Fatima Haidari was sat at home in Italy when she received a video call from Fifa chief scrambling to escape the Taliban. The American military, in the final hours of leaving the country after 20 years, had closed the airport to commercial flights to evacuate their allies and members of the now-collapsed previous government.
Brutal scenes unfolded as thousands of desperate people crowded into the airport, beseeching the American, British and other European forces – which many of them had worked for over the previous two decades – to get them out. Some even held onto the sides of departing jets before falling to their deaths.
“Everybody has seen the photos,” Haidari says. “You just try to survive. You just try to find a way to just get out.”
Haidari escaped with the help of the Italian army, which had been stationed in Herat and was leaving along with the rest of the Nato contingent.
She is now a resident of Italy and plays in its football leagues. Her teammates are spread across Europe, Australia, and North America. Many of them were helped in their bids to flee Afghanistan by Fifa, alongside Western governments and organisations, in 2021.
While some have since received asylum, others have been left to navigate uncertain legal statuses. For a long time, their identity as a national team existed only in memory.
“For five years, we were told the Afghan women’s national team could never compete again because the men who took our country would not allow it,” former captain Khalida Popal, who played a pivotal role in coordinating with authorities from six countries to facilitate the evacuation of the players and their families, says.
The reason was structural as much as political: Fifa rules required recognition of the team from the Afghanistan Football Federation, an institution which, under the Taliban, wouldn’t support women’s football.
That changed last month after Fifa amended its rules to formally recognise the team, allowing the exiled footballers to represent their country.
While it’s now too late for the team to qualify for the 2027 Women’s World Cup in Brazil, they can participate in qualification for the 2028 Olympics in Los Angeles.
Fifa’s decision follows years of lobbying by players, activists and human rights groups and builds on a pilot programme launched in 2025 to organise training camps and friendly matches for the displaced players.
The 23-player squad earlier played in friendly tournaments with Chad, Tunisia, and Libya between October and November 2025.
Their new status enables the Afghan players to wear their country’s name again in official matches, which they have not done since 2018.
“This opportunity means everything to me,” Haidari says. “It goes beyond football, it’s about giving a voice to Afghan women and showing the world that nothing can silence us. Representing my country again is the greatest honour.”
Inside Afghanistan, women are effectively banned from sport, and restricted from formal education, employment and public life.
Fifa’s strategy seeks to navigate this divide. Its programme includes three strands: limited support for women and girls still inside Afghanistan through humanitarian channels; diplomatic engagement aimed at easing restrictions; and direct support for players in exile with training camps, coaching and mental health services, the governing body tells The Independent.
Since players are scattered across the world, Fifa provides training and support to individual players. “As part of the support package Fifa provides, individual coaching plans are developed for players taking part in the selection process, in addition to training and playing opportunities at local clubs.”
The body “funds the overall delivery of team operations for Afghan Women United as part of the dedicated and wider Fifa Strategy for Afghan women’s football”.
“Fifa also provides a support package for all 90 players taking part in the selection process for the matches scheduled for June.”
Matches for Afghan Women United will be organised by its coaching team led by Pauline Hamill and Fifa. “Amongst other factors, player safety is a key area considered for matches and prospective host member associations,” Fifa says.
Haidari says that when they do come together for a game, dressing-room conversations with her teammates are at the same time ordinary and momentous.
“When you are in the dressing room, you just think about playing, and, you see your past, you see your future, you see the next generation, you see everything in that moment, and you see yourself, and it’s a big moment,” she says.
The weight, she insists, is not history but responsibility. “I feel like I have the responsibility to be the voice of Afghan women.”
That sense of purpose is echoed across the squad. Goalkeeper Elaha Safdari describes the team as “a voice for Afghan women and girls who do not have access to basic human rights”, playing not only for themselves but for those left behind.
Although Haidari has seen her family abroad in recent years, she has not been able to return home. She may never. “I still have this fear. Anything can happen in moments,” she says.
“I want to go back to my homeland one day. I have 19 years of memories there, and my friends are still waiting for me. They’re hoping that I can come back one day.”
She avoids framing her decision to be a footballer as political. “Sport has nothing to do with politics. It is just to have our freedom,” she says, “to show women exist.”
In the immediate term, the team is expected to play international friendlies and potential qualification matches for the 2028 Olympics.
For now, progress comes in fragments: a training camp in England, a tournament in Morocco, a first win against Libya after years away from international competition.
Fifa’s recognition has given Haidari and her teammates something they had lost for years: a flag to play under, a name that connects them to a nation.
“My ambition is to compete at the highest level of football and to represent Afghanistan with pride,” she says. “Outside of football, I want to build a career in business and continue supporting women’s rights.”
The meaning of it all comes back to something quieter than politics or policy. “It is about love,” she says. “Love and passion, and showing the world that we are still here.”
