Since childhood, I have been very sensitive. I could feel the small things happening around me, and then I would think about them for a long time. I was an anxious soul, and perhaps the reason for this was the circumstances and events happening around me that didn’t seem right to me. My little mind carried a lot of weight.
Why are we different?
Why are we treated differently?
Why don’t we have a home?
Why do we live in a camp?
Why do my friends tell me that this country is not yours, that you are a refugee?
Who am I?
Where is my homeland?
What is my identity?
Why don’t I and my sisters go to school?
Why is there a difference between girls and boys?
Why are sons preferred over daughters?
Why are all the women around me unhappy?
Why do they silently endure every injustice?
Why don’t they raise their voice for their rights?
All these and countless other questions kept me restless.
Whenever I wanted an answer to these questions, my elders would scold me and silence me.

When I insisted on going to school, I was told, “What’s the point of education? You’ll just get married and go to another home. Learn to cook, that’s all you’ll ever need.”

No, no, I will not endure what my mother endured.
The girl inside me screamed.
I know how valuable my place is.
God did not create me to be wasted.
I will study.
I will go to school.
I don’t want to live in these dark times.
I want to defeat these dark times with the light of knowledge.
I made up my mind — no matter what,
I will go to school.

On one side, there was my strong determination,
and on the other side, the society where a girl going to school was considered shameful.
I faced a lot of opposition, I was taunted,
I was called rebellious,
I was called stubborn,
my books were torn,
I was given mental torment.
But I never gave up.
I knew that without education, I could never change the system where women are oppressed,
where being a refugee is a crime,
where people are judged by their color and race.
So I continued my education in extreme poverty.
I studied from my friends’ old books,
they gave me uniforms, bags, and shoes.
But to me, all these things seemed small.
My goal was big,
so none of these problems ever made me give up.

During all this time, I had my father’s support.
He endured the boycott of the entire family for my sake,
but he never stopped me from going to school.
I started writing stories during school hours.
I wrote poetry,
and in my poetry, I highlighted all the issues I saw.
I wrote about the oppression faced by women,
I talked about the devastation of war,
I wrote about the pains of migration.
I mentioned forced marriages, and at other times, the unfulfilled wishes of childhood.
When women heard my poetry, they often cried.
They would say,
“In this poetry, we see our reflection.”
I was continuously criticized by a certain class,
but I never stopped writing.

I was an intelligent student, so when I reached university, I was selected for a German scholarship.
I earned a bachelor’s degree in political science.
Because of my outstanding performance, I was nominated for the gold medal.
I was so happy.
I felt like my destination was near.
Then one day,
I received a phone call,
which I can never forget.
My father had been abducted.
Why?
For what crime?
Who did it?
My father was a teacher,
he taught girls.
Some girls used to come to our home for lessons.
My father was working for girls’ education,
which, in the eyes of some extremists, was an unforgivable crime.
That’s why my father was held in captivity for 24 days.
He was tortured mentally and physically.
I visited the police station every day,
I was fighting my father’s case myself.
I remember,
a policeman looked at me in surprise and said,
“Sit at home,
send your brother; we will talk to him.”
At every point, this society made me feel that women are lesser people.
After continuous effort, running around, and recommendations, my father was freed.
When I saw my father,
his eyes were blindfolded,
his body had marks of wounds,
he was very weak.
My heart stopped for a moment.
He was my father,
the one I loved the most.
When my father met me, he smiled
and asked,
“What was your result?”
I hugged him and said,
“Dad, I ranked first in the entire department.”
This is what I learned from my father
Never give up on your rights no matter how difficult the situation is.
This incident made me very strong.
I made up my mind to dedicate my life to spreading education.
Once again, I was selected for a DAAD scholarship for my MPhil.
Along with that, I am leading a youth club
where we work for education and rights.
Right now, I am working on a project where we are raising awareness about the importance and benefits of mental health among Afghan refugee women.
I am also working on my book,
which will be published soon.
I will play my part in making this world a better place, as much as I can.
All the difficulties I faced made me stronger.
I am the one who will never surrender to evil.
I am the resilient refugee girl.
I saw wrong happening around me,
I endured it,
I fought it,
and in the end,
I decided to change it.

——
Shakila Rehman
MPhil student, University of Peshawar; DAAD and former DAFI scholar