Fatima Rezaie is an education activist who uses her platforms (instagram and Facebook) to share educational opportunities for Afghan youths, especially women, inside and outside Afghanistan.
When you grow up and study in a community with little to no resources, dreaming big can feel like a luxury. Opportunities don’t knock often, and when they do, they’re easy to miss. Sometimes, all it takes is one “yes,” one act of belief, from a single source of hope to push you one step closer. What does it take for a girl in rural Afghanistan to break through? A strong will? The right timing? Or just one small chance in the right moment?
I am writing here today because a modest investment in me by USAID changed the entire trajectory of my life. While this will always be my story to tell, I am sharing it now because the very concept of foreign aid is under attack, and the agency that provided this aid to myself and so many others is shuttered. That money, distributed through USAID, had a profound impact on countless lives, including mine.
In 2016, when I was in Grade 10 at a small-town school in Herat, Afghanistan, a new subject was added to our curriculum called “Royesh,” with the goal of empowering young women by teaching us how to start a business. It was part of the USAID Promote Women Leadership Program that encouraged women’s full participation in community by building their confidence and equipping them with the skills they need to succeed in the public and private sector. As someone always eager to try new things, I was super excited to see what it had to offer.
For this new subject, we had two trainers who taught us how to plan, market, and operate a business. We engaged in activities that put us in the shoes of customers and business owners. The class was fun, and the topics were exciting, a completely new experience I had never had before.
Towards the end of the school year, the program provided funds for girls to complete secondary school education. The funds weren’t for every single Royesh trained student, but for those who can successfully get to the final round after submitting their application. In my school, only around 600 students above grade 10 were part of this program. And that’s not even counting the thousands of students receiving the same training in Kabul, Balkh, Kandahar, Nangarhar, and other public schools in Herat. I was terrified to apply as my chances felt like anything below zero, but something inside me whispered, why not? Just submit your application. At the end of the day, it’s better to try and fail than to give up and live with regret. Failure may be temporary, but regret can last forever. One day before the deadline, after going back and forth with myself, I submitted my application. With no experience writing essays or telling my story, I was beyond relieved when my application was accepted. According to the USAID’s report on Women’s Leadership Development Program, a total of 6,436 applications had been received under needbased scholarships; 5,012 had been reviewed by the selection committee, and 2,735 had been selected as final candidates. And I was among the 2,735 people. The scholarship award totaled 35,000 Afghani (about $500), enough to cover two years of high school, school supplies, and university entrance exam (Konkor) preparation courses.
This fund gave me the freedom to stop feeling ashamed of asking my parents for money, or worse, giving in to marriage just to secure financial support. Would I have been lucky enough to marry someone supportive? Only God knows. Though my parents never pressured me to marry, I never wanted to be a burden to them, especially since they had three younger children to care for. But I’m grateful that this fund gave me the support I needed to complete my secondary education and work hard for my future.
Turning Determination into Results
With that scholarship, I invested every penny back into my studies. In Afghanistan, medical school is considered a pathway to lifelong stability, and as a top student, the social pressure to pursue medicine was intense. I enrolled in rigorous Konkor preparation courses, bought essential textbooks, and took weekly practice exams to test my knowledge. I began these courses at the start of grade 11, while many aspiring medical students start as early as grade 9 or 10. I simply couldn’t afford them earlier. That small but crucial amount of funding came as a huge relief and enabled me to catch up and continue chasing my goals.
By the end of Grade 12, while preparing for medical school in Afghanistan, I also began exploring opportunities to study abroad. One of the programs I applied to was the Education for Leadership in Crisis program, offered by the U.S. Embassy in partnership with the American University of Beirut. I found out about it through my cousin, who saw an advertisement on TV while visiting his in-laws. He took a photo and sent it to me on Telegram.
A TV ad, a golden opportunity, and a fearful me, who didn’t even feel qualified enough to apply. There were only 15 seats for girls across all of Afghanistan. Could I really be one of them? Impossible, I thought. But thanks to my cousin’s encouragement, I submitted the application anyway, and the rest was history.
After successfully passing the first round of exam, I had to take the TOEFL test. TOEFL, or “Test of English as a Foreign Language,” is a test I would need to pass to enroll in an English-speaking university. I was thrilled for making to this point, but when I read the line: “You are responsible for the TOEFL test fee”, my excitement quickly turned into anxiety.
At the time, the cost was $215, which was equal to two months of my mom’s salary. Her income supported a household of six, so it was impossible to ask her for help. I rushed to check the small stash of money left from USAID fund I had hidden in my closet, and to my surprise, exactly $200 remained. It felt like a miracle. The remaining amount was kindly covered by Women for Afghan Women, an NGO in Kabul that had partnered with the U.S. Embassy to support applicants through the admission process. I will always be grateful to them for stepping in at that critical moment.
I took the exam, scored well, advanced through multiple rounds, and ultimately won the scholarship.
From Lebanon to United States of America
Over the course of my undergraduate studies in Lebanon, I graduated with high distinction, represented Afghanistan at international conferences in South Korea and France, learned Arabic, and even explored Lebanon more than I ever had in my own country. I went on to pursue a master’s degree at an Ivy League university, launched my social initiative Educate2Empower on social media – where I’ve inspired thousands of Afghan youth to chase their dreams despite fear and uncertainty – and ultimately secured my U.S. Green Card.
Was I extraordinary? Perhaps. But the truth is, my story isn’t the exception, it’s the proof. That initial $500 from USAID started a chain reaction of opportunity.
Thanks to those funds, I:
- Took the TOEFL.
- Studied abroad.
- Founded an educational initiative.
- Became a U.S. green-card holder
- prepared for medical school
That small amount wasn’t a drop in the bucket, it was the first stone cast in a ripple of lifelong change.
Why This Matters
In Afghanistan, where educational access, especially for young women, is inconsistent and now, with the Taliban being in power, non-existent, programs like this break cycles of disadvantage. The establishment of American University of Afghanistan in 2005 with the support of USAID empowered hundreds of Afghan youth, especially Afghan women. After the Taliban takeover, the university continued its operations online and at its new campus in Qatar, despite funding challenges, and kept alive the last hope for a brighter future for its female students.
Afghan women have played a key role in the development of the country across different sectors, and their continued presence is crucial for rebuilding a nation that has gone through decades of turmoil. After the fall of the Taliban regime in 2001 and before their rise in 2021, educational opportunities expanded at all levels. The infant mortality rate was cut in half, and the gross national income per capita nearly tripled in real terms, from US$810 in 2001 to $2,590 in 2020 (adjusted for purchasing power). Afghan women played a key role in livestock and dairy production, crop processing, and producing export goods like carpets, hides, karakul skins, and wool. In the 20 years before the fall of the republic, they launched around 57,000 small and medium-sized businesses with donor support.
The 2021 education ban stripped Afghan women of their fundamental right to education and has had widespread negative effects on their lives. Aid groups warn that, with growing hardship and no access to school, more girls are at risk of child labor and early marriage. According to the U.N., Afghan girls without secondary education are more likely to have children young, miss out on child immunization, and marry off their daughters before 18, making lack of education a key driver of deprivation. More importantly, the education ban has taken a severe psychological toll, with Afghan women and girls reporting anxiety, depression, PTSD, and suicidal thoughts. That’s why urgent action and sustained humanitarian funding are more critical than ever.
This ban on education hasn’t only silenced classrooms, it has triggered a chain reaction of deeper crises. Violence against women has sharply increased. The legal assistance programs and special courts that once protected women and girls have been dismantled. With no systems of support in place, many now suffer in silence. At the same time, forced and early marriages have surged across Afghanistan, as desperate families marry off their teenage daughters, often to prevent them from being taken by Taliban fighters. That’s why restoring access to education is not just a policy issue, it’s a lifeline. Without it, every other intervention will be incomplete.
Such investments:
- Keep girls in school.
- Encourage them to dream beyond traditional roles.
- Build local ecosystems of ambition and action.
Every dollar invested yielded returns in the form of thousands of empowered students who will pave the way for further improvement. In order to save the current and future generations, the necessary actions must be taken. Foreign aid can be a lifeline for others like myself.
The first and most vital step is addressing the elephant in the room: allowing women and girls to return to school. Regional and international actors, including both Muslim and non-Muslim countries, organizations like the United Nations and the Organization of Islamic Cooperation, must take stronger, unified action. It has been almost four years since the Taliban stripped Afghan women of their basic right to education, robbing the country of talent, potential, and a future that those young women could have helped build.
At this point in Afghanistan’s crisis, humanitarian grants are absolutely essential to support women and girls in continuing their education. For many, international scholarship programs offer a vital pathway to pursue their studies in safe, stable environments abroad. For example, through a new partnership, the EAA Foundation, supported by the Qatar Fund for Development (QFFD) and USAID, will mobilize US$50 million, equally contributed by both parties. This funding aims to enroll over 100,000 out-of-school children and provide nearly 2,000 post-secondary scholarships, helping thousands of Afghan students regain access to education and opportunity.
Equally powerful are the contributions of everyday individuals, especially those with time, knowledge, or resources. Volunteering with organizations that teach English to Afghan girls, or mentoring them through the process of applying for educational opportunities abroad, can be life-changing. You can’t imagine how powerful and meaningful it is for a girl in Afghanistan to have someone who believes in her, guides her, and helps her navigate a path she never knew existed. This August marks four years since the Taliban took power and stripped women of their right to education. Your support, no matter how small, can be part of the resistance to that injustice. You can find a non-exhaustive list of organizations helping Afghan women at the end of the article.
In retrospect, that $500 investment did more than support one Afghan girl, it sent a message: your future matters. My life today stands on that moment, and on the confidence that someone believed in me far before I believed in myself. Humanitarian investment is a catalyst and Eight years later, its impact in my life is undeniable.
Below are a list of organizations, curated by Fatima, that support the education of Afghan women, which you can support through donations or volunteering:
Women Online University
SOLA
Code to Inspire
Education Bridge for Afghanistan
Right to Learn Afghanistan
AYLA
Learn
Alliance for the Education of Women in Afghanistan
Sahar Education
Afghan Girls Financial Assistance Fund
