LeadHer Learning Scholarship

I was born in a beautiful mountainous region of Pakistan called Azad Kashmir. The word Azad means freedom, but Kashmir is all but that. I immigrated to the United States when I was just under two years old and have only visited my home country a handful of times since then. Still, whenever someone asks me where I am from, without hesitation, the words Azad Kashmir slip from my tongue. Growing up, I never really understood why I answered that question so confidently. The older I get, the more I realize that Kashmir is what gives me my ambitions, my purpose, and my dreams. Every time I have gone back to visit, I have seen children my age working instead of learning. I have watched them harvesting grain in the fields, running tiny mud shops along village roads, carrying water from mountain streams to sell, making bricks with their families, or preparing food to sell from street carts. They were not any less capable than I was. They simply never had the opportunity to sit in a classroom. Those visits taught me something I have never forgotten: education is not equally accessible, even though it should be. My family's story reflects that reality. My parents were fortunate enough to receive a religious education through a free madrasa. Even that was uncommon for girls. In many parts of Kashmir, schools were built for boys, leaving girls with few opportunities to learn. Instead of accepting that reality, my grandfather, who had six daughters of his own, opened a girls' madrasa inside his home. He taught every student himself. With time, determination, and the support of donations, that small classroom became a fully staffed school where hundreds of girls from nearby villages now receive a free education every day. He believed that every girl deserved the chance to learn. When my parents were the same age I am now, they left everything behind to give me opportunities they never had. They moved to a country where they did not know the language and arrived with almost nothing. They sacrificed the familiarity of home because they believed education could change the course of our family's future. As a first-generation college student, I carry that sacrifice with me every day. Because of them, I graduated as the valedictorian of my high school and am now pursuing a degree in Biomedical and Pharmaceutical Sciences on the pre-med track. Outside the classroom, I volunteer in my community, mentor younger students, and conduct undergraduate cancer research. Every accomplishment I celebrate belongs just as much to the people who made it possible. To me, education is so much more than earning a degree. It is hope. It is opportunity. It is freedom. My grandfather gave girls in Kashmir a place to learn. My parents crossed an ocean so I could continue that journey. Now, it is my turn to use my education to serve others. As a future physician, I hope to improve healthcare for underserved communities while encouraging more young women to pursue careers in STEM. If I can become the kind of mentor for someone else that my family has been for me, then every sacrifice they made will have been worth it. Education is the greatest gift I have ever been given. The best way I know how to honor that gift is to make sure it reaches someone else.