Before the 1917 revolution, Kazakh women enjoyed significant freedoms due to their nomadic lifestyle. Living in the remote steppe, women were responsible not only for managing livestock and households but also for defending their families and property, often with weapons in hand. The Soviet era formalized gender equality, enabling women to become leading producers, scientists, decorated soldiers, and politicians. 

Today, however, these traditions face erosion from two opposing forces: rising consumerism and a growing Arab-influenced Islamization. According to Kazakh political scientist Zamir Karazhanov, women in Kazakhstan are struggling to find their place amid an expanding spiritual vacuum and polarized ideologies.

A Reversal in Feminism

A centuries-old game, Kyz Kuu (“Catch the Girl”), exemplifies the historical freedom of nomadic Kazakh women. The game, rooted in equestrian tradition, involved a female rider gaining a head start before being pursued by a young horseman. If he caught her and took her ribbon, he could propose marriage. If not, the woman would chase and whip the suitor with a kamcha (whip) in front of spectators, a demonstration of both female skill and independence.

During the Soviet period, the roles of Aliya Moldovan and Manshuk Mametova both posthumously named Heroes of the Soviet Union in World War II, underscored female empowerment in Kazakhstan.

In contrast, contemporary Kazakhstan is embroiled in a heated debate over the niqab, a face-covering garment not traditionally worn by Kazakhs. This shift has sparked national concern, culminating in the passage of a June 2025 law banning face coverings in public places.

Declining Representation and Shifting Priorities

Women’s representation in politics and governance has deteriorated, particularly in Kazakhstan’s southern and western regions. Despite officially favorable statistics, political scientist Zamira Karazhanova argues that the state practices only “artificial equality.” Party-imposed quotas for women and youth offer a superficial solution without addressing the systemic barriers to real empowerment.

“To achieve gender equality, we must create genuine opportunities for women to participate in politics and civil service,” said Karazhanova.

Karazhanov notes a broader cultural shift, with young women increasingly drawn to the lifestyle of tokal, unofficial second wives of wealthy men. These figures flaunt luxury and affluence on social media, eclipsing the appeal of education and career development.

“The pursuit of wealthy husbands is becoming a kind of ideology,” Karazhanov said. “Many young women are growing up with no interest in professional growth. They have entirely different ideals.”

The Rise of Foreign Influences

“Islam in Kazakhstan is becoming Arabized,” Karazhanov stated. “This affects not only how women dress, but also how they are perceived and perceive themselves. Religion is becoming a key part of national identity, even if some believers visit the mosque on Fridays and bars on Saturdays.”

Following the collapse of the USSR, Kazakhstan experienced a spiritual vacuum, filled rapidly by imported religious ideologies. Many religious leaders were educated in Arab countries or Afghanistan, bringing with them foreign dogmas that were alien to traditional Kazakh Islam. Karazhanov stressed that Arabization and radicalization are not confined to Kazakhstan, but also affect Russia, Turkey, and other Central Asian nations.

Initially, the Kazakh state underestimated the risks of radicalism. “Only recently have laws been introduced to regulate this space,” Karazhanov noted, criticizing the government’s short-sightedness in the ideological sphere.

The ideological rift is now palpable in society. While some women increasingly retreat into conservative roles, others turn to radical feminism. A provocative feminist protest in Almaty this year, which Karazhanov described as “borderline striptease,” alienated many citizens and highlighted the nation’s disorientation.

“Women no longer know who to emulate: social media influencers, feminist activists, or niqab-wearing neighbors,” he concluded. “Kazakhstan is in the throes of a values crisis.”

The mountains surrounding Almaty captivate not only with their natural beauty and fresh alpine air but also with the legends that echo along their winding trails. Travelers speak of a ghostly woman in white, a towering old man with a chessboard, and a mysterious “Japanese Road” haunted by the spirits of the past. The vistas are breathtaking, yet around every turn, a chilling tale may be waiting.

Urban legends have become integral to the cultural fabric of the Almaty region, shaped by the imaginations of hikers and storytellers alike. But could there be a grain of truth behind these supernatural accounts?

The Almarasanian Maiden

Most Almaty residents are introduced to local folklore during childhood, particularly during overnight camps in the mountain foothills. Beneath the star-strewn sky and beside crackling campfires, counselors often begin the night’s stories with: “Have you heard the tale of the Almarasanian Maiden?”

The best-known legend describes a spectral woman dressed in white, appearing along treacherous mountain passes. But older residents tell a more detailed and tragic version.

According to this tale, a woman once abandoned by her husband in the Zailiyskiy Alatau mountains was driven to madness. In her grief, she killed her two sons, hanging them from birch trees before taking her own life on a third. Struck by lightning but not destroyed, the three birches remain: two standing strong, the third broken but alive. Climbers later erected two crosses beneath them in remembrance.

Since then, sightings of the woman in white have persisted. She is said to either warn travelers of danger or exact vengeance on those who betray loved ones.

Though the story may sound fantastical, real-life tragedies have kept the legend alive. In May 2025, a rockfall in the Alma-Arasan Gorge killed a young woman and led to the trail’s temporary closure for reconstruction.

In 2009, 11 people died in a horrific accident when a truck collided with a bus stop. While the official cause was listed as a heart attack suffered by the driver, witnesses reported that he remained conscious and tried to steer the vehicle moments before impact. His widow later stated that he had no history of heart problems.

The Japanese Road

After Japan’s defeat in Manchuria in 1945, many prisoners of war were sent to labor camps across the Soviet Union, including Kazakhstan. In Almaty, they constructed what is now known as the Japanese Road.

Built under harsh conditions, the road was originally part of a water supply system connecting Big Almaty Lake to the city.

Modern hikers report an eerie atmosphere. Some claim to see ghostly figures, presumed to be the spirits of those who died building the road. These apparitions are seen as ill omens, urging visitors to leave before nightfall.

The White Old Man

Among the most curious legends is that of a ghostly, two-meter-tall old man with a flowing beard, who carries a chessboard. He appears to hikers and shepherds, silently inviting them to play.

Refusing is said to bring bad luck or worse. But those who offer tea and engage in a few friendly games are said to be rewarded, never losing their way and enjoying peace among the mountains.

The origin of this tale lies in reality. The “White Old Man” was a real person: Dadon, a local topographer known for his encyclopedic knowledge, uncanny stamina, and his habit of always carrying a chess set. Over time, stories of his exploits blurred into myth.

Even during his lifetime, rumors of his ghost began circulating. If the spirit of Dadon still roams the mountains, legend holds that he brings only wisdom and good fortune.

The Abandoned Airfield

Beyond the peaks, in the plains of the Almaty region, lies another eerie site: the abandoned airstrip known as Samsy Airport. Once the subject of viral travel blogs, the location now draws urban explorers and film crews intrigued by its post-apocalyptic atmosphere.

Located in the Zhambyl district, the airfield is home to rusting crop-dusting planes and a cracked runway slowly being reclaimed by nature. While it’s easy to locate online, visiting may cost you, local residents posing as security personnel charge travelers up to 4,000 tenge per person for access.

The true reason for the site’s abandonment remains unclear. No official explanation was ever given for the airfield’s sudden closure, nor for the workers’ decision to leave behind expensive equipment.

Was it simply a case of economic decline, or did something more sinister drive them away?