FutureSheLeaders (13)
Just 19, yet her story carries the depth of a lifetime. There was a day when doctors said she wouldn’t survive…
But a simple ice cream became a miracle – bringing her back to breath, to hope, to light.
Today, Fatima shares that “miracle” with other girls – not in the form of an ice cream, but as the power of finding their own voice.
She says: “When the whole world tries to silence you, remember – there is a force within you strong enough to move mountains.”
This is the story of a girl who chose not just to live, but to become the voice of life and leadership for the next generation.
FutureSheLeaders – a journey of inspiration, hope, and the rising voices of young women.
Royesh: Fatema Jan, greetings to you – and to your courage! You came all the way from Sakhi Camp to the Naji Education Center just to join the FutureSheLeaders program.
Fatema: Greetings to you too, dear teacher, and to everyone watching. I hope you are all well and healthy. Yes, that’s right – I came from Sakhi Camp to Aliabad to be part of this FutureSheLeaders interview with you.
Royesh: Today is August 15. By the time this episode is released, about a week will have passed. But as I reviewed your life story, I felt that your journey is deeply symbolic – and you are a perfect choice for this episode, especially as we reflect on the meaning of August 15.
First, tell me this: the distance from Sakhi Camp to Aliabad – where you take part in the Peace on Earth Game, the Empowerment program, and Cluster Education – how long is the way? And as a young woman, just 17, 18, or 19, how do you make this journey every time?
Fatema: The road is long, but it takes determination to come all the way from Sakhi Camp to Aliabad. There’s no direct transport to this side. If we take a shared taxi, it goes straight to the city, not toward Aliabad. Renting a private car would cost too much.
So, I usually get off near the university and walk the rest of the way to Aliabad. By car, it’s about half an hour, but walking takes much longer. The first time, it took me almost one hour and forty minutes on foot. It felt endless back then – but now I’ve gotten used to it. These days, I can make it in about forty minutes.
Royesh: How do you cover a one-hour-and-forty-minute distance in just forty minutes now? Do you run, or have you found a shortcut?
Fatema: Not really running – but I’ve learned to walk much faster. My steps are quicker now. It’s the same distance; I just cover it at a faster pace.
Royesh: The distance from Sakhi Camp – especially when you walk it alone – is more than just a road; it’s a journey of life. You must have a lot of time to think about yourself, your dreams, and the long path ahead. What goes through your mind on these walks?
Fatema: I remember the first day I decided to walk. I got off the taxi and suddenly remembered that I had an Empowerment session that day. I hadn’t been able to join it live, so I put it on my phone and listened with my earphones while walking. The session lasted about 45 minutes.
I was completely focused when suddenly a car stopped beside me, and the driver waved, inviting me to get in. I got scared and ignored him, just kept walking without saying a word. I kept walking and walking; that day was really hectic.
A little later, another young man on a motorbike stopped and said, ‘Your way is long, come sit, I’ll take you.’ I politely refused and said I was fine walking.
I kept listening to the session until it finished – and before I knew it, I had already passed the university road and was close to Aliabad. That moment, I felt so happy and proud of myself. My fear disappeared. I walked the last 15 minutes and reached the center.
I saw my friend, we hugged, greeted each other, and rushed into the classroom – but I was 15 minutes late.
It was a math class that day. The teacher asked why I was late, and there was a bit of tension in the room. He didn’t know how long my journey was or that I had gone home earlier because I was upset and tired.
I briefly explained the situation to him, though it wasn’t the best moment to talk. Once he understood, he allowed me to stay. We continued with the lesson, and the class moved on.
That day was full of challenges, but it also taught me something important: the road is hard, especially for girls like me. Most passengers from Sakhi Camp are men – very few women travel this way.
On Fridays or Saturdays, when I come to Aliabad, I often have to rent a private car. If I don’t, I have to wait until enough passengers gather. Sometimes I sit and wait, hoping for another woman to come so we can travel together.
Sometimes I find another woman to travel with, but often I don’t – if she has no work, she doesn’t come. Most passengers are men; there are very few women on this route.
There are many challenges, but I’ve crossed every barrier to reach where I am today.
Royesh: Your life’s journey is like this road, too. In the path of history, the road has mostly been walked by men – almost all the travelers were men. Very few women have taken this journey. Do you ever feel that your loneliness, Fatema, reflects the loneliness of women throughout history – walking a path that, for a long time, must be taken alone?
Fatema: Yes, teacher… I’ve felt this deeply during this time. I’ve truly felt alone as a girl. Sometimes my class would end late, and I would pray, ‘God, please let me find another woman to share a taxi with.’ And if not, I wished I had enough money to pay for the ride myself.
I’ve realized how hard it is to be a girl in Afghanistan. You have to be strong, keep learning, and keep moving forward – no matter how difficult the road is – just to reach your goals.
And the day you finally arrive… the day you reach where you’ve always dreamed to be… I believe that’s the day of true gratitude.
Royesh: You just said that you prayed, ‘God, you created me as a girl, but You didn’t even give me the money to travel!’ What do you think God said to you at that moment?
Fatema: I don’t know, teacher… but it’s true, I really said that. That day, I was so overwhelmed and frustrated that I spoke to myself out loud.
Maybe only God knows what He would have said back. I just remember feeling so alone – lost in my thoughts, talking to myself, not even noticing where I was or who might hear me.
But believe me, I said those words out loud without even realizing it.
Royesh: Well, God speaks to everyone – everywhere – in their own way, in a language they understand. Even in Empowerment, we see God as a concept, as a power that takes different shapes depending on our understanding. In that moment, Fatema, I’m sure your God said something to you – something only you could feel. What did He say?
Fatema: Teacher, at that moment, I felt scared… but when I spoke to God, I also surrendered and trusted Him. I said, ‘God, I’m not ungrateful. I trust you. I believe a miracle will happen – maybe I’ll find a way, maybe I’ll arrive on time.’
And then, suddenly, four women came, we shared a car, and we reached safely. That day, I arrived right on time – just as I had prayed.
Royesh: Let’s step away from the abstract for a moment. There must have been something – some source of energy – that kept you moving forward with such determination toward the center. What was it?
Fatema: When I first started coming to the courses in Aliabad, I wasn’t living at home yet – I stayed at my aunt’s house.
Every day when I came here, I would see my friends and classmates. If I ever felt like giving up or losing hope, just seeing them brought my spirit back. They’d come with smiling faces, talking about lessons, sharing homework, saying, ‘Today we have this assignment’ or ‘Tomorrow there’s a test.’
Those moments inspired me so much. I thought to myself, ‘If I were there with them, they’d ask me too: Did you do your homework? Are you ready for the test?’
Honestly, most of my motivation comes from that – from seeing the bright, smiling faces of the girls. It gives me strength. It inspires me to keep going.
Royesh: Have you ever felt that the God who speaks to you is also present in the dream ahead of you – in the goal you see before you? As if He is telling you: ‘Keep moving, don’t give up.’
I had read that God says: ‘If you help Me, I will help you.’ And helping God means helping hope, helping courage, helping beauty, helping awareness, helping strength.
I believe when we move forward on this path, God moves with us and supports us. Do these ideas from our Empowerment sessions ever come to your mind?
Fatema: Yes, exactly, teacher. There was a time when I stayed home for three months, only coming to Aliabad for exams.
I remember attending one Empowerment session during that time. You said something I’ll never forget: ‘You should plan your life in such a way that, after twenty years, you don’t look back and say – it all passed like flowing water. Instead, you should be able to say: These are my achievements, these are my successes, and I am proud of them.’
Whenever I think about those words, they give me motivation to keep moving forward. I don’t focus on the problems or wish for a life without challenges. No – I want to live in a world where girls like me don’t have to constantly worry about solving obstacles just to keep going, but instead can focus on their dreams, their goals, and their achievements.
Your words in those Empowerment sessions awaken something inside me – my own inner strength. I don’t need any false motivation to keep moving. That inner drive itself is my reason to continue.
Royesh: Let’s return to August 15. As you make this journey, how often does that date echo in your mind? It’s a special day – a day when, for the first time, you wake up to a deep realization: that being a girl carries a unique meaning.
Fatema: Teacher, for me, August 15 holds a very special meaning. Everyone has their own journey – their own struggles, challenges, and achievements.
When you overcome every obstacle, when you do the things you’ve always dreamed of doing, and finally reach a stage in life where you feel proud of yourself – that is a moment of gratitude.
For me, being here today, having this interview on this particular day… It feels meaningful. Maybe it’s destiny. It doesn’t feel like an accident.
Royesh: Each time you walk this long road from Sakhi Camp to Aliabad – in your solitude, in those moments when the path feels hard, when the sun burns, when exhaustion comes, or when strangers around you make you feel uneasy – how often do you think about August 15? Has that day made these struggles feel heavier, more real?
Fatema: Sometimes, when I’m walking alone and no one is around, I fall deep into my thoughts and listen to my inner voice. And on days like that, I feel myself getting closer to the meaning of August 15. It’s as if I step right into that moment and live inside it again.
So many questions cross my mind, but one thing matters above all: we must never give up and never lose hope.
Yes, Afghanistan’s history has been full of ups and downs. We cannot say these years have been full of success – nor can we say they’ve been complete failure. It has always been a road of struggle. Things have happened that we never imagined possible – and yet, they happened.
That’s why we must keep our hope alive – hope for a better tomorrow and a better life – because I truly believe that good things are still ahead.
Royesh: Fatema, on August 15, many people experienced such a deep shock that they were consumed by anger and pain. Some even reached the point of hatred – hatred toward God, toward religion, toward men, toward politics, government, the Taliban, even the mullahs.
But what about you, Fatema? As you walk this difficult road, facing your own struggles, do you focus more on the hardships – or do you still manage to see the beauty of life? Are you filled with anger like many others, or do you see it differently?
Fatema: In Empowerment, we’ve learned that we must keep looking at life through a positive lens – to see the beauty, the flowers, the small hopes around us.
There’s no need to live with hatred. There’s no need to let resentment grow in our hearts and feed it day by day.
Today, we know that our lives need peace. Our world needs beauty. So, instead of focusing on the thorns, let’s choose to see the flowers – the ones that are just beginning to bloom.
Royesh: The life the Taliban brought on August 15, especially for girls, felt like they crushed all the flowers and left only thorns behind. Many people say we should hate these thorns, hate what was taken from us. But what about you, Fatema? In everything that happened, did you only see the thorns – or did you still see flowers, too?
Fatema: No matter how dark the world becomes… no matter how deep the darkness gets… I still see the light. They may destroy the blossoms, they may tear away the flowers – but there is always one flower left for me to see.
Royesh: And what is that flower?
Fatema: That flower is hope – a small light that lives inside me.
Royesh: Tell me more about this light, Fatema. I want to really understand it – this hope, this inner flame you talk about. I see you working with such energy, walking from Sakhi Camp to Aliabad with determination, teaching girls, gathering them around you, building a community. But I want to see this light more clearly – this hope inside the darkness. What is it, really?
Fatema: I once watched a movie – I can’t remember its name – but there was a girl giving a speech at her graduation. She said: She said: ‘On graduation day, we wear black and white. But why? What does it symbolize?’
It means that life itself holds both light and darkness, both joy and struggle.
In these twelve years of school, we’ve seen it all – the white and the black, the hope and the hardship. That’s why, on graduation day, we wear these two colors together.
But… for me, it feels like there’s so much darkness now. Sometimes, it seems as if the whole world is covered in it. And yet – I can still see the light.
Why? Because there’s a light inside me – a small flame of hope. And every day, that flame grows brighter and stronger. I can see it clearly. I’ve met so many girls who once dreamed of studying, finishing school, graduating…” but then the government changed, and now the situation isn’t favorable for studying anymore. I ask them, ‘What are you doing now?’ And they say, ‘The Taliban won’t let us study… so we’ve stopped. What’s the point of learning anymore?’
In the end, I see many of them spend their days doing embroidery or getting married – and that’s it.
I’ve also met girls who once dreamed of becoming engineers or doctors. But now, they say, ‘We must sacrifice our dreams to keep our families happy.’
And I ask them, ‘How can you sacrifice yourselves like that?’ They reply, ‘We need to do something so our families will be satisfied with us.’
But I tell them: ‘If you don’t continue your education, you won’t be able to protect yourselves – nor your families.’
For me, this is where my hope comes from. It drives me to keep teaching, to keep learning, to keep moving forward.
Yes, there are days when I feel tired… when I feel frustrated… even moments when I feel like giving up.
Some days, when my students come to class – I teach English – they make so much noise. Sometimes they don’t listen to me at all. And sometimes they say things I really don’t like to hear… but it’s the truth – and the truth can be bitter.
Even then, I remind myself to look back at my hope. I ask myself why this hope exists. Because I’m human. I’m alive. And I truly want to live fully – not just survive, but live.
My hope goes far beyond staying alive. It’s what drives me every day to keep doing my work, to keep moving forward. And whenever a negative thought crosses my mind, I use the light inside me – that small, growing flame – to clear it away.
Royesh: Fatema, you once spoke about something you called ‘the miracle of ice cream.’ I want to hear it from you. What is this miracle? What happened?
Fatema: For me, the ‘ice cream miracle’ is truly a miracle. That’s why I named it so. When I was born, I had an incurable illness.
When I was very little – we were living in Iran, and I was around two years old – I don’t remember much from those days. Later, when I asked my parents about it, even they had forgotten the name of my illness.
They told me the doctors always said the same thing: ‘This disease has no cure. There’s no treatment.’
I was just a baby, always on injections and syrups. I couldn’t eat any food – not even my mother’s milk.
Every doctor gave my parents the same heartbreaking advice: ‘Don’t waste your money. This little girl won’t survive. She might live two or three more days… no more. Keep your money for yourselves. And don’t get your hopes up.’
But my parents never gave up hope. Every time there was a doctor’s appointment, they went. Every time. They never said, ‘Why bother?’ They never stopped trying.
One day, there was another appointment. We went to the doctor again. He changed my medicines and gave my father a new prescription. He said: ‘Take these syrups and give her the injections on time… but honestly, this will probably be the last prescription. She’s not going to recover.’
My father paid for the medicines, and we left the clinic…
Royesh: How old were you at that time, Fatema?
Fatema: I think I was about a year and a half old. My mother always tells this story. She says that day we were so exhausted that our lips were dry from walking. My parents decided we should sit down and rest in a park nearby.
The three of us sat down under a tree, and there I noticed a man selling ice cream. I pointed at it, and my father went and bought three cones. We sat together, eating ice cream. My mother laughs when she tells the story – she says I was eating so fast, licking it like I had never seen food before. I finished my cone so quickly that my father went and bought me another one. And I finished that too.
That evening, we went home. It was nightfall. The next day, we went back to the doctor. And he was shocked. His mouth literally dropped open.
He said: ‘Your daughter is completely fine!’
My father couldn’t believe it. Just days before, this same doctor had told him I wouldn’t survive. But now he said there was no need for any more medicines – I had no symptoms left.
For me, that ice cream became a miracle. I know… it’s just a simple taste, but to me, ice cream carries something bigger. It’s the taste of healing, of hope, of gratitude.
Even now, whenever I feel sad, overwhelmed, or close to giving up, I eat ice cream. For me, it’s a reminder – a small celebration of life.
Every time, it whispers to me: ‘Be grateful. You are alive. You are here for a purpose. Keep walking toward your dreams.’
Royesh: I’m so happy, Fatema, that an ice cream – your little miracle – brought you back into this world with us. Today, you carry the meaning of life and hope for so many others.
You mentioned that you were born in Tehran – a foreign land, a land of migration. Now, after 18 or 19 years, when you look back, what feelings does that bring to you?
Fatema: Teacher, yes… Tehran was a foreign place. You always feel a sense of exile when you’re far from your homeland. There’s a deep feeling of being a stranger.
But at the same time, maybe there’s also a little sense of peace, because we leave home hoping for a better life, for a better future.
Back then, I was very young – I don’t remember much, just fragments of memories. We stayed in Tehran for about a year and a half, maybe two years, and then we moved to Pakistan.
My mother tells me many stories from those days. She says we interacted with all kinds of people. Our landlord in Tehran was a kind man and treated us well.
But whenever we stepped outside, we faced different kinds of people. Some would throw insults at us, mocking us with harsh words, treating us as outsiders. Still, my mother says we endured it all – because we wanted a better life. Those days have passed now… but their memories remain.
What days they were!
Royesh: You’ve shared stories of how your parents fought for your life – how they brought you from ‘nothingness’ into ‘being.’ They struggled as much as you did to keep a little girl alive in this world.
I imagine your parents must carry a very special meaning in your heart. Tell me more about them – their names, their lives, and the picture you hold of them in your mind.
Fatema: My father’s name is Ghulam Sakhi Saifi. My mother’s name is Zainab Saifi. My mother was born in Malistan. Her mother died when she was very young, so she couldn’t go to school. She was raised by her stepmother, who only asked her to work – there was no chance for education.
My father can read and write, but he never really went to school either. When I ask him, he says: ‘I enrolled in first grade, went for two or three days… and then I stopped. Back then, conditions weren’t good. We had no opportunities to study. Our only thought was survival – to have food to eat and fill our stomachs.’
I call my parents the true heroes of my life. I have no other heroes but them. If I called only my father my hero, my mother would be left out. And if I said only my mother, my father would be left out. But the truth is, both of them gave me life, raised me, cared for me, and nurtured me into who I am today. I am deeply grateful to them.
Perhaps other parents would have given up on a little girl born with an incurable illness. Perhaps they wouldn’t have spent their money, wouldn’t have hoped, wouldn’t have fought.
But I am alive today because of their hope – because they never stopped believing I would survive. That’s why I can’t let their hope fade. I can’t let their sacrifices go to waste. They are both the heroes of my life – and I never want anything to diminish that.
Every day, I pray for them. I kiss their hands in my heart, even from far away, and I pray to God: ‘May they always stay with me.’
Royesh: You said, ‘I kiss their hands from afar.’ So, you send your love from a distance. Does that mean your parents aren’t with you? Where are they?
Fatema: Yes, they’re not nearby right now. If they were close, I would kiss their hands in person. But at the moment, they’re about an hour away from me – if you count it by driving time.
Royesh: Fatema, you’ve lived through so many layers of migration – first Iran, then Pakistan, and later returning to Afghanistan, to your homeland. Tell me, what does it feel like to carry the memories of exile and then to come back home again? What does that journey mean to you?
Fatema: I remember Pakistan more clearly than Iran, because I was very young back then. After leaving Iran, we migrated to Quetta, Pakistan, and lived there for almost four years.
Those days are still vivid in my mind – both the good and the terrifying. We lived in an area where most of the people were Hazara, but Pakistan at that time was very dangerous.
My father worked as a laborer. He traveled between Pakistan and Iran for work. But back then, the situation was terrible – there was so much violence against Hazaras.
My mother was always afraid whenever my father planned to return from Iran. She would go to the mosque, pray endlessly, crying that he would arrive home safely. Those were days of constant fear.
I still remember one afternoon… our neighbor’s son went to school. I was very little then and didn’t go to school yet. Suddenly, we heard there had been an explosion nearby.
My mother ran out, panicked, and I followed her. We reached our neighbor’s house – the boy had been injured, his head bandaged.
I still remember him telling us what happened:
He said it was his turn to explain a lesson in class. After finishing, he stepped outside because the fan in their classroom was broken, and he needed fresh air. He sat near the window when suddenly he heard a loud, terrifying blast.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he said everything around him was white. He couldn’t remember anything until he woke up later and realized what had happened. I was just a child, but seeing that scene… It terrified me.
After that, my father decided we couldn’t stay in Pakistan anymore. Life had become too hard, too unsafe.
We were renting a small house, and moving from one place to another was exhausting. We kept shifting homes every couple of months, searching for safety – but there was none. Finally, my father said, ‘We have no choice. We must return to Afghanistan.’
That’s when we came to Mazar-e-Sharif and settled in Sakhi Camp. The first days there were different – for the first time, I remember feeling a bit of freedom. Sakhi Camp is surrounded by open fields.
In Quetta, we couldn’t find open spaces – it was all houses and shops packed together, and everything was close. There was no room to breathe, no chance to play, no space to shout.
But in Sakhi Camp, it was different. There were wide fields. I could finally run freely. I could scream loudly if I wanted, and no one would come to tell me to be quiet. It felt like I had finally come back to a place where my voice was allowed to exist.
Royesh: Being the eldest child in a family – especially a family of eight, with six children from your parents – carries its own responsibilities.
But for you, Fatema, as the eldest daughter, in a country like Afghanistan, with your life’s unique journey… what does this experience mean to you?
What does it feel like to carry this role, to stand beside your parents, holding their stories and sacrifices? What thoughts stay with you?
Fatema: Honestly, being the eldest child always comes with many responsibilities anywhere in the world – but being the eldest daughter, here in Afghanistan, makes it very different.
Here, everyone needs encouragement, everyone needs support. And when you’re the oldest, you’re the one who has to give it – to motivate your brothers and sisters, to tell them, ‘You can do it, keep going, I believe in you.’
You don’t get to choose this role. The responsibility is already on your shoulders, and you must carry it. If I’m honest… it’s very hard.
Right now, my father is unwell – he has severe knee pain and can’t do heavy work anymore. He’s not working. So, it’s just me and my older brother earning for the family.
My mornings are for studying – my literacy program runs from 8:00 to 9:00 am. After that, I go straight to the workshop where I work until 6:30 pm. Then I come home, and my personal studies begin at night.
Sometimes, it’s really hard – especially carrying the responsibilities of being the eldest child at home. The good thing is, I’ve now divided the house chores with my sister, so it’s become a little easier for me.
In the beginning, it was very difficult – working during the day, studying, and at the same time handling many responsibilities at home. Helping my parents while managing everything else often felt overwhelming. There were moments when I honestly felt like I was born just to work. My mind was full of heavy thoughts, and it was hard to stay strong. But now, things are better. My younger brother has grown up, and he helps me, and I help him.
Together, we manage to earn enough to get by – to live our days and nights. And despite everything, I am grateful for the life we have.
Royesh: Fatema, tell me about how you discovered Cluster Education and the Empowerment program. How did you, living so far away, hear about it? What inspired you to cross this distance, join the program, and become part of the learning circle with your friends in the Naji Cluster?
Fatema: Teacher, honestly, it’s amazing when I think about it – traveling from that side of the world to this side, and now being here, part of this program. After the Taliban came, we were able to study in school for only two years. Then everything stopped.
My friends asked me: ‘What will you do now? Will you work, or go study in a madrasa?’
I spoke with my father. At that time, we knew nothing about Cluster Education or Empowerment. I told him, ‘I’m still young; I’ll join the madrasa.’
I studied there for one year – but the more I went, the more I felt like I was drifting away from my dreams instead of getting closer to them. In that madrasa, we only studied religious lessons. There were no real opportunities, no scholarships, no path to higher education.
One day, it was a holiday, and I was sitting with my father near the heater. We started talking about my goals. He asked me gently: ‘Do you really enjoy studying there?’
He told me, ‘I’m not against your decision. Speak your heart. You’re not forced to go.’
I thought maybe he was saying this because he missed me. Our madrasa was very far away, and I stayed in the dormitory there. I only came home once a month, and our only holiday was on Fridays.
So I said, ‘Maybe you’re just worried because you feel lonely when I’m away. Maybe that’s why you’re telling me not to go.’ But he said, ‘No, Fatema. I want you to be honest with yourself. What do you want?’
And I said, ‘Honestly… I don’t want to go back there. I feel like it takes me away from my dreams.’
Then he told me something that changed everything: ‘I’ve spoken with your aunt in Aliabad. There’s a course center there – it teaches school subjects and offers much better opportunities.’
I was so happy, but I was also curious. I asked: ‘If schools are closed here, how is that course still running? Are the Taliban not there?’
I called my cousin, who explained everything about the Cluster Education center and what they were doing. But I still wasn’t convinced. I said: ‘I have to see it myself. I need to ask the teachers directly.’
So, I packed everything I needed and moved to my aunt’s house in Aliabad.
The first day I arrived, it was so hard. I only knew my aunt. I didn’t know anyone else. No friends. No classmates. Everything felt strange.
When I entered the center, the teacher asked about my studies. I said: ‘I completed grade 10, but I couldn’t continue after that. I came here to study.’
They placed me in a class, and soon I discovered that Empowerment sessions were also being held there. I was curious: ‘What are these sessions? How do they help us?’
I attended one session – honestly, I didn’t understand much on the first day. But I thought, ‘I’ll give it another try.’
I spoke with the teacher again, and they said, ‘That’s fine – you can join the sessions.’
After that, I started attending, and I was very curious and excited. I wanted to understand what these sessions were really about. ‘What do they teach here? Why are the girls so active and full of energy? Why do they listen so carefully? Does it really make a difference? What exactly does the teacher talk about?’”
So I came back the next day, sat in the front row, and listened carefully. You were speaking that day, teacher – and the way you talked was so warm, so heartfelt, almost like a father talking to his daughters.
From that moment, I fell in love with the sessions. When I first joined, the Empowerment sessions were already halfway through, and it was really hard for me to understand what Empowerment actually meant.
But fortunately, when the sessions started again from the beginning, I finally understood – and that’s when I truly connected with the meaning of Empowerment.
Royesh: Fatema, in your own experience, what specific change has Empowerment created in you – something you now see as a real ability or strength?
Fatema: Before I joined the Empowerment sessions, I honestly didn’t understand much about myself. I had no deep awareness of who I was, what my strengths were, or what my life really meant.
I didn’t know myself. But through Empowerment, everything changed. I finally understood what Empowerment truly means.
We practiced a lot, did many activities, and worked in five-member groups. Together, we carried out the seven actions of the Peace on Earth Game.
Through all these experiences, I learned something important: life is more than just surviving – and I have the power to shape it. You just need a clear vision and the belief in yourself to follow it.
Empowerment taught me that when you truly know yourself – when you understand who you are and who you want to become – you realize that your possibilities are limitless.
Royesh: Fatema, in Persian, Empowerment translates to توانمندی – the ability to shape your life the way you want. It means having the power to manage your own life, to take control, and to build a future based on your own vision.
Through the lessons and exercises of Empowerment – in the Naji Cluster, in Aliabad, in Sakhi Camp – do you feel you’ve truly become an active, capable person?
Do you feel that with each passing day you’re becoming more empowered, leaving a visible impact on your environment, on the other girls around you? Do you think your mother feels your presence in the house every day?
Do you think your father still feels grateful for that one extra ice cream – the one that became your miracle and brought you to this day? Do you feel that now you’re passing this sense of hope and meaning on to your parents… and to the world around you?
Fatema: Yes, teacher. Absolutely. Because every time we practice an Empowerment exercise and truly understand its meaning, and when we apply it in our lives, we grow.
And growth happens in many ways – personal growth, and also the ability to help others grow. In Empowerment, I first focused on changing myself.
I had to learn to pull myself up when I fell, to find my own strength. Only then could I reach out and help someone else.
Before, I wouldn’t have dared to step outside my comfort zone. I stayed safe, quiet, and unseen. But now… I’ve stepped out. I’ve reached the growing edge I always wanted to reach. And all of this – this strength, this courage, this positive mindset – comes from believing in myself.
It all begins with one question: ‘Do you believe in yourself? Do you believe you can?’ And now… my answer is yes.
Royesh: One of the most important practices in the Empowerment program is team-building. It’s about gathering a group of girls who feel close to each other – in dreams, in hopes, in emotions. You come together, become one, share your vision, unite your goals, and work side by side to make that vision real. In a five-member team, five girls turn into one voice, one purpose, one dream. Did you also form a group? Do you work together as a team?
Fatema: When I first came here to the Cluster and attended classes in person, I didn’t have a group. In the Empowerment sessions, you always told us: ‘Form five-member teams so you can grow and act together.’
But I was alone. I couldn’t find anyone to work with. I tried so hard to find a few girls who shared common ground, but I couldn’t. Then one day, a few girls came to me and said: ‘We’re starting a team. Would you like to join us?’
At first, I hesitated. I said, ‘Let’s see what happens.’ For a few days, I observed them closely – watching, listening, wondering if we had anything in common.
Honestly, I didn’t even fully understand what common ground meant back then. I’d only heard you say that if we want to build a shared dream and work together, we must first find what connects us…
A few days passed like this… The girls came to me again and said: ‘We’re holding a meeting to form our team. You should join us.’
I was still unsure and said, ‘Let’s see what happens.’ The next day, they came again and asked: ‘Why weren’t you at the meeting?’ I said, ‘I couldn’t make it’… honestly, it was a little white lie.
But they insisted: ‘Come on, we’ll have another session – this time, you must be there.’ So I went.
During that meeting, one of them suddenly said: ‘You should be the leader.’ I was surprised and hesitated, but finally said: ‘Alright… let’s see where this goes.’
Step by step, everything moved forward… Until one day, I finally understood what connected us all: We were all girls. We were all studying. We all dreamed of a better life and a better future. Yes, the situation for girls right now isn’t easy, but still, every day, we come to class with smiling faces, we learn, we grow, our teacher checks our progress, signs our homework, and our day passes – full of hope and resilience.
The days we spend in the Empowerment program are special for me – full of lessons and new discoveries.
Step by step, I finally understood what united us as a group. We even named our team “Knowledge Partners Group”. After forming our five-member group, we decided to start our first big project: ‘Let’s create a literacy course for the women and girls in our neighborhood.’
I was so excited. I went door to door, introducing myself, saying: ‘We want to organize literacy classes for you at the mosque.’
The women and girls were thrilled. They gave me their names eagerly, saying: ‘Finally, it’s happening! Maybe our dream will come true.’
Then, I went to speak with the mosque caretaker. He said: ‘We need the men’s approval first. There must be a meeting.’ I agreed and waited on the women’s side while the men gathered to decide.
Then they held a meeting – but they didn’t agree. They said there was no need for classes in the mosque, and that it could cause many problems. They even worried someone might break the mosque’s windows. They listed so many issues… and in the end, we got a clear “no.” I didn’t know many people, and there was no one to support me.
It was just the five of us in our small group. We even spoke with Ustad Noori, and he advised us to focus on empowering ourselves instead.
Our very first activity failed… We couldn’t start the literacy course we had planned. After that, I had to continue my studies online at the Sakhi Camp. There, I decided to create an association – a place where everyone could stay informed and connected.
It’s been almost a month since I started this group, and I’m working hard to help them change the way they see their own lives and believe in something better for their future.
On the first day I gathered everyone, I didn’t tell them I was planning to start an association. I went door to door, inviting them, saying: “I’m holding an educational and inspiring seminar – please come!”
Everyone I invited showed up. I was so happy – they came with energy and excitement.
I began the seminar, shared everything I wanted to say, and at the end, I introduced my idea: I wanted to create an association called “The Dreamers’ Association.”
I shared all the information I had, and they were amazed! They said, “We’ll definitely join and become active members!”
Every Friday at 5 PM, we held our sessions – and they always came on time, eager to learn. Together, we began to understand how we can change the way we see life.
On the very first day, I asked one of the girls -a university student who had completed her second year but couldn’t continue her studies: “Tell us what’s in your heart… whatever you feel, share it.”
She spoke for almost an hour… sharing her pain, her dreams, and her struggles – and right there, in front of us, she cried.
I just listened quietly… and in that moment, I realized how deeply we need to hear the voices of Afghan girls. Their stories… their pain… are truly worth listening to.
It’s true – sometimes we feel powerless. But one thing they could never take away from us is the power to speak. We can share our feelings. We can express our dreams and our pain. We always have something meaningful to say.
As I listened to her story, I couldn’t hold back my own tears. All the women in the room were deeply moved – especially when she spoke about how she could no longer continue her studies, and how she had to give up the economics degree she loved so much.
On the first day, she gave a short seminar about good character. She shared her thoughts – but mostly, she opened her heart and spoke about her own struggles.
At our next session, when she arrived, I noticed an incredible change in her. In the previous meeting, I had talked about positive thinking and explained the purpose of our association – why we are here and what we aim to do.
This time, her voice was different. She said: “It’s true, I can’t go back to university right now… I can’t continue my studies, and the environment isn’t supportive… but I can share everything I’ve learned with all of you.”
From that day on, she began contributing her knowledge and experiences
so openly and beautifully in our sessions – even though our time was limited, her words always inspired us.
She began sharing her thoughts and experiences through the books we provided, and there’s one sentence she said that I will never forget:
“I may not be able to finish university… but I can become an educated and caring mother. One day, when I have children, I can give them a better life.
I don’t want to be like some parents who don’t support their daughters
just because they are girls, not boys. I want to be different… I have the power to be a good mother.”
I was deeply moved by her words. In that moment, I realized something had changed inside her.
At our first session, she seemed so hopeless, but by the second session, I saw a spark of strength and purpose in her. That small transformation inspired me even more – and I knew then that I had to make this association grow.
Royesh: In your association, what specific activities are you doing now
that you believe will help you achieve your dream of creating positive change in the lives of girls and women?
Fatema: At first, we focused on those girls who find it difficult to speak up.
I encouraged them to start by reading books. We don’t need to have many experiences ourselves – we can learn from the experiences written in books.
Now, most of them are reading regularly. They present their books to the group, talk about what the book meant, and in the next session, they share how it has impacted their lives.
But here in Sakhi Camp, there’s a big challenge: hopelessness. We have two courses in the camp. One course has very few students and mostly boys attend. The other course is good, but I rarely see any girls there.
When I ask them why, they say: “We have no hope. Why should we study? Why should we learn English, math, or chemistry? What’s the point of continuing our education?”
That’s why I created the Dreamers’ Association – to gather more members, bring girls together, and help them change the way they see themselves and their future.
I want them to know they are not alone – we are in this together. If we stand united, we can create positive change.
One day, we’ll look back and say: “I’m glad we didn’t give up. I’m glad we took that first step. And I’m proud we made it through.”
Royesh: Have you also started any special educational programs to help women and girls gain the skills and confidence they need?
Fatema: Yes! We’ve recently started a literacy course. It’s for the girls who come to our association, as well as for mothers and other women who couldn’t continue their education.
It’s been two weeks since we started, and more and more women are joining – full of excitement and hope.
At first, when I spoke to them about their inner strength, I realized many of them didn’t truly know their own worth. Some said: “We just came to listen… we don’t really need to study. We’re older now – it’s enough if our children learn. Our job is to keep the home and keep our husbands happy.”
I told them: “No – you must first know yourself. You don’t yet realize the power you already have. When we join these sessions, we talk, we share, and we learn to lead together as women. You can do this. You have the strength.”
I told them: “I’m just a girl now, but one day I’ll become a woman too – just like you. So let’s stand together and create a better life for ourselves.”
Then I asked them: “Don’t you love literacy?”
And they all said: “Yes – we really do!”
I reminded them: “Think about the moments in life when you wished you could read or write. “If only I had learned to read and write… my life would be different today. I could write, I could read, and I wouldn’t face so many struggles now. I would be able to help my children with their studies, support my husband, and together we could build a stronger, better family.”
When the seminar ended, all the women gave me their names to register. They said: “We will definitely join this course.” Right now, our classes are home-based, because we don’t have a proper space to organize additional programs like school tutoring or English courses.
I teach them from my own home, and I’ve planned a six-month program to help these amazing mothers and sisters learn to read and write. My hope is that by the end of these six months, they will gain the basic literacy skills to stand stronger, dream bigger, and build better lives.
Royesh: How is your experience at Sakhi Camp different from your time in Ali Abad? Do you feel the audience reacts differently to you there?
Fatema: In Ali Abad, I didn’t know many people. Honestly, I felt like they were thinking: “Who is this girl, and where has she come from? Can she really bring positive change or start a course here?”
But at Sakhi Camp, it’s different. We are all from the same area, and on the very first day of my seminar, everyone already knew me.
I told them: “Yes, we know each other, but I won’t call you by titles like ‘Auntie,’ ‘Uncle,’ or ‘Mother of Ahmed.’ I will call each of you by your own name – because your identity is not tied to anyone else. You are known by your name and should be recognized for who you are.”
Royesh: In Empowerment, we often say that knowing someone by name
is the first step toward knowing oneself. Because your name is your identity – a sign that represents who you are.
For these women, who were always known as “Mother of Ahmed” or “Mother of Hussain”, what did it feel like when, for the first time, they were called by their own names – as Nargis, Zahra, or Zainab? Did they feel shy, surprised, proud, or happy? What was that experience like for them?
Fatema: In the beginning, when I collected their names for the list, some of them didn’t even know their last names. They would ask: “What is a last name?” I explained what it meant – that they could use their family name or even create a personal one.
During the lessons, I always called them by their names and surnames. At first, they wouldn’t respond… They were so used to being called “Mother of Ali” or “Mother of Reza” by everyone else. But little by little, things began to change.
Some of them still feel a little shy – after all, for 20 or 30 years they’ve only been known by their child’s name. It had become their identity. When someone calls them by their own names, you can see a change in their faces.
Some of them feel proud – as if they are finally saying to themselves: “Yes… this is me. This is who I am.” When I call out their names or surnames, they respond loudly and confidently: “Yes! I’m here!”
It makes me so happy to see them like this. Many of them say: “We never had the chance to study before. But when we come here, it feels like we’re students again – just like sixth or seventh graders, starting a new chapter of learning.”
And truly… they feel joyful, hopeful, and alive.
Royesh: In Empowerment, we believe that these practices can be applied to anyone – at any age and any stage of life. Empowerment is about unlocking potential, and sometimes that begins with something as simple
as knowing and embracing your own name. That’s the first step toward self-awareness… the first exercise in empowerment. Did you start your role as an empowerment educator by practicing this with your students?
Fatema: Yes, exactly. On the very first day of our session, I didn’t start by teaching them the alphabet or numbers like “A, B, C” or “1, 2, 3.”
Instead, I told them: “You are known by your name and your identity. You must first understand who you are.”
I went around the room, calling each woman by her full name and surname, and I registered them all on the list. That day, I focused on motivating them, talking with them, and – most importantly – listening to their stories.
I asked why they couldn’t continue their education and what their dreams once were.
I remember speaking to one mother, Mrs. Ahmadi. I asked her: “If you had been able to study, what would you have wanted to become?”
She paused for a moment and said softly: “I always dreamed of becoming a teacher.”
I asked her: “Why? Did you really want to become a teacher? If you wanted it, you could have found a way to study, right?”
She sighed and said: “At that time, we simply couldn’t. In my family, only the boys were allowed to study. Girls weren’t permitted to leave the house.
We were expected to work at home, and no one allowed us to go to school.”
I asked her why she still chose teaching as her dream. She said: “Because I want to become a teacher who teaches both girls and boys equally – without discrimination.”
Her words touched me deeply. I smiled and told her: “That’s beautiful. And you know what? It’s never too late. Even if you’re 70 years old, you can still learn, and one day, you can become a teacher.”
By our third session, I told all the women: “You must keep learning. Education gives you the power to stand on your own feet, to earn your own income, to be independent and self-reliant.”
I spoke to a woman named Mrs. Hosseini and told her: “Imagine when you become literate – when you can read and write without needing to ask anyone for help.”
She smiled softly and said something I will never forget: “If I ever learn to read and write, the first word I want to read… is my own name.”
I told her: “That’s wonderful! But why your name?” She explained: “Because whenever there’s aid distribution, I have to take my ID cards –
but I have no one to guide me. I have small children and no family support. I bring all the IDs – mine, my husband’s, my father-in-law’s – and I don’t even know which one is mine.
I hand them over and ask the workers: ‘Please, one of these must be mine… help me find it.’ That’s why the first thing I want to read… is my own name – Sediqa. I want to say with confidence: This is me. This is my ID.”
I told her: “We should truly be grateful. If, over these next six months, you keep the courage and motivation you have today, you will absolutely reach your goals.”
I have to say, Sediqa Hosseini was the first person who kept encouraging me: “Fatema, open a course. Start something.”
Back then, I was still in Ali Abad, and I kept telling her: “I can’t… it’s too hard. I’m only home on Fridays – I don’t have the time.”
But she always replied: “It’s okay, Fatema. Do whatever little you can – start something small.”
Later, when I finally started the program in Sakhi Camp, the first good news I shared was with her.
That evening, we had a gathering, and since her house was near mine, I went to tell her personally. She was so happy – she said: “This is the best news you could have given me!”
Royesh: Right now, in the association you’ve founded, how many students are working alongside you?
Fatema: At the moment, we have 20 members, and just last night, five more girls messaged me saying they want to join. So now we’re 25 members. It’s still a small group, but it’s growing day by day.
Royesh: And what exactly are you teaching them?
Fatema: First, we try to include girls from different communities so that our association reflects diversity and unity. We focus on developing personal skills, and we’re planning activities outside the classroom too. Some of our upcoming projects include campaigns on women’s leadership and programs to encourage girls to continue their education.
These are part of our future plans, and with the support of the dedicated members in our association, I believe that day is not far away when we’ll turn these dreams into reality.
Royesh: You’ve mentioned women’s leadership before. What does women’s leadership mean to you? What comes to your mind when you hear this term?
Fatema: For me, women’s leadership means courage, empathy, and the power to create positive change in our community and our country.
Royesh: Do you think you can share this vision of leadership with your students and colleagues? Do they relate to this concept as you do?
Fatema: Yes, absolutely – especially in our association. When I first told them about our plans and said: “Let’s practice women’s leadership,” they laughed and asked: “Do you want to become the president?”
I explained to them: “No – leadership isn’t only about becoming a president or holding a high government position. Leadership starts with yourself. When you can lead your own life, make your own decisions, and know that your life belongs to you – that is leadership.”
They were excited and inspired by this idea. They said: “Yes – we can do this.” And together, we committed to turning this vision into reality.
Royesh: In Empowerment, there’s a simple formula you’ve learned: (2 = 1 + 1). It means that when you have a goal – for example, creating positive change through education – you encourage one person each month to start learning, and then that person encourages one more. Slowly, the movement grows. Have you applied this formula in your association to expand your work in Sakhi Camp?
Fatema: Yes, I have! It was during our third session. I was reviewing my daily reflection notebook to make sure I wasn’t forgetting anything important. As I flipped through the pages, I came across this formula: 2 = 1 + 1. When I got there, I read through all the notes and reflections I had written that day – even a little personal story I’d recorded. And as I read, I thought to myself: “It’s true… one plus one really does equal two.”
Before learning about this formula in Empowerment, I had once watched a film where someone said: “Whenever you help one person, ask them to help three more people – and that’s how change spreads.”
I thought to myself: “How amazing would it be if we all used this simple idea
to make our community stronger?”
That day, just before 5 PM, I started the session and asked the girls: “Do you believe that one plus one equals two?”
They said: “Yes, of course!” I asked: “But how? Can you prove it?” One of the girls stood up and said with a smile: “We learned this in school – one plus one equals two… it doesn’t need any proof!”
But then I explained: “Right now, we are just a small group. But each of us is like a small light. “Each of us is like a small light – and together, our light grows brighter every day.
With this simple formula, we can make that light spread even further. If each of you encourages just one girl to return to her studies, to hold on to hope, to choose life instead of giving up, to dream again and follow her goals – then together, we can create real change. So let’s bring this formula to life.”
The girls became excited and asked: “How do we start?” I said: “It’s simple – let’s begin today. By our next session, each of you will share a personal story: Who did you inspire? What did you say? And how did it change them?”
Everyone came to the next session, and that day we had deep conversations together. We didn’t open any books – instead, everyone shared their personal experiences.
One girl told us about her sister: “My sister spends her days doing embroidery and watching TV dramas. She always says, ‘My life is perfect.
If I have work, I do it and earn some money. If I don’t, I just watch my shows.’” But she said: “I sat with her and talked about her dreams.
I reminded her of what she once wanted to achieve and asked her if she still wanted to reach that goal. Slowly, her perspective began to change.”
One by one, the girls shared stories like this, and we realized how powerful the 2 = 1 + 1 formula really is.
And that’s why today, our association has grown to 25 active members –
and it keeps growing.
Royesh: The second Empowerment practice focuses on developing both physical and mental strength. For physical empowerment, we encourage regular exercise – for example, 15 minutes of jump rope daily, and creating a healthy meal plan. Meal planning actually helps you in many ways: you learn about different types of food, how to combine them properly, understand food prices, learn to compare costs in the market, and manage your household budget better.
These are simple but powerful exercises that build everyday life skills.
The lessons you study are actually part of mental empowerment. When you attend classes regularly, practice the alphabet or numbers, or learn subjects like chemistry, physics, and mathematics through the Cluster Education program – all of these are exercises that strengthen the mind.
Have you already started these mental empowerment practices in Sakhi Camp, or are they part of your future plans?
Fatema: Yes, Teacheer. Most of the girls here already do physical exercises. I often see them in the mornings – some go for a walk,
some play jump rope, and a few even have 45-minute workout routines.
But when it comes to mental exercises, they had almost none – and that’s where the real struggle begins.
Some of the girls told me: “Even if we read just one line from a book, we can’t remember it at all.”
I explained to them: “That’s because you haven’t practiced mental training. Many of you have been out of school for three years, and your minds aren’t used to active learning anymore.”
I compared it to sports: “If an athlete exercises regularly, their body stays strong and healthy. But if they stop training for even a week, they lose their strength and fall back to where they started. The mind works the same way.”
If we study continuously, our minds grow sharper and more capable. But if we stop, we lose focus and struggle to understand even simple texts.
We can’t deeply grasp the meaning of what we read, and the brain becomes inactive and stuck. This is the biggest challenge for many girls in Sakhi Camp – because they haven’t had enough mental practice, they face serious difficulties in their learning journey.
Royesh: Aside from your current programs, how do you plan to integrate Empowerment practices and the Peace on Earth Game into your association’s activities?
Fatema: To implement the Seven Actions effectively, we need to move step by step. I first thought carefully about how to start with the girls in our group – how to explain to them that we need to work together and carry out these seven actions as a team.
At the beginning, some of the girls were already exercising, but they were doing it individually – either at home or outside.
In Empowerment, we’ve learned that we can achieve much more when we work together. So, I encouraged them to organize regular group exercises.
Because when there’s unity and collaboration, we can reach our goals and dreams much faster. And they all agreed to join in.
Royesh: So, part of your plan is to make the Seven Actions from the Peace on Earth Game a regular practice for the girls in your association?
Fatema: Yes, Ustad. I started with the physical exercises first – teaching them how to organize, commit, and practice together on a regular basis.
Royesh: Looking ahead, your Empowerment journey connects to a bigger dream – the dream of women’s leadership. One day, you could be in a position where you lead society in different fields – as a president, a judge, a business leader, or a university head. How clear and achievable does this dream feel to you? Do you believe that within the next 10 or 15 years, you can reach it?
Fatema: When I see the passion and motivation in the eyes of the girls around me, it gives me hope. It makes me believe that we can have a positive vision for the future. At the beginning, it was very different. When I wanted to start this journey, there was no one to support or encourage me. I moved forward alone, telling myself: “Yes, this is where we are right now, but what about the next few years? What do I want my future to look like? Can I create positive change?”
I wondered if it was even possible to bring the idea of women’s leadership to life. I questioned myself: “Can I build an association? Can I bring women together? Can I inspire them to change their perspective, to know themselves better, to ask: Who am I? How do I want to live my life?”
At first, it wasn’t easy to answer those questions. But I decided to take the first step anyway. When I imagined my future, I thought deeply about the next 10 or even 20 years. I pictured a day when we could look back and say: “We started this journey 20 years ago… and today, we stand together – proud of how far we’ve come, proud of what we’ve achieved, and proud of the leaders we’ve become.”
Royesh: Fatema, many people in your community see the dream of girls’ leadership and women’s leadership as something distant, unrealistic, even impossible. Do you believe the same? Do you also think this dream is too far away to reach?
Fatema: I don’t believe that at all. I’m a girl who walks alone from Sakhi Camp to Ali Abad, and half of that distance I walk on foot.
If I can cover such a long road every single time, why should I ever allow myself to believe that the path toward my dreams is too hard?
If I can walk this distance, I can also walk through the next years of my life. I can face the challenges ahead and still see a bright future waiting for me.
Yes, I see walls, I see hardships, I see risks along the way. But the hope and determination inside me are greater than any obstacle before me. That’s why I believe I can overcome them and succeed.
I have never thought to myself: “I can’t make this journey.” Because deep inside, I know I can.
Royesh: Sometimes, if you stand on the rooftop of your house, you can see Ali Abad from Sakhi Camp. Now tell me – if you look once at Ali Abad
and then close your eyes and imagine yourself at 40 years old, leading as a woman leader… Which one feels clearer to you? Which one seems easier to reach?
Fatema: I think about it like this: If I stand on the rooftop, I know that I can reach Ali Abad by walking or taking a car in one to one and a half hours.
But when I think about the next 20 years… about the woman leader I want to become… about what my life and my dream could look like then…
I can actually see it even more clearly. Even brighter than Ali Abad. Because I’m just at the beginning of my journey, and I haven’t given up. That’s why I believe that in the next 10, 20, 30, even 40 years, I can see my future shining brighter and brighter.
Royesh: What is your message, as a future leader, to the girls 20 years from now?
Fatema: My message to all my dear sisters is this: Never give up. Yes, the world can be tough – sometimes even unfair – and life may not always go the way you expect. But no matter what happens, always be yourself and believe in your power. Never, ever think: “Why did God create me as a girl?” Don’t let society make you feel small because you are a girl. Don’t let discrimination define you.
Instead – be proud. Be proud to be a girl. Be proud to be an Afghan girl. And always believe this: if you truly want something, you can achieve it. You have the strength to move mountains, as long as you believe in yourself.
Royesh: When you were little, doctors told your parents that you wouldn’t survive – they said there was no hope. But one small thing – an ice cream – brought you back to life. Today, in Afghanistan, there are so many girls like you, Fatema – girls who are constantly told, by doctors, by elders, by society: “Girls can’t survive.” “Girls can’t dream.” “Girls can’t lead.” “Girls don’t deserve happiness or freedom.”
They are told to give up. But maybe, just like you, what they need is an ice cream moment – a little miracle to believe in life again. If you could give them that miracle, what would you offer? What would Fatema’s “ice cream” be for the girls who’ve lost hope?
Fatema: I’d give them the gift of voice. When I was born, no one believed I would survive – but I did. I’m 19 years old now, and I’m alive. Back then, ice cream saved me. Now, I want to offer something even greater.
To all the girls who’ve lost their hope, to those who’ve surrendered their dreams, I want to place in their hands the power of speaking.
My dear sisters… when the whole world tells you to stay silent, when everyone says: ‘Be quiet. Don’t speak. Don’t dream.’
Remember this: you have the power to speak. You have the right to decide: ‘Do I stay silent, or do I raise my voice?’
The miracle – the true ice cream I want to give you – is this gift that’s already inside you: the power of your voice.
It is like a hidden strength, an extraordinary force that lives within you. I want to place this in your hands and remind you: you can speak. You have a voice. And your voice matters.
Never forget – you will always have something worth saying.
Royesh: Thank you, Fatema. I’m so grateful to have had you in this special episode of FutureSheLeaders.
Fatema: Thank you, Ustad, and thanks to everyone who supports us and to everyone watching. I’m truly happy I had this opportunity to share my journey with you in such an open and heartfelt conversation.
Thank you, everyone.
