Acts of bravery

I recall a very special learning experience as I taught last year at an all-inclusive progressive school. I was sitting in a history class with my co-teacher and a cluster of students. Our eyes were glued to a black and white image on a computer screen: Nine students marched bravely toward their first day of high school, escorted by Federal troops.

As a parent, I can’t imagine the fear experienced by the mothers and fathers of those first nine black students to attend an all-white high school in Little Rock Arkansas. The clips show crowds of angry white faces, and people shouting epithets at these well-dressed, silent schoolchildren.

I asked my all-white class, “If you were a parent, would you have sent your child into that environment? Would you have subjected your children to that level of unrelenting public hatred?”

Only one child said that he would.

This boy had been in special education programs, in essence, segregated because of his disabilities, and in this school, he had discovered acceptance. He was appreciated for those talents that he did possess, and not the shortcomings that conventional school districts often see. That child said “I would have sent my child to that school because it’s what God wanted.”

I asked him to explain.

“God wants the best for all of us, God doesn’t like prejudice. If their parents keep their children away, then the bigots win and God loses.”

I know his perspective must have been born out of experience, an experience that the rest of us can’t comprehend.

Being a parent is a frightening proposition. A parent is the guardian of his or her child’s special gifts. We attempt to foster these gifts, often despite our children’s resistance. After all, we know what’s best. As parents, every glance, every time those tiny fingers slip into your protective hand, every time those big eyes look up at you, your cup of love fills so much more, until it is at the brink of the glass, and you feel you need to carry that cup ever so carefully lest the slightest drop of joy, or talent, or opportunity be spilt. What a triumph it is when your child finally realizes that she must also work in her own best interest, when she allies herself to your wishes for her future. What sorrow when she acts against those interests!

But what of places in the world where the society itself acts against the best interest of your beloved child? Do you send your child bravely into the fray, or do you protect that child despite the potential for lost opportunities? In 1957, African American parents had to make that choice. Today, because they acted bravely, most Americans cannot even conceive of a time when standing up to the system meant risking your life.

This week, I add another hero to my pantheon. This hero doesn’t come from Bangladesh.

He comes from Pakistan.

I must sing the praises of one Ziauddin Yousafzai. A man dedicated to educating women in a Taliban-controlled region of Pakistan, where educating women could be punished by death. He named his daughter for Malalai Nia, a female warrior, who, in the 1880’s, went to the front lines and raised a banner for all Afghanis against the British-Indian forces occupying her country. This unarmed woman had gone to the front, waving the flag, had rallied her people to victory, and had been shot and killed on the battlefield at the tender age of seventeen.

By choosing to name his girl for this hero, at this time and place in history, Yousafazai had inculcated a lesson by which his daughter was to live — Do not back down. You’re never too young to speak for your people.

Yousafazai is an educator from the resort valley of Swat, in Northern Pakistan. As the Taliban took over the region, signs of terroristic rule were everywhere — bodies of beheaded policeman were put on public display, girls’ schools were being blown up, and eventually school attendance became prohibited for women. Under such circumstances, would you send your beloved daughter to school? Ziaduddin Yousafazai not only allowed his daughter to attend school, but also allowed her to blog about life under the Taliban to the BBC. Her anonymous blog spread locally throughout the oppressed region, and she became something of a hero. The girl was thirteen years old at the time.

As Yousafazai worked to restore the Swat valley, he began receiving death threats by local Taliban leaders. His work inspired his daughter to follow in his footsteps. Malala decided to become a politician. His daughter began appearing on television. Father and daughter were among the very few to stand up to the Taliban. As Malala, Yousafazai’s daughter became increasingly famous, winning accolades in Pakistan and beyond, the Taliban began to see her as a greater and greater threat. She began to receive death threats on Facebook.

Would you put your child in harm’s way? Does the danger of inaction outweigh the dangers of speaking out? Could I have been as courageous as Ziadudsdin Yousafazai? I hope to God I never have to find out. When the Taliban finally made the assassination attempt on a fourteen year-old girl, it was, they claimed, because she had been brainwashed by her father. By shooting her, they had delivered a punishment that, for any father, is a fate worse than death.

Why do I include this story, why do I even write about such things? What does this have to do with Bangladesh or the United States? Well, when I began writing this article, I think about the almost gleeful press reaction. It’s a great story, freedom has a new near-martyr, a child. The Western world breathes a sigh of relief. This is what our soldiers in Afghanistan were fighting for. It is wonderful propaganda, and a complete indictment of the Taliban. No doubt in my mind. These people must be evil if they can board a bus, ask for the girl by name, and then put a bullet in her head. Maybe this is our finest hour. Maybe, once more, like in Little Rock, Arkansas, our soldiers are the heavy boots and guitar-strapped machine guns marching children towards opportunity. Maybe the Taliban is the Ku Klux Klan.

But I can’t see Malala as a symbol. Even if her father calls her “a daughter of the world,” I can only see this tragedy through the eyes of a father. I think of the story of Abraham, asked to sacrifice his son, and know I would never have been willing to do the same, if God Himself had appeared and had asked me to. The love of our children often makes cowards of us. That’s why I am moved by the sacrifice of Ziaduddin Yousafazi. Christians say “God so loved the world that he gave his son…” Malala said, “If the new generation is not given pens, then they will be given guns by the terrorists.” This she said at age eleven. She said “We should say ‘no’ to wrong. We must have courage… we must raise our voice.”

Malala wanted to be a doctor. Her father wants her to be a politician. Ironically, it will be both the doctors and the politicians who save her life. If I could, I’d send Yousafazai a picture of a doctor, Dr. Ernesto “Che” Guevara, and let him know that a doctor can save lives as a politician, but a politician cannot save lives as a doctor. In any case, I look at this sweet face and thank God for brave fathers, who send their children to school because that is what God wants.