My Malala : Lessons in courage from an 8 year old
My 8-year-old son chose to be Malala Yousafzai for his famous person day at school. Mind you, this is a momentous day for these 2nd graders. They apply skills acquired throughout the year by reading, researching, writing and speaking about the famous person that inspires them. Parents, friends and families are invited to the presentation. The children dress up to represent their chosen famous person and take a big leap into a space that showcases their public speaking skills, their research, their presentation and their overall passion for their subject.
Reading the list of the 125 famous people that my son, Shaan, got from school was like falling through a light infused tunnel. So many inspirational, world-changing names condensed on a few pages whose contributions are too big to be contained in words. Mahatma Gandhi (my personal favorite, arguably, due to my Indian roots!), Walt Disney, Steve Jobs, Leonardo Da Vinci, Nelson Mandela, Mozart…there were any number of suitable picks that would teach Shaan so much about how the passion and persistence of one person is enough to change the world. Malala Yousafzai, a relatively new addition to this years old list, is remarkable and is transforming the world in her own amazing way. She absolutely belongs on this illustrious list. My problem, however, was that Shaan wanted to be Malala for his famous person day. Given my limited knowledge of gender sensitivity in his age group, I feared for what this choice would represent to his peers, his teachers and all the countless friends and family members that would be there to see him “be” Malala Yousafzai. As a first generation immigrant the process to normalize and fit in, many times, is a road filled with self-doubt and what-ifs. I did not want to compound the “otherness” of my son’s identity at school. I did not want his choice to make him “weird” or “girly” to his classmates. I did not want it to mess with his self-confidence which sparkles on good days but can be quite beat up on not so good ones.
He, thankfully, refused to listen to any of my fear-born reasons and put Malala right on top of his shortlist. His teachers surprised me further by granting him permission to be Malala. Many of his friends and their parents expressed how proud they were of his pick and how excited they were to see him perform. By this time, as you may have guessed, I felt a bit regressive and wondered if anything was wrong with me for having doubted this choice in the first place. His single-minded conviction reminded me that gender, color, race are barriers that exist only if we choose to pay attention to them. Inspiration is inspiration across any and all boundaries. I learnt that “otherness” is just the flip side of the coin of individuality. I learnt that we are surrounded by a lot of encouraging, open-minded, wonderful people and have truly found a judgment-free space that we can proudly call home. I learnt that courage comes in all shapes and sizes. Courage is to fight for your right to education in the face of death threats and bullets. But courage is also to defy gender roles at 8 and represent who inspires you the most. Courage is also picking up the proverbial pen, after years of disuse, and put up your emotions for public consumption even if it makes you appear primitive. Courage is hoping that this tiny inspiration from our hum-drum life will make a difference, however miniscule, in the parents’ perception of their children’s choices. Sometimes, they do know better.
Thank you Malala for inspiring an entire generation. Thank you Shaan for inspiring me.
