I often think that I am a 1-percenter, perhaps not in the fiscal sense, but in the notion that I am probably more blessed than 99 percent of people in the world. Without going into great detail, I have just about everything I could possibly want in this world: a loving family, a wonderful and supportive group of friends, an incredible academic institution, sound financial backing and so on and so forth.
Even still, I decorate my room from wall to wall with inspirational posters as constant reminders that each day brings with it new challenges that will need surmounting, and to stagnate is to succumb to the apathy that all too often accompanies comfort. Some of these posters include galvanizing quotes from Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison, James Dean and the Declaration of Independence. Yet all of these figures—and documents—vastly differ from the latest role model who will smile at me from my wall, Malala Yousafzai.
You see, while the aforementioned figures are sweet reminders of both morality and success, they are only symbols that I could come across in history books and movies. Their philosophies can only reach me through stories. Malala is different. Malala is my contemporary. Malala is my hero.
If you are not familiar with Malala Yousafzai, it is about time you two became acquainted. She is a symbol of equality, progress, freedom and bravery. When she was 11 years old, Malala became an international women’s rights activist and freedom fighter when she began writing blogs for the BBC about the harsh conditions for children, especially girls, seeking an education in a Taliban-controlled Pakistan. The Taliban bombed school after school, threatened girls who attended open schools with death and terrorized children everywhere. But Malala kept writing and she kept fighting.
A Taliban gunman stopped Malala’s school bus Oct. 9, 2012, interrogated the students until he discovered Malala, swiftly proceeded to shoot her in the head and then exited the bus, leaving her to die amid a sea of petrified adolescents.
Malala didn’t die, neither physically nor spiritually. She was rushed to the hospital in Pakistan where the bullet, as well as part of her skull, was removed. She was then airlifted to a British hospital for further treatment.
In these past few months, Malala Yousafzai has not only recovered swimmingly from her assassination attempt, but she has also picked up exactly where she left off, inspiring millions of people throughout the world to stand up for what they believe in. The only thing on her mind is to continue her goal of education for all. She was runner up to President Barack Obama in Time’s Person of the Year (although, in my opinion, she should have won) and she is nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize (I hope she wins).
Malala’s picture on my wall is accompanied by a quote of hers, “I don’t mind if I have to sit on the floor at school. All I want is education. And I’m afraid of no one.”
I am not Malala and I never will be. Malala is a fifteen-year-old girl who stood fearless in front of a terrorist aiming a Kalashnikov at her head. I am a 170-pound man who jumps at the sight of a house spider. Malala would die so that anyone who desires to sit inside a classroom can do so. I complain about having to do long division.
But I will exploit Malala’s smile and her prophetic quotations as a daily reminder that as long as I am here on Earth, there is something that will need fixing. I will do my best each day to muster up all of the energy I can so that I can help fix those problems. I am by no means Malala, but I will try to at least live up to her picture on my wall.
Zac is a senior majoring in philosophy and communications. Find his thoughts on the goings-on in the Middle East in print every week. Please send all feedback to opinion@dailycardinal.com.
