I was born in Kabul, Afghanistan. My childhood was lost between bombs and rockets as my family escaped from city to city in search of safety and stability. My mom and dad were both educators. My dad was also a political activist. From a very young age, I saw how important it was for both of them that their children have the opportunity to learn and grow.
For them education was not only schooling. It was safe spaces that sow the seeds of critical thinking and exploration that grow our minds, and widen our peephole looking into the vastness of the complex world we share. For them, the point of education was to expand our world.
It was no surprise then that they filled our home with books- even when we didn’t have enough money for dinner- we could afford books. They taught us to love learning.
None of us were prepared for the tragedy of losing the right to get an education.
In 1996, the Taliban took over Afghanistan. Their first move was to close schools. Later they opened boys’ schools, but girls’ schools remained locked for six years. My parents couldn’t imagine their daughters- there was four of us then- growing up without access to education.
One early morning, we packed the little we had, and we escaped. We traveled on trucks, corollas, and donkeys until we arrived Pakistan. At the border, we had to pretend to be sick- because the Taliban wanted to prevent people from leaving the country. We waited in shock and fear as they questioned my dad. We looked at them with pleading eyes, until they let us into Pakistan.
Nobody grows up wanting to be a refugee. No one imagines being forced to leave their homes, jobs, friends, neighborhoods, and communities behind and starting over in a land where you are a complete stranger- a second class citizen. Even today, I can’t imagine what it must have felt like for my parents to move away from their entire support systems, so that their daughters could access education. We had to uproot our entire lives, only to have the basic right to education.
Back at home, 70% of girl’s schools were burned down. Some teachers started underground schools to teach other girls reading and writing. Many were punished severely. Most girls couldn’t go to school for six years. Imagine that.
For Taliban, closing girls’ schools was not an accident or a haphazardly decision. It was a conscious, planned, decision because they knew what all oppressive regimes know- to hold back a nation, you have to hold back the women. When women’s lives are limited, and they don’t have the opportunity to live full lives and participate in society, nations fail. They crumble into chaos and violence, and their recovery is far from easy.
But when girls and women have opportunities, when they are allowed the space to be their true selves, flourish, and reach their full potential— their nations flourish too. There is a lot of data about how girl’s education raises GDPs, decreases maternal mortality, contributes to peacebuilding and fighting extremism… but I’ve seen this positive ripple effect in my own life.
The story of education in my family goes way back. Way before the Taliban closed girls’ schools and my family became a refugee family struggling in poverty in Pakistan, my grandmother pioneered education in her family. Despite resistance from many male members of her family and community, she supported my father’s right to education. She saved money to provide for his needs and she sacrificed her own food sometimes so that my dad would have lunch at school.
My father’s village only had an elementary school so when he graduated, he had to walk more than one and a half hours every day to continue his education. His journey looked very similar to that of the young girls who are part of Sacred Valley Project’s program. Whether it snowed or rained, whether it was hot or cold, whether he had proper shoes or not, whether he was hungry or not- he trekked every day through the hills and planes of his villages- until he reached high school- when he was given a scholarship to attend military school in the capital city of Kabul.
My mother’s journey was different. Her mother had passed away when she was little, but her father and aunt who took care of her, were incredibly supportive of her education. She lived closer to the city and was able to attend high school. In fact, my mom and her sisters were among the first cohorts of female teachers in their district.
My mother dreamed of teaching little kids at the local school every day. Walking back and forth with her sisters and even going to university… her dreams were halted by war.
One night, as my mom stood on her rooftop, she watched armed men destroy her local school. They lit the building on fire as a warning to families. If you send your daughters to school, this is what they will be met with. That didn’t stop them.
My mother finished high school while the Mujahidin- the armed men who toppled the Soviet government- ruled the country. Girls’ education was frowned upon. Female teachers and students were punished. Many were kidnapped and raped. For the simple courage of seeking an education. My mother and her sisters wrapped their books in cloth and hit it under their burqas. They pretended to go to the tailor’s shop, or a friend’s house… instead they went to school.
It was my mom and dad’s journey- the risks they took- to get an education- that cemented in my parent’s the importance of doing so. For my mom and dad, being able to read, to write, opened a thousand doors. It helped them imagine a different world- a peaceful world where they wouldn’t fear for their lives and their children go grow up to become whatever it was they dreamed of becoming.
It was because they could imagine that different world that they invested everything they had in our education. It was because of their investment and them challenging us to always seek knowledge that I’m where I am today.
In 2001, my family returned to Afghanistan. My sisters and I had imagined the city our mom and dad had described to us- a bustling city with men and women rushing to work and schools- instead we found a city struggling to rise from the rubble. I remember the first time I went to school in my own country, where I belonged. I remember watching thousands of girls stand in the yard of our local school and wait to be enrolled- we were full of hope, gleeful, and ready to take Afghanistan and the world by the storm.
And many of us have. Some of the girls I went to school with ended up creating their own companies and businesses, others joined non-profits or governmental organizations to bring change. Others decided they wanted to stay at home and were able to raise literate children who would have better lives than them. Some simply became better people- more thoughtful, kinder, loving, and conscious citizens of the world.
I was given the opportunity to seek an education in the United States. Time and time again schools and generous individuals invested in my education. Because of scholarship programs and generous donors, I was able to get my Master’s in Journalism and create a grassroots platform called Free Women Writers for Afghan women to tell their stories. Today this platform reaches more than 100K readers and is actively changing attitudes and mindsets about women’s role in society and promoting sisterhood and solidarity among afghan women.
Because I had the chance to get an education- I have the chance to give back. Last year, I wrote a book for women facing violence at home. Already, dozens of women have told me how the book changed their lives, how it allowed them to see themselves as full human being worthy of love and respect.
And I’ve just gotten started. I am able to dream big and take steps towards my dreams because someone believed in me and funded my education.
Imagine what they’ll be able to do with that education. They might become visionaries for their communities, save lives, or even simply be inspired to live with kindness and generosity and be a role model to others. What I know is that education is a gift that can never be taken back. Our worlds can fall apart. Our countries can fall into chaos. Our presidents can lose their minds… but no one can take away from us what we’ve learned. No one can close our windows and narrow our world, once a book has widened it.
Whether in Afghanistan or in Peru, to bring sustainable change, to end violence against women, to stop the devastating impacts of climate change, to stop boys from picking up guns instead of books- we need to train the girls and women. Educated and empowered women and youth are the future. We are the hope.
Adapted from Noorjahan Akbar’s speech at fundraising event for Sacred Valley Project in Washington, D.C.