Denied an Education by the Taliban, I Started an Online School for Girls
This article is co-published with The Malala Fund.
I, Robina Azizi, was once among the millions of girls denied an education in Afghanistan. Today, I am the founder of a school that provides learning opportunities to all children who dare to dream. This is my story.
When the Taliban seized control of Afghanistan’s provinces in August 2021, I was a high school student with big ambitions. I was in the middle of my mid-term exams, focused on graduating from a good school and fulfilling my dream of attending a reputable university. I wanted to help my country and support other girls who, like me, were deprived of an education. Each day, I studied hard, motivated to achieve excellent grades. At night, I lay awake, excited to return to school the next morning. I never imagined that my love for learning would one day be taken from me.
On August 10, 2021, after finishing an exam, I was supposed to go home with my friends. But that day felt different. I stayed at school longer than usual, feeling an unexplained sense of unease. As I walked through the streets and alleys of Mazar-i-Sharif, I took everything in, almost as if I knew it might be my last time seeing them.
When I arrived home, I found my mother packing our belongings.
“What’s going on?” I asked her.
“Pack your clothes; we have to leave,” she said firmly.
“But I have an exam tomorrow. I can’t leave my school,” I replied, panicked.
Her voice wavered as she explained, “The Taliban have taken over the districts of Balkh. They could enter the city any time. They force girls into marriage and captivity. Your father, brother, and sister are all in danger. We must leave. Robina, you are a writer. If they find your work, they’ll kill you.”
I sat in a corner of the room, overwhelmed with sadness, regret, and disbelief. Tears streamed down my face as I repeated, “What about my school? I can’t leave. I have an exam tomorrow.”
But I had no choice. It was one of the hardest moments of my life. I canceled my plans, packed my things, and bid farewell to my home district of Balkh. I left behind half-read books and shattered dreams but clung to the hope that I might one day return.
The next morning, my family and I boarded a flight to Kabul. The scene at the airport was chaotic. Crowds of people fled in panic, desperate to escape. Amid the turmoil, I felt as though I had left a part of myself behind in Balkh.
In Kabul, I watched other girls attending school, and my longing to join them grew stronger. I wrote in my journal, “I have come to survive.” Those words became my mantra. Days passed, each one bringing grim news of the Taliban’s tightening grip. When the president fled the country, my hopes for a normal life in Afghanistan seemed to disappear entirely.
But I refused to give up. I turned back to my books, enrolled in courses in Kabul, and began studying English. I promised myself that no matter how hard things got, I would fight for myself and the girls of Afghanistan. I started speaking with families, urging them to let their daughters continue studying.
Eventually, with the help of one of my instructors, I enrolled in an online school. Despite the challenges of limited documentation, I encouraged other girls to join me, helping them with their studies and English courses.
Life under the Taliban was suffocating, but I refused to stay silent. I shared my story on media outlets like Tolo, speaking about the importance of education for girls.
“Do you realize how dangerous this is?” my brother warned me. But I was determined to keep going, no matter the risks.
When the courses I was taking in Kabul shut down, my brother tried to comfort me. “Robina, you are strong,” he said. “These dark days will pass. If you give up, the Taliban win. You must keep fighting.”
In October 2022, my family and I moved to Islamabad, Pakistan. For the first time in a while, I felt a small sense of freedom. I continued taking online classes and inspired other girls to do the same. I knew the world needed to see what was happening to Afghan girls, and I was determined to make sure their stories were heard.
In April 2023, I founded Girls on the Path of Change (GPC), an organization and online community dedicated to empowering Afghan girls through education and storytelling. With my family’s support, GPC started with 20 girls attending our first session, titled “Story of Schoolgirls.” Today, we offer classes in multiple languages, with over 100 students learning from teachers worldwide.
One of our earliest programs included seminars and workshops led by poets and psychologists to inspire girls. Organizing these events under the Taliban’s watchful eye was incredibly challenging, but the results were worth it. We brought hope to hundreds of girls, even in the most remote corners of Afghanistan.
In September 2023, in collaboration with other organizations, 1,000 schoolgirls and I wrote a letter to world leaders, urging them to address the closure of schools for girls in Afghanistan.
By the end of 2023, GPC had grown to nearly 500 students, boys and girls alike. Hundreds of girls successfully graduated from our English courses. With GPC’s support, one student even achieved her dream of enrolling at a university in Malaysia after years of educational deprivation.
In February 2024, my family and I relocated to Germany, where I continue my advocacy for Afghan girls. Alongside my work with GPC, I am pursuing my own studies through an international online school in the United States and a school in Germany.
To every girl in Afghanistan: stay strong and never stop learning. Afghanistan needs educated, courageous women. Together, we can fight oppression and prove that the power of knowledge and education will always be greater than ignorance.
Let’s pledge to never give up, to fight for our dreams, and to show the world that hope is more powerful than darkness.