Student and youngest Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai began her campaign for education at age 11 after the Taliban took control of her town in Pakistan and banned girls from going to school. Malala spoke out publicly on behalf of girls and their right to learn — and this made her a target.
At age 15, while returning home on the school bus, Malala was attacked by the Taliban for defending girls’ education. She recovered and continued her campaign to see all girls in school. With her father, Ziauddin, Malala founded Malala Fund, an organisation that champions every girl’s right to 12 years of free, safe, quality education.
Over 130 million girls are out of school today. The reasons girls are out of school — like poverty, war and gender discrimination — differ between countries and communities. Malala Fund is working to break down the barriers that stop girls from going to school.
Malala Fund invests in education advocates in the countries with the most girls out of school. We believe local leaders are best placed to identify the problems girls face in their communities and develop solutions.
We advocate — at local, national and international levels — for resources and policy changes that girls need to go to school. Girls have high goals for themselves — and we have high expectations for leaders who can help them.
We also work to help develop the next generation of young leaders. We believe girls should speak for themselves and tell their parents, teachers and even prime ministers and presidents what they need to achieve their potential. Malala Fund gives girls the tools to advocate for education and equality in their communities and a platform for the world to hear their voices.
When I started Assembly in July 2018, I hoped to create a space for girls like you to speak out; to educate others about issues in your community and celebrate your accomplishments in your fight for equality. But what Assembly became — what you made it into — is so much more than I could have imagined.
It is a community of girls from around the world connecting through story, inspiring one another to work towards a fairer, more equal world. It is a testament to the next generation of female leaders, who face different challenges but understand we are stronger when we work together. The stories we’ve published in Assembly — from over 100 countries and 26 languages to date — are truly amazing to read, but the connections they’ve forged are my favourite part.
In the 2023 print issue, girls from around the world share their thoughts, challenges and accomplishments. Ghana’s top female sports journalist Susan Sarpomaa Owusu-Ansah writes about how she found her voice off the field. Venezuelan student Katty Reyes shares a photo essay about life in her hometown of Mamporal. Three Afghan girls explain how the Taliban takeover has affected their lives and education. And Assembly readers from Bangladesh, Indonesia, Italy, Mexico and South Korea sound off on their
favourite cultural traditions, the last book they read and the lessons they’ve learned from playing sports.
The stories in this issue are a great tool to start conversations in your homes, classrooms or communities about education, equality and youth leadership — see the next page for more details. But don’t forget that while your activism is important, so is taking the time to take care of yourself. On pages 14 and 15, you’ll find advice from young women around the world on how to protect your mental health and well-being while speaking out on the issues you care about.
I hope the amazing stories in this issue inspire you to tell your own! On page 28, you’ll find instructions for how you can share your story with Assembly readers.
Assembly is best when shared between friends, siblings or classmates. Figure out a time to get everyone together to read and discuss — if you can’t meet in person, try connecting over the phone or online. Make sure to provide at least one copy to share among the group (and maybe some of your favourite snacks!).
● How is your life similar to the girls featured in this publication? How is it different?
● What are some of the barriers preventing girls in your community and around the world from going to school?
● What are some of the different ways girls are creating change in their communities?
Decide whether you want to read by yourselves or take turns reading aloud. There are 30 pages full of exciting essays and stories — so you could even meet weekly to finish the whole magazine.
● What are some of the challenges girls face when they speak out? How do they overcome them?
● If you wrote an article for Assembly, what would you write about?
● What did you learn?
● Which article stood out the most to you? Did it inspire you to do anything new?
● If you could give a copy of Assembly to anyone, who would it be and why?
● Have you ever been treated unfairly or felt that someone has underestimated your abilities because of your age, gender, race or anything else?
● Are girls in your community able to make their own decisions about their lives? If not, why do you think that is?
Think of a problem in your community that you see girls face that you’d like to solve. Then, turn to page 14-15 for ideas on how you can speak out on this issue while protecting your mental well-being.
My reporting career began on the field where I played football for my high school team. For me, sports have always been about community. When you play sports, you are always meeting new people which helps take you out of where you were born and introduce you to new viewpoints.
But in my final years of high school I sustained a knee injury and decided to stop playing football. I knew then that I was interested in journalism and that I loved sports, so I thought: “Why not try sports journalism?”
After graduating high school, I attended the Ghana Institute of Journalism. Since then, I have mainly reported on football stories about both the women’s and the men’s teams in Ghana. I spend most of my weekdays in the office writing stories about the league, reporting on the latest news and giving fans a preview of what’s happening in football that week. I especially love it when I get to report on Asante Kotoko, the biggest football club in Ghana. They have the most enthused fans — anything you write about the team, the fans want to
At 23 years old, I feel confident in my ability to report from the front lines of Ghana’s biggest matches. But honestly, it took me a while to find my footing as a sports journalist. In Ghana, there is a lot of stigma against women in sports. Sometimes when I go onto the field, male reporters will look at me like: “Eh? A lady reporter at a men’s game?!” Some of them think we are just hanging around the male footballers because we want to be involved with them romantically. Men in sports media receive more institutional support than women because people feel that they are more capable. They think that ladies complain too much, that we will miss work because of menstrual cramps or become pregnant all of a sudden. They put these assumptions onto women and use them to deny us the opportunities we deserve.
Early on in my career, I let these challenges define me. But then I attended the Africa Women’s Sports (AWS) Summit, a mentorship event for African women in sports led by the Ghanaian sportscaster Juliet Bawuah. Juliet has mentored a lot of young women journalists in Ghana — people look up to her and want to be like her. She taught me that you need to
Because of leaders like Juliet, the system has become more open for Ghanaian women in sports and sports media. The Ghanaian women’s football league is much more competitive today than it was two or three years ago. I love going to the stadium for a women’s match and seeing it filled up with people. You can see how fans are now getting some of the negative stereotypes out of their minds, so when they see a woman playing football it’s not a big deal anymore. It’s normal.
My next great ambition is to become a FIFA intermediary. Intermediaries (or sports agents) represent players and clubs, so if a club wants a player they talk to their intermediary who guides the negotiations with the team for the player. As a reporter, I see so many incredible female players whose talents go to waste because they are mismanaged. So I started wondering, “How can I use my resources to make a difference for these talents?” It’s not just about managing their careers. Sometimes I’ll be reporting on a story and see a very good player, and when I talk to her I realise that she can’t even provide for her basic needs like food or sanitary pads. As an intermediary, I want to see that young women in sports are receiving both the opportunities they deserve and the compensation they need to care for themselves and their families.
Around the world climate change is forcing girls out of school. Droughts, floods, increased exposure to zoonotic diseases and air pollution are exacerbating the inequalities they face, further limiting their ability to learn.
As the window for climate action narrows, young women in Brazil, Ethiopia, India, Nigeria and Pakistan share how climate change is preventing girls in their communities from learning — and what they want to see governments do about it.
"The majority of the economy of my country depends on agriculture, which has been affected by climate-caused flooding and unexpected heavy rainfalls and monsoons. This results in labour that cuts down on girls’ study and school time. I want to see the government strictly checking polluting industries, like mining industries, manufacturing and automotive industries in Pakistan, and shutting them down if their disposal method is hazardous and making climate change worse."
"Due to climate incidents like drought, girls and women in Ethiopia are forced to travel long distances to fetch water. One of the biggest climaterelated problems for women is displacement and the various challenges they face as they seek shelter and employment. I suggest that the government do more to educate girls and help them use their full power to address the climate crisis. Educating girls has a high impact on the country's economy, which means when girls go to school the country’s economy is better equipped to take action against climate change."
"እንደ ድርቅ ባሉ በአየር ንብረት መዛባት ሳቢያ በሚከሰቱ ችግሮች በኢትዮጵያ የሚገኙ ልጃገረዶች እና ሴቶች ረጅም ርቀት ተጉዘው ውሃ ለመቅዳት ይገደዳሉ። ከአየር ንብረት መዛባት ጋር በተያያዘ በሴቶች ላይ ከሚደርሱት ችግሮች አንዱ መፈናቀል እና መጠለያና ሥራ ሲፈልጉ የሚያጋጥሟቸው የተለያዩ ችግሮችም ናቸው። መንግሥት ሴት ልጆችን ለማስተማር እና የአየር ንብረትን ቀውስ ለመቅረፍ ሙሉ ኃይላቸውን እንዲጠቀሙ ለመርዳት የበለጠ እንዲሰራ ሐሳብ አቀርባለሁ። ሴት ልጆችን ማስተማር በአገሪቱ ኢኮኖሚ ላይ ከፍተኛ ተጽዕኖ ያሳድራል፣ ይህም ማለት ሴት ልጆች ወደ ትምህርት ቤት ሲሄዱ የአገሪቱ ኢኮኖሚ ከአየር ንብረት ለውጥ
"Changes in climate cause food insecurity — especially for the rice farmers. Because of this, most school children do not have enough food to eat before or after school. To address these issues, the Nigerian government should take bold, ambitious climate action. They should provide security for farmers and members of the communities so that children have enough to eat, can stay in school and reach their maximum potential."
"Sauyin yanayi da ake samu yana haifar da matsalar ƙarancin abinci – musanman ga manoma shinkafa. Saboda haka, yara ‘yan makaranta da dama ba su da isasshen abincin da za su ci kafin tafiya ko bayan sun dawo daga makaranta. Domin shawo kan waɗannan matsaloli, ya kamata gwamnatin Nijeriya ta ɗauki tsauraran matakai akan sauyin yanayi. Ya kamata a samar da tsaro ga manoma da sauran al’umma domin yara su samu isasshen abinci, su iya zama a makaranta, wanda hakan ne zai ba su damar cin nasara a rayuwa."
"Starting from the Indigenous context in Brazil, the pandemic aggravated school dropout rates as many girls dropped out of school because they were unable to access distance learning. Away from classrooms and in the face of financial difficulties many students had to find a job to help their families, and even though classes resumed on a semi-attendance basis, those students did not return to school. There is now a fight for vaccination, for the reopening of schools, which often cannot secure sanitation safety. There is now a student force across the country that together demand urgent measures for the returning to school."
"Partindo do contexto indígena no Brasil, a pandemia agravou a evasão escolar, muitas meninas desistiram da escola por não terem acesso ao ensino remoto, longe das salas de aula, diante das dificuldade financeiras muitos alunos e principalmente alunas precisaram começar a trabalhar para ajudar suas famílias, e mesmo com o retorno semi-presencial, esses não retornaram às salas de aula, existe agora uma luta pela vacinação, pelo retorno das escolas, que não conseguem garantir a segurança sanitária muitas vezes. Existe agora a força estudantil em todo o país que juntos pedem com urgência providências para o retorno escolar."
"In my community, most of the girls dropping out of school are leaving because of the effects of climate change. Weather events cause crop damage and impact fishing, which causes high seasonal migration and poverty as India is an agricultural country. When this happens, the older family members leave to earn money and all the responsibilities of the house rests on the girls. I would like the government to take serious action about climate change, like making strict rules for factories and industrial estates. The government should also start a climate change curriculum in schools. I want to learn how I can contribute to solving this big issue."
के कारण स्कूल छोड़ने वाली
ज्यादातर लड़कियां यहां से जा रही हैं। मौसम
के प्रतिकूल प्रभावों के कारण फसल खराब
होती है और मछली व्यवसाय पर असर पड़ता है, जिसकी वजह से अत्यधिक मौसमी प्रवास
और गरीबी होती है क्योंकि भारत एक कृषि
प्रधान देश है। जब ऐसा होता है, तो परिवार के बड़े सदस्य पैसा कमाने के लिए वहां से चले जाते हैं और घर की सारी जिम्मेदारी लड़कियों पर आ जाती है। मैं चाहूंगी कि सरकार जलवायु परिवर्तन के बारे में गंभीर कार्रवाई करे, जैसे कि कारखानों और उद्योगों के लिए सख्त नियम बनाना। सरकार को स्कूलों में जलवायु परिवर्तन पाठ्यक्रम की शुरूआत भी करनी चाहिए। मैं जानना चाहती हूं कि मैं इस बड़ी समस्या को सुलझाने में कैसे योगदान दे सकती हूं।"
Before I had the words to express myself, I noticed that the world treated Black girls differently and dark-skinned girls even worse. In 2005, I moved to the United States from Sierra Leone. At my elementary school in Washington, I was the only Black girl in every class until the third grade. Nobody, not my teachers nor my peers, let me forget this. I became that Black girl, a case study for curious White children convinced that I was related to the only other Black person they knew, Barack Obama. I was the Black girl everyone turned to stare at when my second grade teacher taught my class about slavery. My happy grin in school photos belied the discrimination I experienced every day at school. I was Black first and a child second.
In 2009, my family moved to Philadelphia where I attended a predominately Black school. Young and naive, 9-year-old me thought my days of being bullied for my appearance were over. However, a new kind of bullying emerged. It was not the racism I was used to in predominantly White settings, but it was just as insidious. It was something I did not have the language for, yet felt so familiar. It underscored my transformation from that Black girl to that dark-skinned African girl. It was colorism, and it followed me everywhere.
I was darkskinned first, Black second and a child last. I was never allowed to lead with my childhood.
Like a typical bibliophile, I turned to literature to investigate why my complexion did not come with the carefree bliss of childhood and why
adults and children alike were invested in stomping out my light. With Toni Morrison’s “The Bluest Eye,” I arrived at a painful answer. Morrison skillfully captured my feelings of neglect, invisibility and shame within the novel’s protagonist, Pecola Breedlove. Pecola was an 11-year-old dark-skinned Black girl who everyone thought was ugly and ignored. Everyone she encountered was committed to destroying her confidence. She endured ugly systemic treatment — abuse, trauma and extreme poverty — which ultimately drove her to insanity.
I see Pecola in myself and all the Black girls this world has demonized and forgotten. The world is critical and unforgiving of Black girls. Large social justice movements are born out of the deaths of Black boys, yet the world rarely stops to mourn missing and abused Black women and girls. A paradox emerges from our simultaneous erasure and hypervisibility; the world doesn’t see us, yet the world constantly appropriates Black girls’ aesthetics and vernacular. We are only “seen” to the extent to which it benefits others.
This brings me to Ma’Khia Bryant, a 16-year-old Black girl who was fatally shot by a police officer in Columbus, Ohio on April 20, 2021. Ma’Khia Bryant was not a dangerous, knife-wielding “woman,” as many made her out to be. She was a frightened child who tried to protect herself from being jumped by two adults. She was twice failed by the state, a foster child who called the police for help only for them to kill her upon arrival.
In a post on The Darkest Hue, a digital platform I created in June 2020 to combat the systemic
erasure of Black girls, especially dark-skinned Black girls, I investigated the dire consequences of adultification and found that Black children are six times more likely to be fatally shot by police than White children. Not only that, Black girls are more likely to be suspended, expelled and arrested compared to White girls, and adults perceive Black girls ages 5–19 to be less innocent and need less protection than White girls.
In a society that cannot distinguish Black children from Black adults, the future of Black girls is precarious. In a society that privileges spectacle, the perceived invisibility of Black children can be fatal. White supremacy never remembers Black girls but, like muscle memory, it never forgets how to break us. Black girls deserve safety, opportunity, rest and play. Black girls deserve empathy, compassion and protection.
TKisa22-year-oldstudentandanti-colourism advocatefromSierraLeoneandtheU.S.By Saachi Gupta
I was 12 when I first found Taylor Swift's “Love Story.” The song had already been out for four years, but now that I had begun to watch cheesy rom-coms and fall in love with a young Leonardo DiCaprio for the first time, a song about a modern-day Romeo asking me to marry him was exactly the kind of music I wanted. It wasn't long before Taylor Swift became an obsession, and I began to spend hours listening to her songs every night on YouTube.
It was around the same time that I started reading the “Twilight Saga.” As someone who had never been in a relationship, it was inevitable that Edward Cullen would become the object of my affection. I introduced the series to my friends, and soon we were all swooning over the romance of being a 100-year-old vampire. During lunch break every day, we'd find ourselves arguing over what team we were: Edward or Jacob (I’m team Edward, obviously).
My enjoyment of the Taylors (Swift and Lautner) was short-lived, however. Because it was only a few months later that I started doubting these interests. Society told me that singing about boys and break-ups and reading about
love made me “girly,” and that was apparently a bad thing. The hints came from everywhere: from teachers implying that all girls wanted to do was impress boys to distant relatives dismissing dolls as “silly.” The world made it seem like girls with feminine interests were shallow, foolish and immature.
Even though I still adored Taylor Swift, the stereotypes of girls who liked her music made me feel like I had to be a fan in secret. I bought her hit album “1989” without telling any friends and hid it in the back of my cupboard to listen to by myself. I was ashamed of the fact that I would probably still enjoy the “Twilight Saga” if I read it again and would still have a crush on Edward Cullen (despite his toxicity). I gave away my “Twilight” books, claiming I had outgrown them.
Misogyny — prejudice against girls and women — has been a part of the fabric of society for many centuries. It’s almost impossible for girls not to internalise some of this hatred, especially when popular culture often looks down on traditional trappings of femininity. Female protagonists in films like “Another Cinderella Story” — where Selena Gomez only cares about her passion for dance while her evil stepsisters constantly fret over how they look and obsess
over boys — are portrayed as “different from other girls,” which makes them more desirable.
These stereotypes not only pit women against each other but reinforce the notion that femininity is to be avoided at all costs. Girls like me fall victim to this, feeling the need to distance ourselves from other girls and femininity as a whole.
Over the last few years, social media has educated me on feminism and internalised misogyny. During an exchange program in Mexico, I met amazing women who love all of the things I once dismissed as too girly. This experience helped me rediscover my love for Taylor Swift's music and decide that while the “Twilight Saga” is not perfect, it wasn't as bad as it was made out to be.
I came to the realisation that maybe liking these things makes me like other girls — and what is the problem in that? Because the other girls I know are brilliant: They wear high heels and pink dresses and still care about politics. They watch rom-coms, but still argue over LGBTQ+ rights and immigration policies. Why do any of these things have to be mutually exclusive?
In her 2020 documentary, “Miss Americana,” Taylor Swift said, “I want to love glitter and also stand up for the double standards that exist in our society. I want to wear pink, and tell you how I feel about politics. I don’t think those things have to cancel each other out.” It was a full-circle moment, watching my childhood idol address the exact emotions I had felt for so long, take a step back, and say out loud: “Maybe I am like other girls. And what about it?”
I was 6 years old when my mother held my hand and took me to the classroom for the first time. I enjoyed going to school right from the beginning — mostly because they gave us books, biscuits and other school materials. It was a good method not only to attract students to school but also to motivate families to enrol their children.
As I got older, I grew more interested in my lessons and the things that were taught. I became the most active student in the class. I used to stay awake studying at night because I wanted to be the best. I loved competing with others and received many awards for getting good grades.
I faced some challenges when I entered grade 12. My biggest dream was to study medicine at university and I did everything I could to achieve that goal. But I think God had chosen a different path for me, something better. After taking Kankor, the university entrance exam in Afghanistan, I didn't receive the score required to study medicine and was admitted to another science degree instead.
Everything was going well at university, although not as well as it should have been because of the COVID-19 pandemic. Nevertheless, it was a very amazing and exciting time. I went to the library and met new classmates. I joined the students’ union and research organisations. I had plans to get a master’s degree and a Ph.D. I was going to be called a doctor. I was expecting to have a job within a few years. There were challenges — the economic crisis, lack of work, poverty, the existence of ethnic, racial and linguistic prejudices and
gender discrimination. But things were going well and my future was bright.
Now because of the Taliban’s takeover, young women like me have lost all hope. After two decades of being able to live our lives and dream big for the future, all that progress is gone. Our country has not gone back to 20 years earlier; we’ve gone back to centuries earlier. Afghan girls and women aren't able to learn. We can’t work. We don’t have any opportunities. These are the most difficult days of my life. I urge my fellow girls, my people and the world to never forgive the Taliban for what they have done and are doing.
As an Afghan girl living in these conditions, I am calling on the international community and all world powers to do something for my people, particularly us girls and women. World leaders must not recognise the Taliban while they restrict the rights of girls and women. Afghan girls don’t ever want to go back to how things were. We don’t want to receive lashes or remain at home. We want the freedom to dream of becoming psychologists, engineers and journalists — and the opportunity to achieve those dreams.
My message to all Afghan girls in pain is as follows: Please do not tolerate imprisonment and misery. Please know that you are not alone. With resistance and integrity, we stand united. We know our potential and what we’re capable of. And we must never forget that.
*Editor’s note: Aazosh is a pseudonym.
My favourite tradition is the Day of the Dead, where we all remember our loved ones that have already passed away by making what we call an altar. We put some photos of the person we are remembering, the food that person used to eat, flowers and if possible we even add some of the personal stuff. We do this because we believe they come to visit us the night of November 1 and it pleases them if we prepare for their coming. It is my favourite tradition because it is a way to keep in touch with your roots and is spiritually satisfactory.
Hungarian people really like to complain about basically everything (our national anthem is one of the saddest and most complaining ones in the world). While it is really important to be aware of this and to not take part in it all the time, I often find it liberating to vent my problems. It is a great way to release stress.
Eating yeot. It’s a Korean sugar dessert. Hard and chewy, it’s absolutely delectable. I love both watching the making process and eating it myself.
My favourite tradition is Eid, which is an Islamic holiday celebrated at the end of Ramadan, a month of dawn-to-sunset fasting. It isn't cultural, more so religious, but I love the way we Bengalis celebrate it. All the food and going to people's houses. And did I say the food?
I think also that, together with the other human sciences I’ve been studying (psychology, sociology, pedagogy and philosophy) it helped me open my mind and my heart to the whole world.
mind and how it works, how we can positively condition it with the practice of yoga and meditation and the positive results we can achieve in our everyday life with a consistent practice of them.
My favourite subject in school is: anthropology, because thanks to it I had the chance to learn more about the different cultures around the world, their history and about a lot of social themes that news or newspapers rarely (or almost never) talk about.
My dream job is: to become an archaeologist, and more specifically an Egyptologist. I’ve always been fascinated by Ancient Egyptian culture, since when I was a kid and we started learning about it.
The last book I read was: “The Wisdom of Yoga,” by Stephen Cope; it has been a very interesting journey about the discovery of our
In five years, I hope I’m: finally graduated in archaeology, proud of myself and of my studying journey, healthy both physically and psychologically and ready to get my degree specialization in Egyptology.
I love to eat: a tasty pizza with my friends, talking happily about what happens in our lives, or more seriously about social themes
and what happens all around the world. I love sharing my opinion with them while we’re having a lovely lunch or dinner together.
I like reading Assembly because:
it helps me to keep informed about all what’s happening around the world, giving voice to young girls that usually are silenced or neglected. Still today, indeed, the opinion of a young girl is rarely listened to and taken into consideration. Assembly helps us to raise our voice and get listened to!
When 18-year-old Nigerian student Temple began university, she was excited to enrol in commerce classes like economics, financial accounting and office practice. But she found her courses did not prepare her to take on financial responsibilities in the real world. “In school, we didn’t learn about how to save, invest and set up a bank account,” says Temple. “We only learnt topics relating to our subjects — nothing about how to invest or what to invest in.”
Financial literacy — the ability to understand and use financial skills like budgeting and investing — is essential for participating in today’s economy. Yet many young women aren’t learning the information they need to make financial decisions for their futures. “I don’t think schools hold workshops on financial literacy like they do for other topics,” says Gauri, a 15-year-old student from India. “We don’t learn about skills that we would use every day. Even seniors in the 11th and 12th grade tell me that they won’t teach you how to create a bank account.”
In the absence of personal finance education in curriculums, the burden falls on parents to teach their children how to manage their money. “If a mother does not have financial literacy, she won’t be able to teach her children about it,” says Temple.
“My mom is knowledgeable about her finances. She has several savings accounts — including one for when she retires and others for travel and other priorities,” says 17-yearold Yujung, a student from New Zealand. Yujung says her parents’ knowledge of personal finance strategies helped her start planning for the future at a young age. “With help from both my parents, I use my bank account to save up for university or my future in general,” she explains.
Around the world, more women are entering the workforce than ever before. As they make money and participate in the economy, financial literacy ensures they are able to navigate their workplaces, protect themselves from exploitation and build wealth over time. But studies show boys and men have more financial conversations with their parents than girls — a dynamic that influences the careers young women are choosing for themselves. “Our school doesn’t encourage male students to take business classes more,” says Yujung. “Yet, from what I see, most male students are in those classes.”
Gauri and Temple see this effect in the financial industries in their countries too. “Men currently dominate the financial industry in Nigeria,” Temple says. In India, though men and women
are equally represented among finance workers, Gauri says “the highest positions are all male-dominated. Most of the women who have even studied economics or commerce or something related to banking usually are teachers.” Many studies support their observations; in 2014, only 24% of senior managers in businesses were women and in 2018, female-led start-ups in the U.S. gained only 2.2% of the $130 billion in capital invested.
For Gauri, teaching girls about personal finance on equal terms with boys is key to giving them the confidence to manage their money and pursue highlevel careers in commerce. “Having the ability to create a bank account as a young girl makes me feel responsible,” she shares. “A lot of boys in my grade have a bank account and it’s like five out of 100 girls who have a bank account. If there are more girls who have their own bank account, cards or are more financially independent, it would show people that girls are able to create change and stay responsible.”
Closing the financial literacy gap has wide-reaching implications — both for girls and women and the world at large. With better access to financial resources like bank accounts and digital financial services, women can build wealth and participate more fully in the global economy, facilitating economic development — one International Labour Organization study estimates that global economic growth will increase by $5.3 trillion by 2025 if the economic gender gap reduces by 25%.
“If more women had financial education, the community would be more developed than it is now,” says Temple. “For national economic development, women should have financial literacy.”
Mamporal, my hometown in Venezuela, was beautiful before the economic crisis.
But the town is not like it was before. Since the 2013 presidential election, Venezuela has experienced hyperinflation and a drastic economic collapse. Things are super expensive, we cannot find the things we need and there are problems with drinking water, electricity, internet and more. I also come from a very large family, so it is difficult for us to feed ourselves because we cannot find food or medicine because it is very expensive. And, of course, all of that affects my studies. Things are not easy — but I have faith that they will change one day.
I had the opportunity to share my story and what is happening in Venezuela through a photo essay for Malala Fund in collaboration with Studio 1854 and British Journal of Photography. I hope that through these photos, taken by Venezuelan photographer Silvana Trevale, you come to know the truth of the situation in Venezuela — especially for young people.
Power outages
Right now in Venezuela, there are times when the power goes out almost all day because the country's electrical system has not been maintained for years. When this happens you cannot buy anything in the markets, nor can you do school activities. We can only use the books, but unfortunately there are not enough books in schools and they do not have enough information.
Lack of school resources
Regarding my school, it is difficult for us because we do not have access to enough academic resources and the internet. In addition, it is difficult for my family to acquire school supplies such
as notebooks, pencils, markers, crayons, erasers, pencil sharpeners, rulers and computers. These things are very expensive and salaries here are not enough.
Dirty water
The pipes in Venezuela have to be fixed and changed since they are very old and the state has not maintained them. For this reason, the water is dirty. There are times when we have to go to the spring or elsewhere far from home to find drinking water. Schools in Venezuela do not have drinking water either, and there are times when there is no water in the bathrooms.
Not enough food
It is very difficult for my family to be able to buy enough food for us. We get a bag of food from the state every two months. Mainly 11 food products come: two packages of rice, four packages of flour, a package of beans, a package of sugar, a can of sardines and two packages of pasta. In the months when the bag does not arrive, we have to buy food with the money we have.
My hopes for the future
Despite the fact that the situation in Venezuela is like this, I keep my goals in mind and keep working to fulfill my dreams and help my family move forward. We Venezuelans have already learned to value more and to have more gratitude for the things we do have, and I believe that the Venezuela of before will return after this crisis and an even better one at that because we will be a more knowledgeable people.
Mamporal, mi ciudad natal en Venezuela, era una belleza por decirlo así antes no había crisis económica.
Pero el pueblo no está como antes. Desde las elecciones presidenciales de 2013, Venezuela ha experimentado hiperinflación y un drástico desmoronamiento de la economía. Las cosas son súper caras, no podemos conseguir las cosas que necesitamos y hay problemas de agua potable, luz, internet y más. También vengo de una familia muy numerosa, entonces se nos hace difícil alimentarnos porque no se puede conseguir comida ni medicamentos porque es muy costoso. Y, por supuesto, todo eso afecta pues en mis estudios. No son fáciles las cosas, pero yo tengo fé que van a cambiar algún día.
Recientemente tuve la oportunidad de compartir mi historia y lo que está sucediendo en Venezuela a través de un ensayo fotográfico para la colaboración de Malala Fund con Studio 1854 y British Journal of Photography. Espero que a través de estas fotos, tomadas por la fotógrafa venezolana Silvana Trevale, conozcan la verdad de la situación en Venezuela, más que todo la de los jóvenes.
Cortes de luz
Ahora mismo en Venezuela, hay momentos en que la luz se va hasta casi todo el día porque el sistema eléctrico del país no ha sido mantenido durante años.Cuando esto ocurre no se puede comprar nada en los mercados, ni se puede hacer las actividades escolares. Solo podemos usar los libros, pero lastimosamente no hay suficientes libros en la escuela y ellos no tienen la información suficiente.
Falta de recursos escolares
Con respecto a mi escuela, se nos hace difícil como dije porque no tenemos acceso a suficientes recursos académicos y al internet. Además, se nos dificulta a mi familia
la adquisición de materiales escolares como cuadernos, lápices, marcadores, crayones, borradores, sacapuntas, reglas y finalmente la computadora. Estas cosas son muy costosas, y los sueldos aquí no alcanzan.
Agua sucia
Las tuberías en Venezuela tienen que ser arregladas y cambiadas ya que están muy viejas y el estado no las ha mantenido. Por eso, el agua viene sucia. Hay veces que uno tiene que ir al manantial o en otros lados lejos de casa a buscar agua potable. Las escuelas en Venezuela tampoco tienen agua potable, y hay veces en que no hay agua en los baños.
No suficiente comida
Para mi familia es muy difícil poder comprar la comida suficiente para nosotros. Nos llega una bolsa de comida cada dos meses. Mayormente vienen 11 alimentos: dos paquetes de arroz, cuatro paquetes de harina, un paquete de frijoles, un paquete de azúcar, una lata de sardinas y dos paquetes pasta. En los meses en que la bolsa no llega, tenemos que comprar comida con el dinero que tenemos.
Esperanzas para el futuro
A pesar de que la situación en Venezuela es así, tengo presente mis metas para poder seguir adelante, cumplir mis sueños y sacar a mi familia adelante. Los venezolanos ya hayamos aprendido a valorar más y a tener más conciencia, y creo que después de esta crisis no va a volver la Venezuela de antes, si no una mejor que antes porque seremos personas entendidas.
Your activism is important — but so is taking the time to take care of yourself. Protecting your mental health and well-being ensures you have the emotional energy and capacity to continue speaking out on the issues you care about for months and years to come. With input from other young women around the world, we put together this list of ways you can look after your mental health and well-being while speaking out on the issues you care about.
As a young woman, your activism is probably just one of the many responsibilities on your plate. You have your schoolwork, your family obligations, your social commitments and your other hobbies and activities. Balancing all these priorities can be challenging, especially when technology can make it feel like you’re on call 24/7.
Setting boundaries in your activism affords you the space and permission to take time away from this work and focus on other aspects of your life. Start by making clear to the people you work with what times you are and aren’t available for meetings or to respond to emails — and stick to it! If someone tries to schedule a meeting outside your working hours, remind them of your schedule and ask that they respect it.
Around the world, young women like you are challenging injustices in your communities and leading the fight for education and equality. This work can be invigorating, but it can also be draining. Ongoing concern about your cause and your community, discrimination because of your gender, race, age or one of your other identities, challenges balancing your advocacy with your academic and personal commitments and many other aspects of speaking out can take a toll on your mental health and well-being.
As an activist, it can be tempting to agree to every opportunity that could help advance your cause. But saying yes all the time can leave you feeling exhausted and overextended. It can also prevent you from prioritising what is important to you — both in your activism and in your personal life.
Learning to say no is a necessary tool. Before agreeing to any new project, event, speaking engagement or opportunity, figure out if it’s worthy of your time. Assess the potential impact of the engagement and analyse whether or not what they’re asking of you is realistic in the given timeframe, if you’re being adequately compensated for your efforts and if you’re able to balance this with your other commitments.
Staying attuned to the news and conversation on social media can feel like a 24/7 job — and it can also lead to faster burnout. You may not realise until you step away the ways social media is affecting you and your mental health. Logging off social media for a bit allows you to focus on yourself, your ideas and your priorities, while also freeing up a lot of time. If a digital detox sounds difficult, start by taking small steps. Set usage limits on certain apps or remove notifications altogether. If it’s safe to do so, try going somewhere without your phone or put your phone in an inaccessible place in your bag while you’re out, allowing you to enjoy some screen-free time. If you’re planning a prolonged social media break, let your followers know what you’re doing, why and when you’ll be back.
Social change can take a (really) long time. That’s why it’s important to set realistic goals and acknowledge small wins along the way. It’s important to distinguish between your mission and the goals that will get you there. Your mission is the large-scale change you’re trying to achieve as an activist. Your goals are a series of
It can feel like there’s never a good time to take time off from your activism. You might feel guilty stepping away from your work when there’s so much to do and so much progress to make. But working for prolonged periods without a break is bad not only for your psychological and physical health, but also for your activism. The more tired and burnt out you feel, the less effective and productive you will be. How much time off you need looks different for each person. Maybe an hour off at lunch for a walk or a day without any responsibilities or commitments will restore you. Maybe you need a week off or a longer term break from your work in order to feel like yourself again. Be honest with yourself and what you need to replenish your energy.
small, specific and realistic steps that will you achieve your mission. Acknowledging these victories not only makes you feel good — but it also enhances your motivation and keeps you engaged in your cause.
Self-care is not selfish, it’s about self-preservation. You are taking care of yourself, which then allows you to better take care of others. Sometimes self-care can look like skincare and staying hydrated. Sometimes it looks like journaling, developing hobbies outside of your activism or seeing a therapist. Figure out what brings you joy.
A) catching up on your to-beread list or favourite show
B) finishing an art project you’ve been working on
C) going on a trip with friends to a new city
D) enrolling in a martial arts class, just for fun!
A) observant
B) resourceful
C) empathetic
D) athletic
A) reading (and rereading!) the textbook by yourself
B) writing a study guide by hand — colour-coded of course!
A) songwriter
B) drummer
C) background singer
D) dancer
A) taking yourself for a picnic with a book
B) cooking your favourite meal from scratch
C) throwing a big party with all your friends and family
D) enjoying the nature views at a national park
Mostly A's:
You find joy in quiet moments and feel recharged after spending time alone. Try setting aside 15 minutes a day to read a chapter of a book, write in your journal or meditate.
Mostly B's: Hands-on activities help ground you in the present moment. Try cooking an elaborate recipe, knitting something for a loved one or practising (or picking up!) an instrument.
C) with your classmates in a study group
D) in 30 minute intervals, with walking breaks in between
Mostly C's:
You feel happiest when you’re being social. Try calling a friend you haven’t talked to in a while, organising a study group with your classmates or treating your siblings to ice cream.
Mostly D's:
Fresh air and physical exercise help rest your mind and make you feel refreshed. Try taking a walk outdoors, signing up for a sports team or enjoying a picnic in a local park.
When I was just 13 years old, I started to hear that some of my classmates were making negative comments about my body and weight. They made me feel completely embarrassed about the way I look. I started to believe that if I had the body most of the girls at my school had, I would finally fit in. So I made a new year’s resolution to lose weight by the end of the year. By August, it had developed into an eating disorder.
It was beyond scary. My life could not go on the way it once did. Now everything I did was based on losing weight and the emptiness I felt whenever I looked at myself in the mirror and saw that I still didn’t look the way I desired. It eventually got to a point where my parents and I realized I needed to reach out for professional help.
Having been through recovery, I know now that all of these erroneous thoughts about my body were created by the devouring monster called body dysmorphia (or BDD), a mental health problem where a person is so upset about the appearance of their body that it gets in the way of their ability to live normally. Researchers estimate that about 2% of people around the world experience BDD, and the disorder most often begins around the age of 12 or 13.
Nobody should feel there is something wrong with their body at the age of 13. But around the world, girls are deeply affected by the constant pressure and impossibly high standards that the world puts on them to have a “perfect body.”
From a young age, we hear comments about how imperfect our bodies are and how we should do something to “fix” them. These types of comments entirely affect how girls see themselves, and can result in the development of an eating disorder and/or BDD.
In some families and communities, eating disorders are still considered an out-ofboundaries or taboo subject, making it harder for girls who are experiencing them to muster up the courage and speak up about what they are going through. When I finally mustered up the courage to open up about my struggles with an eating disorder to some of my closest friends, some of them opened up about theirs too — for the first time ever. So many young people keep their struggles a secret due to the lack of safety, awareness and empathy our communities have around this topic.
That’s why it’s so important for girls in this situation to have access to safe and understanding spaces where they can share about their struggles and access resources for help. Schools should make space for student groups created by eating disorder survivors who are now willing to help other people going through the same thing and provide access to a hotline for students who need immediate help. I’d also like to see schools everywhere take action to educate all students about body dysmorphia and eating disorders through classes or monthly seminars. This will help build a culture of understanding and make schools a place where students feel safe opening up.
Let’s keep creating awareness about body dysmorphia and eating disorders by sharing information with our families and on social media. Let’s welcome anyone and everyone who feels moved to talk about their struggles, let them know they are no longer alone and encourage them to seek professional help. Let’s constantly remind them how worthy they truly are — no matter their weight, shape or size.
By María Fernanda María Fernanda is a 16-year-old student from Mexico.Since birth, I have been suffering from an illness called elephantiasis — more commonly known as the elephant disease — which causes my legs to swell up to elephant-like proportions. When I was 10 years old the doctor had to amputate one of my legs because it had swollen up to 50 kilograms.
Growing up, it was difficult to manage elephantiasis. I couldn’t go out much and live the way other girls in my community would live. I couldn't go play with friends. I couldn’t go to the market or visit relatives and meet people. I couldn’t walk by myself. It all made me feel helpless. Everywhere I went, people would look at me with pity, which made me feel bad. I wished they would have shown empathy but instead they laughed and taunted.
Despite all my suffering, I never gave up hope and never lost my desire to pursue an education. I wanted to do something for myself. I wanted to be independent and one day be in a position where I could support myself financially. I knew education was the path to achieving those dreams. I wanted to show girls who faced obstacles like me that those challenges didn’t have to define them.
However, it was very difficult for me to attend classes every day because of my heavy leg. I couldn’t walk and it was painful to move. I didn’t have a motorized chair to help me move. As a result, I spent most of my days studying at home. In eighth grade, I switched to private education at home because I couldn’t go to school regularly. I continued my classes at home and even though I faced more barriers — like my leg amputation and the continuous spread of my disease
— I persevered and managed to pass intermediate school with good results.
It wasn’t always easy. I experienced taunts, ill wishes and jokes from neighbors, relatives and friends. I often felt stuck and helpless. My disease is very painful, made worse by the fact that others made me feel unwanted. There were times I felt like giving up but the encouragement and support of my family — particularly my sister — gave me hope. I also drew strength from my favorite class Islamiat (Islamic studies), which helped me trust God that I am not alone.
I am now a teacher at a private school and I have the honorable job of educating the future generations of our country. My teachers encouraged me throughout my academic career. They built my confidence through counseling. One teacher in particular, Ambreen Noor, used to guide me and motivated me to believe in myself and not give up. I wanted to provide other students with that same support.
As a teacher, my goal is to create an inclusive environment where every student feels welcomed. I want students with disabilities to be able to study and enjoy school. I want students with disabilities to feel comfortable being themselves and to know they have the ability to make a positive difference in their own life and in their communities as well.
But it’s not up to just teachers to support students with disabilities. To create an inclusive environment for students with disabilities, the Pakistani government needs to provide schools with financial support
so that they have enough resources to support every student and their different learning needs. Leaders should create awareness campaigns about people with disabilities so that no one taunts us, hurts us or makes us feel bad. In order for students with disabilities to succeed at school, they need to feel safe and comfortable around their peers.
With time my medical condition has gotten worse and I can’t go out much. I’ve transitioned from going to school to providing home tutoring for my students instead. But regardless of whether I’m teaching in a classroom or in my home, my objective is the same: to inspire and support my students. I hope the young people I teach are inspired by my journey and experiences. I hope that they see I was able to complete my education despite the odds and that they can too.
When leaders discuss the effects of the climate crisis, they often overlook one devastating consequence: Climate change is driving girls out of school.
Malala Fund estimates that if current trends continue, by 2025 climate change will be a contributing factor in preventing at least 12.5 million girls from completing their education each year. To address this issue, first it’s important to understand it. Here are six ways that climate change affects girls’ education:
Around the world, girls are the first to leave school during climate crises in order to help ease the burden of scarce household resources. Like many weatherrelated disasters, droughts will happen more frequently as global temperatures increase and impact the Earth’s water cycle.
Girls and women in low- and lower-middle-income countries often have to travel long distances — sometimes up to eight hours — to collect clean water for their families. This household task ends up taking girls out of school during climate-related weather events. For instance, approximately 70% of children who dropped out of school during drought in Botswana were girls.
Lack of menstrual health products and period stigma keep millions of girls out of school — and menstrual health becomes an even more pressing issue with climate change. For instance, during a drought in India, water hand pumps dried up in a majority of the schools in Madhya Pradesh. This restricted the number of water, sanitation and hygiene facilities available to girls, making it difficult for girls to maintain menstrual health in school.
Did you know that four out of every five people displaced by climate change are female?
And girls are much less likely to reenrol in school than boys following a climate-related event. In 2010, heavy monsoons led to devastating floods that destroyed 11,000 schools in Pakistan. Once schools reopened, fewer girls reenrolled than boys.
Findings showed that a group of 61 mobile schools built in Kenya following a drought primarily supported boys’ education and failed to address the fears that many girls and their families have that prevent girls from going to school.
COVID-19 has had devastating effects on girls’ education. Across low- and lower-middle-income countries, researchers at Malala Fund found that as many as 20 million more secondary schoolaged girls could be out of school after the pandemic. This is just one example of an increasing number of zoonotic diseases — illnesses spread from animals to humans — taking hold as human activity destroys wildlife habitats and forces animals into greater contact with people.
"Throughout my life, I have always been an active person, which has been a significant complement to my academic career. However I have also had a rough time with injuries, which has made me stronger in the sense that I do not punish myself for it, I learn from the experience and work consistently to be better. That’s what I do with all the activism that I am currently doing, when something does not work out, I look for other ways to create an impact."
"Don't be afraid to fall, everyone fails at something. Just work hard and trust the process because nothing worth having comes easy. Believe me, one day you'll thank yourself for never giving up."
Favourite subject: physical sciences; one of the subjects I am best at.
My dream job: pedeatric oncologist. I believe a child’s life cannot be restricted by cancer and I am willing to change that.
If I had superpowers I’d choose: travelling into the future. I’d travel in time to my adult years to see how I'd handle issues of the world, mainly the ones that restrict us from being our greatest.
Something not all people know about me:
I love to dance during my spare time.
Last movie I watched:
"I was never the best in sports at school. But one thing sports has taught me is that losing a match or a competition is not the end of the world. You can always try again and again. Winning is a great thing but having the courage to participate in a competition and giving your best is what matters the most."
"Focusing your energy on yourself, as the only thing you can control is you. One of my netball coaches told me, ‘We’re not here to win, we’re here to just do the best we can do, and have a good game.’ This made me realise that instead of focusing on winning, I should focus on what I can do. (We did win that game though!)"
“The Hate U Give.” It educated me about gun violence and police brutality in the U.S.
I’m looking forward to: having a fruitful academic year.
I love to eat:
Tripe and pap. Tripe, commonly known as “Mogodu,” is a known meat in South African homes that contains edible lining from the stomachs of various farm animals. Pap is a kind of porridge made from maize meal and can be cooked, runny, soft or stiff. Tripe can be eaten in various side dishes, but pap is great.
I love reading Assembly because:
It’s an opportunity to hear the stories of girls and women in different parts of the world.
Unlike many children who dream of becoming a doctor from a young age, I never saw myself studying medicine simply because I never thought it possible.
I was born with profound hearing loss in both ears and could hear the world only with the help of machines. I had not seen, read or even heard about a doctor with disabilities so I (mistakenly) believed that medicine wasn’t an option for me.
The first time I realized that I could become a doctor occurred when my mother returned from a parentteacher meeting with my science teacher. She shared that my science teacher had suggested I consider a career in the field as my critical thinking skills combined well with my sensitive personality. “Do you want to become a doctor?” she asked me.
It was then that medicine started to seem like a conceivable career path to someone with hearing loss like me. I felt like I could finally be the change I wished to see in the world and leave a legacy of kindness behind — especially kindness towards the people who society most often overlooks.
I received my cochlear implants at the age of 7 and 10 years old, which made spoken communication much easier. Since childhood, I only spoke English after the doctor told my parents to bring me up on one language because two or more would interfere with my development. Subsequent
research has proven this to be a myth and many young cochlear implantees have been multilingual since childhood — but I was not taught to speak my mother tongue, Hindi. Growing up in Dubai, I often remained oblivious in my own fantasy world at the family dinner table while everyone chatted away in Hindi. This disconnection from my country and culture deepened with time.
In school, however, I thrived. At my international school, I used to sit in the front of the class and gave my teachers an FM microphone to ensure that I heard each instruction clearly. I eventually graduated from the International Baccalaureate Diploma Programme with a total of 41/45 points — one of the highest scores possible.
I decided to travel back to my motherland to study medicine. However, moving to India and learning to speak the language while balancing a grueling academic schedule was difficult. Listening fatigue left me extremely exhausted at the end of the day, having spent the entire time trying to decode conversations. I constantly struggled with subtle pronunciations of words and most of the time felt unheard, misunderstood or voiceless.
When the pandemic hit and masking became commonplace, it felt like I had to contend with yet another obstacle on my path to becoming a doctor. For someone like me who has relied on facial cues and lip reading — especially while learning Hindi — communication during the
COVID-19 crisis was a challenge. Voices were muffled by face masks and asking someone to remove their mask was not viable, so I either overworked my ears or withdrew into myself.
At this point in time, I came across HearBuds, a group of fellow cochlear implantees and hearing aid users who wear their hearing loss identity proudly like a badge of honor. Instead of helping me conform, they encouraged me to remain unique and advocate for myself and others.
With their support and my own determination, I graduated from medical school with decent fluency in Hindi and began my doctor of medicine and master of science (MD/MS) in Obstetrics and Gynaecology at Lady Hardinge Medical College, one of the top medical colleges in India. In the future, I plan to set up a community to support doctors in India with disabilities and advocate for our rights. Doctors with disabilities bring a unique understanding of and perspective on their patients’ needs and priorities. By demanding access and accommodation in medical colleges, we not only represent ourselves and our hearing loss identity, but we can also encourage patients to advocate for themselves.
बहुत से बच्चों के विपरीत जो
छोटी उम्र से ही डॉक्टर बनने
का सपना देखते हैं, मैंने खुद
कभी डॉक्टरी की पढ़ाई करने
के बारे में नहीं सोचा क्योंकि मुझे
नहीं लगता था कि ऐसा संभव है।
मैं दोनों कानों में गहरे बहरेपन
के साथ पैदा हुई थी और केवल
मशीनों की मदद से ही दुनिया
को सुन सकती थी। मैंने कभी भी
विकलांग डॉक्टर के बारे में देखा, पढ़ा या सुना नहीं था, इसलिए मैंने (गलती से) मान लिया कि डॉक्टरी
की पढ़ाई मेरे लिए नहीं है।
पहली बार मुझे तब एहसास हुआ कि
मैं डॉक्टर बन सकती हूं जब मेरी मां
मेरे विज्ञान के अध्यापक के साथ
पेरंट-टीचर मीटिंग से लौटी। उसने
बताया कि मेरे विज्ञान के अध्यापक
ने सुझाव दिया था कि मैं इस क्षेत्र
में करियर बनाने का सोचूं क्योंकि
मेरे संवेदनशील व्यक्तित्व के साथ
मेरे आलोचनात्मक सोच कौशल
अच्छी तरह से संयोजित है। "क्या तुम
डॉक्टर बनना चाहती हो?" उन्होंने
मुझसे पूछा।
यह तब हुआ जब मेरे जैसे बहरेपन
वाले व्यक्ति के लिए डॉक्टरी की
पढ़ाई एक सोचने-योग्य करियर की
तरह लगने लगी थी। मुझे ऐसा लगा कि
मैं आखिरकार वह बदलाव बन सकती
हूं जो मैं
दुनिया में देखना चाहती हूं
और दया की विरासत को पीछे छोड़
सकती हूं — विशेष रूप से उन लोगों
के लिए दया जिन्हें समाज अक्सर
नजरअंदाज करता है।
मैंने 7 और 10 साल की उम्र में
अपने कॉक्लियर इम्प्लांट प्राप्त
किए, जिससे बातचीत बहुत आसान
हो गई। बचपन से, मैं केवल अंग्रेजी
बोलती था क्योंकि डॉक्टर ने मेरे
माता-पिता से कहा था कि मुझे एक
भाषा पढ़ाएं क्योंकि दो या दो से
भाषाएं मेरे विकास में रुकावट
सकती हैं। बाद के शोधों ने इसे
अंकों में से एक। मैंने डॉक्टरी पढ़ने के लिए अपनी मातृभूमि वापस जाने का फैसला किया। हालाँकि, भारत जाना एक सांस्कृतिक झटका था और कठिन शैक्षणिक कार्यक्रम को संतुलित करते हुए भाषा बोलना सीखना कठिन था। सुनने की थकान मुझे दिन के अंत में बेहद थका देती थी, और पूरा समय बातचीत को डिकोड करने की कोशिश में लगता था। मैं शब्दों के सूक्ष्म उच्चारण के साथ लगातार
संघर्ष करती रही और ज्यादातर
समय अनसुनेपन, गलतफहमी या
आवाजहीनता को महसूस करती थी।
जब वैश्विक महामारी का प्रकोप
हुआ और मास्क लगाना आम
बात हो गई, तो ऐसा लगा कि मुझे
डॉक्टर बनने की राह में एक और
बाधा से जूझना होगा। मेरे जैसे
किसी व्यक्ति
इम्प्लांटीज और हियरिंग एड उपयोगकर्ताओं का एक समूह है, के संपर्क में आई जो अपने बहरेपन की पहचान को सम्मान के बैज की तरह गर्व से पहनते हैं। मुझे अनुरूप
बनाने में मदद करने के बजाय, उन्होंने मुझे अद्वितीय बने रहने और अपने और दूसरों का समर्थन करने के लिए प्रोत्साहित किया।
उनके समर्थन और मेरे दृढ़ संकल्प
के साथ, मैंने 2020 में हिंदी में अच्छे प्रवाह के साथ मेडिकल स्कूल से ग्रैजुएशन पूरा किया। इस साल मैं, भारत के शीर्ष मेडिकल कॉलेजों में से एक, लेडी हार्डिंग मेडिकल कॉलेज में प्रसूति और स्त्री रोग (Obstetrics and Gynaecology) में डॉक्टर
ऑफ मेडिसिन और मास्टर ऑफ
साइंस (MD/MS) की पढ़ाई शुरू
करूंगी। मैं भारत में विकलांग डॉक्टरों
और हमारे अधिकारों का समर्थन
करने के लिए एक समुदाय बनाने की भी योजना बना रही हूं। विकलांग
डॉक्टर अपने रोगियों की जरूरतों
और प्राथमिकताओं की एक अनूठी समझ और दृष्टिकोण को सामने लाते
हैं। मेडिकल कॉलेजों में एक्सेस और अकोमोडेशन की मांग करके, हम न केवल खुद का और अपने बहरेपन की पहचान का प्रतिनिधित्व
करते हैं, बल्कि
हम मरीजों को
उनके खुद के लिए
वकालत करने के
लिए प्रोत्साहित भी
कर सकते हैं।
The last day I found myself a schoolgirl, I saw in the mirror of our hallway a girl with a surprised smile and glasses with a large frame wearing my blue uniform. She was very happy.
After sitting for her last exam, she was supposed to go to a restaurant with her friends to celebrate the hard work they had endured during the two weeks of exams.
On 15 August 2021, Taliban leaders shut secondary school gates for millions of Afghan girls, making Afghanistan the only country in the world that forbids girls’ education. This ban nearly doubled the number of out-of-school girls at the secondary level.
Below, three Afghan students share anonymous essays reflecting on their lives under the girls’ education ban.
In a few months I will be one year older, and I am more disappointed than ever. Since the Taliban took over Afghanistan and forbade us from going to school, girls like me have had to deal with the daily routine of adolescence without the excitement of life as a student. When I think about the future, no precise or clear picture can be seen. When I wake up in the morning I find no motivation to get out of bed. Every day passes like the day before; suffocatingly monotonous and boring.
All I want right now is to go back to school. I feel eager to go back to my chair and desk by the classroom window and be part of a happy and noisy group. I desperately miss the mischief and jokes of our class clown and the girl who always arrives late and asks a lot of questions between lessons.
I miss wearing my uniform, going on adventures, laughing, walking freely in the evenings, smiling at my friends, writing and asking questions. As Afghan girls our dream is, simply, to live.
Girls and women in Afghanistan have been deprived of a secondary education. This has affected our lives in many different ways. We feel our year has been wasted; instead of growth, many girls have lost their hopes in achieving their dreams.
We, the girls and women of Afghanistan, have repeatedly called for an end to this oppression.
This is a sentence which is now heard from millions of Afghan girls because we have not been able to return to our secondary schools since the Taliban took over Afghanistan on August 15.
Even if girls’ schools reopened immediately, our time away from the classroom has caused serious harm to our futures. Being out of school puts girls at a higher risk of child marriage as families resort to marrying off their daughters amid the worsening economic crisis. Once engaged or married, many girls are compelled to drop out of school forever. Some girls were supposed to
graduate from high school this year and were preparing for the university entrance examination, but learning loss during this period has forced them to put these dreams on hold.
Despite the difficulties we are facing I am not hopeless, because I hear beautiful things from many hearts in and outside of my country who still believe in a brighter future for Afghanistan’s girls. This situation in my country is one of those moments when we have the ability to influence history for the better.
The international community has left the people of Afghanistan to fight for our own rights. It’s time they fought alongside us and instead of interfering in our internal affairs.
Editor’s note: Serene, Yalda Popala and Matia are pseudonyms.
Now when I think of that day, it seems a distant memory.
Known for her sweeping watercolours, Palestinian artist Malak Mattar is fast becoming a household name. But when Malak started painting at 14 years old, she was hesitant to sell her art. “I felt too attached to my artworks,” the artist shares. “They were not only a part of me, but they were me.”
Now, Malak understands her notoriety as an opportunity to turn attention towards the country she loves and the issues — and injustices — her community faces. We spoke to Malak about life for artists in the Gaza Strip, what it’s like to paint through conflict and using art to honour her homeland and the Palestinians who came before her.
Marielle Issa (MI): What is your first memory of making art? Malak Mattar (MM): I started making art when I was 14 years old. I was surviving the third Israeli attack on my city for 52 days and I saw my neighbor getting killed and [her body] recovered from the rubble of her destroyed house. I was very overwhelmed with feelings of fear, anxiety, lack of sleep and sense of safety. I went into my room to find a way I can release my emotions and distract myself from thinking of being the next victim. I found a watercolor that I received in my school as an award of high marks and I started drawing and sketching in white papers.
When I started, I had no clue artwork could be sold. I felt too attached to my artworks as they were not only part of me, but they were me. Shipping my first drawing to my friend was a mixed feeling of happiness that I can buy more art material from my own money but also sadness to ship my drawing with no hope to see it again as traveling from Gaza was and still is quite difficult.
MI: What is the art scene in Gaza like?
MM: The art scene in Gaza is diverse and each artist has their own style to paint their surroundings. As a young woman and as an artist, I had less support and recognition in my city than other male artists and that was one of the reasons I became a feminist. The type of comments I received is that women should not paint politics. Women only paint decorative paintings that are beautiful to the eyes but with no political or social dimension.
MI: What are some of the markers of “Palestinian art”?
MM: Palestinian art changes with politics and historical events, but the main marker is how artists respond to these events by documenting what they lived and witnessed. I, as a four attack survivor, have documented how I felt and the damage around me after each attack. Younger generation of artists create contemporary art that has political messages using installations and sculptures. Historically, Palestinian art often incorporates symbols of doves, keys, olives, oranges and embroidery.
MI: In what ways has Palestine influenced your paintings?
MM: Palestine is the place I was inspired by the first art piece I saw, the place I started painting in and where I grew up with a family who supported me in my journey. The struggles and the injustice I have witnessed in my life in Gaza inspired me to advocate for Palestine and Palestinian women through storytelling. My message that I hope to communicate with the world is compassion and humanity; how though many people can be individualists and living in different parts of the world, art has the power to unite us and reminds us of our humanity and vulnerability.
1. You And I
2. When Peace Dies, Embrace It, It Will Live Again
Assembly publishes original work by girls, for girls. We want to feature you in our next issue!
We’re open to however you want to express yourself — essays, photos, illustrations, videos, poems or something else we haven’t thought of yet. Email assembly@malalafund.org with your pitches or visit assembly.malala.org/submit.
We can’t wait to meet you.
