Interview with Mursal Hakimi by Noor Kazmi
Mursal’s journey is a remarkable story of resilience and determination. Born in Afghanistan, she faced significant challenges in her pursuit of education. Inspired by her mother’s dedication to advocating for girls’ rights, Mursal became passionate about fighting for girls’ rights. Now settled in the UK, Mursal has triumphantly navigated language barriers and cultural transitions to pursue her passion for education, politics, and journalism. She aspires to use her voice to advocate for Afghan women and refugees globally. Her story is a powerful testament to the transformative impact of education and the strength of perseverance.
Tell us about yourself. Where were you born? What was your family like? What was it like growing up and going to school?
I was born in Afghanistan. My childhood was full of promise, largely because of my mother, a dedicated head teacher. She was a beacon of hope in our community, especially for girls who longed for an education. However, as the political landscape shifted, education, particularly for girls, became increasingly dangerous. My mother faced daily threats and told me to stop teaching or face severe consequences. Despite the risks, she never wavered in her belief that girls had the right to learn. She became my role model, teaching me that education is worth fighting for, no matter the obstacles.
What challenges did you face as a young woman in Afghanistan that influenced your decision to leave?
My family’s struggles were not just about education; they were about survival. My brother was kidnapped, and for a year, we lived in agonising uncertainty, waiting for news. The ransom demanded was beyond our means, and eventually, we received the devastating news he had been killed. The pain of losing him was unbearable. We sought safety in Kabul, but even there, we were targeted. Our home was attacked with rockets, and my father’s car was bombed. He miraculously survived that attack, only to be killed later at a wedding. At that point, we knew we had no choice but to leave Afghanistan. Staying meant waiting for another tragedy. Leaving meant hope.
How did Afghanistan’s political and societal changes impact your access to education?
The instability in Afghanistan meant that education was never guaranteed, especially for girls. Even when schools remained open, the fear of attacks, threats, and violence made it difficult to study freely. My mother fought for a girl’s education, but she did so at great personal risk. Her determination inspired me, but it also showed me how dangerous it was to be a woman who sought knowledge in Afghanistan.
Were there specific moments or events in Afghanistan that made you realise you needed to leave to pursue your dreams?
The loss of my brother and father, the constant fear, and the attacks on my family made it clear that Afghanistan was no longer safe for us. But beyond just survival, I wanted more than just safety; I wanted the chance to study, to build a future where I could make a difference, and use my education to help others.
How did your family or community view your desire to continue your education as a young woman?
My mother always supported my education, but pursuing education as a girl was not always welcomed in the broader community. There were expectations and restrictions, but I was determined to follow in my mother’s footsteps and continue learning. Trust me, even here, I struggled to go to university openly, but I had to fight.
What were the greatest risks you faced while leaving Afghanistan as a young woman?
Leaving meant stepping into the unknown. It meant abandoning everything familiar: our home, culture, and loved ones, without knowing if we would ever return. But staying meant living in constant fear. The hardest part was knowing that we were leaving behind the memories of my father and brother, saying goodbye to a home that no longer felt like home. The night before we left Afghanistan to the UK, my father went to a friend’s son’s wedding with my little brother. That night, he was attacked by a group of people at the wedding and shot. To this day, I still don’t know how he died.
Were there individuals or groups who supported you during your journey?
Support came in different ways, sometimes from family and strangers who understood our struggle. But when we arrived in the UK in 2018, I had to find strength to navigate a new world.
What were the most prominent cultural adjustments you had to make after arriving in the West?
Everything was different. The language, the way people interacted, and even simple things like how schools functioned. I arrived in a school where I spoke no English, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and customs. It was overwhelming. I felt lost, but I knew I had to adapt to succeed. Every day, I pushed myself to learn the language and understand my new environment.
Did you face any challenges related to language, religion, or cultural differences when settling in?
Yes, the language barrier was one of my biggest struggles. Being unable to express myself the way I wanted sometimes made me feel invisible. But I refused to let that define me. I worked hard, and over time, I gained confidence in my ability to communicate.
Were there Afghan or female support groups in your new community that helped you?
No, not really, but I did get a lot of support from my teachers at school.
What differences did you notice between the education systems in Afghanistan and the West?
In Afghanistan, education was often disrupted by conflict and restrictions on girls. In the UK, education was more structured and accessible, but as a newcomer, I still faced barriers, especially with language. The biggest difference was that I could study freely in the UK without fear.
Were there specific barriers you faced in accessing education as a refugee from Afghanistan?
The biggest barrier was language. Studying subjects like English and science was extremely difficult when I could barely understand the words. But I worked hard, and eventually, I passed my GCSEs and continued to Sixth Form.
What subjects or fields of study are most important to you, and why?
Politics and International Relations are my passions because I want to be part of the conversations that shape global policies. I want to help countries like Afghanistan, where people still struggle for basic rights. Journalism also inspires me because I believe in the power of storytelling to create change.
How has your journey from Afghanistan shaped your understanding of education and empowerment?
I know first-hand what it means to be denied education and to fight for it. Education is more than just learning a tool for survival, empowerment, and change. My journey has determined me to ensure that other girls don’t have to fight as hard as I did for their right to learn.
What are your dreams for the future, and how do you hope to contribute to Afghanistan or the global community?
I want to use my education to be a voice for those who cannot speak. Whether through politics or journalism, I want to bring attention to the struggles of Afghan women and refugees and work toward policies that create real change. Writing my book is one of my big dreams. It will be a big inspirational book for teenagers and adults.
Do you envision yourself helping other Afghan women and girls achieve their educational goals?
Absolutely. I already have experience teaching young children in villages back in Afghanistan. I want to continue that work by supporting Afghan women through mentorship, advocacy, or policy work.
What advice would you give to young Afghan girls or any girls facing restrictions on education?
To every girl who has ever been told she cannot study, I want you to know this: your education is your power. It is your voice, your strength, and your future. No one can take away the knowledge you gain. I know what it feels like to be afraid, to wonder if it is even worth fighting for, but I also know that every book you read and every lesson you learn is a step toward freedom.
When I first arrived in the UK, I struggled with the language and felt like an outsider. I could have given up, but I reminded myself why I had come so far to build a future for myself and the women and girls who never got the chance. It is not always easy, but resilience is about pushing forward, even when the road is uncertain.
Some people believe in you, even when it feels like the world is against you. Seek out mentors, teachers, and friends who will support you. And never stop learning, whether it is in a classroom, through books, or even through personal experiences; education is everywhere.
What lessons have you learned about resilience as a young Afghan woman?
Resilience is not just about surviving hardships. It is about transforming them into strength. I have faced loss, fear, and displacement, but through it all, I have learned that resilience comes from believing in yourself when no one else does.
For me, resilience meant walking into a classroom where I did not understand a word being spoken and refusing to let that stop me. It meant failing, trying again, and pushing myself until I succeeded. It meant carrying the weight of my past while still looking forward to my future.
One of the most powerful lessons learned is that resilience is contagious. When one woman stands up for herself, she inspires others to do the same. I have seen this strength in my mother, who continued to teach girls despite the threats against her. I have seen it in Afghan women who continue seeking education, even when schools are closed. And I have seen it in myself as I navigate this new life with hope and determination.
How can governments and organisations better support Afghan women or any women seeking education?
Governments and organisations must do more than express concern; they must act. Education should not be a privilege; it should be a right accessible to every girl, no matter where she is born.
One of the most immediate ways to support Afghan women is through scholarships and remote learning opportunities. Many Afghan girls are currently unable to attend school, but with technology, online education can be a lifeline. International institutions should create programs specifically designed to reach these students.
Governments should also provide more legal pathways for refugees seeking education. When I arrived in the UK, I had to navigate an unfamiliar system, and many refugee students faced financial and bureaucratic obstacles that made higher education nearly impossible. Universities should offer more support services, including mentorship programs and financial aid for displaced students.
Lastly, there needs to be more representation of Afghan women in decision-making spaces. Afghan women’s education policies should be made with their voices at the table. We know our struggles better than anyone, so let us be part of the solution.
What message would you share with the world about the importance of education for refugees, especially women?
Education is about personal success and breaking cycles of oppression and poverty. When you educate a girl, you do not just change her life but her entire community. An educated woman can support her family, contribute to society, and inspire future generations.
To the world, I say this: do not see refugees as victims. See us as future leaders, doctors, teachers, and changemakers. We are not defined by what we have lost but by what we have the potential to achieve. Given the opportunity, we will not just survive but thrive and give back to the world in ways you cannot yet imagine.
I study today because I dream of a better tomorrow, not just for myself but for every girl who has ever been told she is not enough. I want to be part of a world where no girl must fight for her right to learn. And I hope that through my journey, I can show others that education is the light that leads the way even in the darkest times.
Mursal Hakimi and Noor Kazmi, University of Westminster