afghanistan. I was fortunate to be born into an educated family—my mother was a teacher and a school principal, and my dad was self-employed, a true feminist. My life’s motivation stems from my parents.
From a young age, I aspired to be a judge. We occasionally had open days where we set our goals. I was not very committed to my studies during school, limiting our opportunities. We had private study at home and attended a government school.
One day, while with my dad, we visited my mother’s school. Witnessing my dad, an Afghan man, abruptly jump from the car to greet a woman respectfully was a unique experience. This was Judge Nafisa Shirzad, the first judge in Puli Khumri, renowned and respected in the community. Inspired, I expressed my desire to become a judge. My dad laughed and supported my decision because I was not excelling academically. Working hard and motivated by Judge Nafisa Shirzad, I concentrated on my studies. After finishing high school, I faced an extensive exam called Kankor, which is a mandatory requirement for students who wish to pursue higher education at universities. After passing my exam and getting selected, I enrolled in the Sharia faculty at Kabul University.
After graduating from university, I was employed at the Court as a clerk. Despite witnessing injustices and feeling powerless while working with a high-profile male judge, I persevered. The rule stated that additional judiciary training would be provided after a certain period of working as a clerk. I had the opportunity to attend judiciary training at the Supreme Court in Kabul. Upon successful completion of the program returned to Puli Khumri, my hometown, and started working as a judge. This was a significant and fulfilling time in my life, aligning with the future I had envisioned for myself.
CJLPA: You started speaking about the challenges and injustice you faced as a clerk. Would you share some essential experiences and challenges you faced during your tenure in the Afghanistan justice system?
MB: All women judges face challenges. The balance of male and female judges differed during our work with male counterparts. We worked harder than others, but our work, not just mine but collectively as a group, was never as much appreciated as it should have been. We excelled at writing; our statements were perfect for reading cases. We worked diligently, reaching out to women judges across Afghanistan.
The challenges arose when I became a judge. I was already aware that the system was complicated and cold for women. However, the problem became more apparent as a judge because the law binds you, limiting your direct ability to help someone. One day, a pregnant lady came to me, crying. She explained that her husband wanted to divorce her while she had a four-year-old and was pregnant. The husband, a policeman, insisted on an immediate divorce. Witnessing his aggressive behaviour, I felt anger but maintained composure. I had learned patience at a young age.
I was very young and inexperienced in life, to be honest. Sometimes, you cry inside, but you cannot cry in front of people. You are not happy with something, but you keep it inside. You put everything inside. I was in the same situation. I walked out of my room, took a deep breath, returned, and told him, ‘Can you please wait for some time?’ He said, ‘No, I just want it now’. Suddenly, the lady escaped, came to the floor, and started to plead with him.
All that was very heartbreaking for me as a woman. I wanted to resign and said, ‘No, it is just a job; it is not for me because I cannot see women bargaining. In this time, she needs love; she needs somebody to care for her’. She stopped pleading and went to the floor, kissing her husband’s feet. I questioned why this happens to women. Not knowing the person’s situation outside the court, I could not judge her.
When I finished my work and went home, I told my mother about the significant incident at work. I considered avoiding continuing with this job. Sometimes, we do something for status. That time, I realised my naïveté. Sometimes, we are very naïve; we do something to become famous for our status. But it is still humanity inside you that always alarms you—you are wrong and not for this. See, you are not doing well in your life.
I spoke with Judge Nafisa Shirzad, and the lady motivated me. I asked her how she deals with all these things in her life. She said, ‘Learn to deal with problems. If you leave this job, if I leave this job, who can help the woman with a strong word for her?’ I always remember her words, and I respect them. I wrote on paper: ‘If you do not help women, who can?’ That was from Judge Nafisa Shirzad. I walked back to my room and said, ‘No. I will stand with these women. I will not leave this job’. Why should I leave? I worked hard to become a judge. She is right. We are the same human beings. She can deal with it; I can deal with it, too. Of course, she was more experienced than me. I was very young, a judge. I could not compare myself with her, until now.
Divorce at that time in the 1990s was not popular in Afghanistan. If you are not happy, it does not matter, if you do not have even one minute of happiness in your life. Some women from villages outside the city came and married a city man. The problem was that when you divorced, your family could not accept you back, because the village people would judge you: ‘Oh, the younger girl is not good enough because she returns’.
I wondered how could I help the woman, because as a judge I could not do anything. As a human being, I had to do something for her. When I asked my family, I told them we could make a living room for the divorced woman on our farm and keep them there until they find a place or somebody to make a new life for them. My mother agreed, and I told the woman after the divorce, ‘I have someone I know in the family who helps divorced women. This is the address, you can go there’. I remember that time, there was no mobile phone, only a home phone. I gave them our house’s number and address, but I had yet to tell them that it was my house.
Sometimes, the woman came to meet with my mother because my mother was very trustworthy. She was a principal at a school; everybody knew their school, and the divorced woman was sent to the farm on Friday. I told my mother, ‘I want to meet with this divorced woman’. I went to the farm, and I saw her. She was shocked, wondering why the judge followed her. I said ‘no, this is my mother!’
CJLPA: Your involvement in UN-funded programs is noteworthy. How did these collaborations contribute to your efforts to promote human rights and gender equality in Afghanistan?
MB: As a judge, I established a women’s organisation called the Afgan Women’s Social and Cultural Organisation (AWSCO) in 1994. UNICEF funded the project, which intends to support women, while I worked in Puli Khumri.
CJLPA: Let’s move now to when you fled Afghanistan and moved to the United Kingdom, where you continue your activism. Can you share more about the spirit of the time when you moved? What were the main struggles and primary wins of that time, and what activities and campaigns did you begin to start during this period concerning gender equality and women’s rights?
MB: When I left Afghanistan for the second time in my life, in November 2008, it was because of the Taliban, who tried to kill me in Pakistan. They hit me with a car and I ended up in hospital. Despite never wanting to leave Afghanistan, my mother, considering the dangers, decided it was necessary. Although I had travelled to different countries for training and conferences, I never desired to leave my country, the country I love!
At the age of 45, it was not an ideal time to become an asylum seeker. Leaving one’s country is never a willing choice, especially when one has a good life, a good job, a communication network, and strong connections. When I left, it was a decision forced upon me, particularly by my mother. I came to the UK, applied for asylum, and was granted it swiftly, receiving leave to remain.
Like many others, leaving everything behind was not just a matter of relocation; it was also about the timing. I left at a challenging age, carrying significant trauma from my life in Afghanistan. Upon arriving in the UK, I faced severe depression, refusing even to eat or shower. I found myself in a dreadful state. Once, I went to the hospital for an X-ray of my legs, injured by the Taliban in Afghanistan. During the X-ray, the nurse noticed an unpleasant smell, and I realised it was because I had no motivation for self-care. The nurse, sensing my despair, asked about the language I spoke. Although my English was limited, her compassion and encouragement helped me to start afresh. She told me, ‘This is your life, you can move on in your life’. Returning home, I took a shower and gradually began reconnecting with people, including those at college.
Losing my mother in 2010 intensified my depression as I was not allowed to bid her a last goodbye, a wish many daughters harbour and a pain I still bear.
During my study at Oldham College in 2016, I took the British citizenship exam and delivered my first public speech at Oldham Library in 2015, sharing my life experiences. Encouraged by women’s support, I started helping others through mentoring, contributing to a refugee project, and volunteering with a local MP. I began working as an immigration caseworker, utilising my language skills and personal experiences to assist individuals dealing with immigration issues.
Volunteering with Street Angels and women’s organisations in the UK, I became a trustee for the City of Sanctuary UK organisation. However, I have always focused on finding my passion rather than titles or recognition. If faced with jealousy or judgment, I prefer leaving instead of engaging in unnecessary conflicts.
Amidst my journey, the Taliban came into power in Afghanistan, prompting a plea from my colleague, the former Afghan judge Kamila Noori, now in America, to stand united. We spoke on the phone, and she added me to a WhatsApp group of women judges. This led to the formation of a campaign advocating for the resettlement of women judges. With international support and collaborations, including efforts from my colleagues and speaking in Parliament, the campaign gained momentum.[1] However, challenges persisted as some organisations shockingly rejected funding applications for the judges.
Continuing the campaign, I highlighted the situation of women judges in Afghanistan, seeking action beyond sympathy. Our volunteer network has been instrumental in managing communications, including YouTube and TikTok channels, and ensuring accuracy in my messages to ministers and MPs. Despite challenges, the campaign has achieved engagement with key figures, including Rina Amiri, the US Special Envoy for Afghan Women, Girls, and Human Rights.
As judges like me face numerous challenges in a male-dominated society, the campaign remains a collective effort to stand up for justice and advocate for the rights of women in Afghanistan. There are still around 38 women judges remaining in Afghanistan, and some of them in Pakistan.
The Taliban’s assumption of power marked a distressing period. They released prisoners, including criminals rightfully incarcerated by the judges. It raises questions about accountability: who instigated their release, and who sent these judges, not as adversaries but as upholders of justice, to prison? The predicament extends beyond the Taliban; former prisoners, now aligned with the Taliban, pose a grave threat to my colleagues.
Heart-breaking stories abound, such as a colleague unable to muster the courage to visit her cancer-stricken daughter. The media serves as a platform for me to share these stories, shedding light on the plight of women judges.
The problem is escalating daily, yet policymakers and the global community remain eerily silent. It is a plea for humanity—to extend a helping hand when it’s most needed.
CJLPA: Could you tell the readers what the role of the international community, including the governments and NGOs worldwide, in addressing the urgent needs of Afghan women, specifically judges, and what would be the best actions to help solve the current situation and support them and make them live for the country and live safely?
MB: Misinformation can be a challenge for our campaign, as it can cloud the information landscape. I maintain round-the-clock contact with my colleagues. To ensure thorough preparation, we have dedicated groups for interviews, meetings, and decisions.
Judge Sadaf Bunyadi, based in Canada, has been a formidable ally for my campaign and I am thankful to her. Despite leaving Afghanistan, her relentless efforts continue to support our camping immensely.
The activist community has exhibited remarkable humanity and feminism. Their solidarity echoes a collective voice for Afghanistan and women worldwide. In the next phase, we urgently call for tangible action from governments, including the United Nations, the US Department, the UK government, and the German government. Numerous women have applied for resettlement in Germany and Canada, seeking refuge from the dire situation in Afghanistan. We implore these governments to consider the plight of women judges and women in Afghanistan.
CJLPA: Is there anything else you would like to add or any specific calls to action you would like to emphasise to our audience to support your advocacy?
MB: We acknowledge that Afghanistan remains a critical concern, even with the busy schedules of media and policymakers. We are asking for the fulfilment of promises made, not additional favours. I stress the importance of governments taking practical measures.
Additionally, we are grateful for the dedication of the International Association of Women Judges (IAWJ) in assisting Afghan women judges since the Taliban took over Afghanistan in August 2021. Their contributions and efforts will never be forgotten by us.
To sum up, I urge policymakers to take note of our message and provide assistance to Afghan female judges who are stranded in Afghanistan before it is too late.
CJLPA: Thank you very much for this interview. We hope that your voice will be heard by many of the people who will read this article and listen to your interview.
This interview was conducted by Angelina Spilnyk, a graduate of the Ivan Franko National University of Lviv, Ukraine, in 2022 with a major in International Public Law. Alongside her position as a Legal Researcher at CJLPA, she is pursuing a Master’s in Maritime Law at the University of Southampton.
[1] For more information on Marzia’s campaign, see Marzia Babakarkhail, ‘Afghan Women Judges Trapped in the Country Are Desperately Seeking Sanctuary’ (PassBlue, 13 June 2023) <https://www.passblue.com/2023/06/13/afghan-women-judges-still-trapped-in-the-country-desperately-need-sanctuary/> accessed 10 March 2024.
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