By Shuhra Koofi, Campaigns Officer at Send My Friend to School

I come from Afghanistan, a country where, for decades, the right to education has been politicised, weaponised, and stripped away from those who need it most, especially girls.
My own story is rooted in the extraordinary journey of my mother, who, in her time, was the only girl in her family allowed to go to school. That single act of permission didn’t just change her life; it transformed the destiny of an entire family, her community, and even our country. Education opened doors no one in her community imagined were possible. She became not only a Member of Parliament but also made history as the first female Vice President of the Afghan Parliament. Her life is a testament to how powerful education can be: a force that can lift generations.

But her journey came at a cost. Because of her education and the role she played in advocating for women’s rights, she was targeted by extremists who wanted to silence her. One day, while we were travelling together, she was attacked, shot and injured while sitting in the car. I was with her. In that moment of chaos, I managed to take her to the hospital and get her the help she needed. Her survival and strength in the face of violence only reinforced my belief in the transformative power of education, especially for women.

Her influence didn’t stop within our household. She dedicated her career to helping others gain access to education, especially those in rural villages in Afghanistan. Hundreds of lives were changed by the schools she established, a living example of how an educated woman could uplift countless families who might otherwise never have believed in the power of learning. When she lost her husband at the age of 26, she made the decision not to remarry, focusing instead on raising me and my sister, her only two children, and ensuring we had every educational opportunity. For her, education wasn’t optional; it was the strongest tool we could have to change our lives and fight for our futures.

From a very young age, I accompanied my mother on her travels to the most remote and rural areas of Afghanistan. These weren’t just political missions, they were journeys into the heart of communities facing deep hardship. Starting from my early primary school years, I would speak to villagers in the only way a child could, encouraging them to vote for presidential candidates who supported girls’ education and promised to rebuild the system after the Taliban’s first regime ended in 2001.

Those travels were my earliest education. I saw children with no access to schools, teachers with no resources, and families forced to choose between sending their daughters to school or marrying them off due to poverty. The weight of those choices, between a future secured through education or a present secured through marriage, left a lasting imprint on me. It revealed how poverty, inequality, and patriarchal norms can destroy not just opportunities, but entire generations. These experiences planted the seed of my lifelong commitment to justice and equality and shaped the path I walk today.

I pursued a degree in Political Science in Afghanistan because I dreamed of becoming a politician, just like my mother. I believed that political power was the most effective tool to reform broken systems. But when the Taliban returned to power in 2021, everything changed. The hopes of millions, especially girls, were crushed. Overnight, education and opportunity disappeared.

That moment reshaped my vision. I realised that while politics can write the laws, it’s education that shapes the minds capable of rewriting them. I shifted my focus and came to the UK, where I pursued a Master’s degree in Education and International Development. As a refugee, I brought with me the stories and dreams of those left behind, and a mission to keep those dreams alive.

After graduating, I began working directly with Afghan students, over 800 of them, providing underground education for girls banned from secondary school. I offered online English classes to keep girls connected to learning. I partnered with volunteers from UK and US universities who mentored students, helping them build confidence and find global opportunities. I personally visited these students under the UNICEF Protection project, despite the intense security situation, to motivate them and ensure they kept their spirit alive despite the challenges.

During my visit, I met with many of the girls in my underground education programme. They expressed deep gratitude for at least having online and underground education as an option, but alongside their gratitude was a heavy sadness. They spoke of feeling deeply hopeless about being locked out of the formal education system. Without access to formal schooling, they cannot receive a recognised degree, pursue higher education, or follow the paths that would allow them to achieve their dreams. Many of them feared that without education, their only future would be early marriage, and a life of limitations. Their dreams to become doctors, lawyers, teachers, or leaders felt so far away. But still, they showed up, learned, and hoped. Their resilience gives rise to mine every single day.

Education, especially in conflict-affected countries like Afghanistan, is more than a right, it’s a form of resistance. That’s why it’s so often targeted. The Taliban didn’t just ban girls from school; they also redirected many boys into madrasas, using education as a tool of indoctrination. If you shape the curriculum, you shape the future. And that’s why controlling education is always among the first priorities of authoritarian regimes.

This conviction drives me in my current role as Campaigns Officer at Send My Friend to School. I’m proud to be part of a movement that advocates globally for the right to education and empowers young people to raise their voices. Every campaign, every classroom conversation, every meeting with MPs is a step toward a more just and educated world. I hope one day, I will be able to take my knowledge and experience from the UK to help millions of girls and boys in need of education in Afghanistan. But until that time, I continue to work with Send My Friend to School, a platform that believes in the work of people like me.

My story is just one among many, but it’s a reminder that education is never just about textbooks or classrooms. It’s about dignity, agency, and hope. And when everything else is taken away, the fight to learn becomes the fight to live freely.