It was Wednesday, October 10, that I first read about Malala Yousufzai. The 14 year old girl from Pakistan who believed in the absolute right of every human being to be educated, began a blog, at age 11, under the pseudonym Gul Makai, for the BBC. Her blog was about life under the Taliban. In 2009, she began publically speaking out about girls' education in Pakistan--which marked her not only as a female activist, but as a target to religious extremists.
Malala was riding home with other schoolmates, on a bus, in the northern Swat Valley, when a gunman walked up to the vehicle and shot her in the head. (A second girl was also shot.) The Taliban quickly took credit for the attack--clearly stating it was an example to other females in the country.
Incensed, I wanted to write a full blog about the situation on Wednesday, when I read about it. However, at the time, Malala had been airlifted, by helicopter, to the frontier city of Peshawar. A military hospital had just taken her in...the story was still unfolding. I decided to wait. To pray. To see.
Yesterday, I was e-mailed a beautifully moving piece by my friend, the writer Malcolm Boyd. It is a "love letter to Malala". I want anyone who needs a complete perspective on the situation, (and the young woman), to track down this piece. After reading it, I realized, anything I could have said about her, and the situation, was better said by Malcolm. So, I will send out this notice and those of you interested in world activism, or heroism by even the youngest among us, will do your own research.
His perspective is far more eloquent than mine.
As I post blogs about everyday life in this part of the world, reflecting the changing anxieties, tragedies and triumphs of middle class America, I am reminded, constantly, in other places in the world, women are still property. Women are murdered for attempts at education, let alone attempts to gain the vote. Women are mutilated, raped, destroyed--not for who they are, as individuals, but as "lessons" for others--lessons in power, war and genocide. This is not "new". Unfortunately, in the West, it is seldom even "news".
As I check in on FaceBook and see the joy of friends celebrating milestones with their families; or the requests for prayers or advice ; or even recent triumphs of new undertakings--be they college graduations, new jobs, relocation successes or signing the papers for a house--I can't help but think of other places on the planet where social networking is a lifeline. Issues such as "will I make it home from school, today", or "will my family still be alive when I get there", are the subjects of other Tweets, posts and blogs.
Somehow, this makes me a little sick, and decidedly sad.
I hope we can learn to extend our humanity, even as we stay in touch.
Like it or not, as Malala has proven, we are citizens of the world; what matters in Pakistan, should matter here.
Malala was riding home with other schoolmates, on a bus, in the northern Swat Valley, when a gunman walked up to the vehicle and shot her in the head. (A second girl was also shot.) The Taliban quickly took credit for the attack--clearly stating it was an example to other females in the country.
Incensed, I wanted to write a full blog about the situation on Wednesday, when I read about it. However, at the time, Malala had been airlifted, by helicopter, to the frontier city of Peshawar. A military hospital had just taken her in...the story was still unfolding. I decided to wait. To pray. To see.
Yesterday, I was e-mailed a beautifully moving piece by my friend, the writer Malcolm Boyd. It is a "love letter to Malala". I want anyone who needs a complete perspective on the situation, (and the young woman), to track down this piece. After reading it, I realized, anything I could have said about her, and the situation, was better said by Malcolm. So, I will send out this notice and those of you interested in world activism, or heroism by even the youngest among us, will do your own research.
His perspective is far more eloquent than mine.
As I post blogs about everyday life in this part of the world, reflecting the changing anxieties, tragedies and triumphs of middle class America, I am reminded, constantly, in other places in the world, women are still property. Women are murdered for attempts at education, let alone attempts to gain the vote. Women are mutilated, raped, destroyed--not for who they are, as individuals, but as "lessons" for others--lessons in power, war and genocide. This is not "new". Unfortunately, in the West, it is seldom even "news".
As I check in on FaceBook and see the joy of friends celebrating milestones with their families; or the requests for prayers or advice ; or even recent triumphs of new undertakings--be they college graduations, new jobs, relocation successes or signing the papers for a house--I can't help but think of other places on the planet where social networking is a lifeline. Issues such as "will I make it home from school, today", or "will my family still be alive when I get there", are the subjects of other Tweets, posts and blogs.
Somehow, this makes me a little sick, and decidedly sad.
I hope we can learn to extend our humanity, even as we stay in touch.
Like it or not, as Malala has proven, we are citizens of the world; what matters in Pakistan, should matter here.
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