I had set aside this weekend to host a young friend and her
two small children. We were going to visit thrift shops, picnic at a nearby lake,
splash in the pool at the Y down the street.
But she called to say she had a new, much needed job.
So she
spent the weekend cleaning hotel rooms, her kids spent the weekend in a
relative’s concrete back yard, and I’ve headed off in my kayak.
It hardly seems fair.
But then, much about life is far from fair.
When I was a kid, my grandmother often said, as she sent me
off to school: “To whom much is given, much will be required.”
I had no clue what she meant.
We lived in a wealthy suburb of New York , where most of my friends had maids
or nannies, two cars in the driveway, vacation homes. By seventh grade, or
ninth at the latest, most of them would be in private school, at all the best
academies.
And I wore hand-me-downs, helped my grandmother drag the
shopping cart to Gristedes, a mile away, and tried not to let too many friends
know that she watched other people’s kids and did ironing for neighbors to make
ends meet.
Given?
Really?
Yet, the more I see of life, the more I understand what she was saying. I went
to great schools. Lived in towns with wonderful libraries. Grew up in a state
that made higher education possible for anyone willing to study. Never doubted
that I could go to college, even grad school, if I wanted.
I thought of all that as I went with friends this week to
watch Girl Rising, a powerful, troubling documentary about nine girls in nine
different countries. Each story was written by a writer from the girl’s country, in conversation with the girls themselves, and each was filmed in a
way that caught the hopes and struggles of the individual girl .
Beautiful Suma of Nepal, bonded into labor at six, taught to
read by a social worker after long days of work, survived by writing
lovely, haunting songs of sorrow.
Sokha, Cambodian orphan living and working in a city dump, searched for bits of metal to sell, a throw-away child in a throw-away place, until rescued and given home, school, future.
Buoyant Wadley of Haiti : she was seven when the
earthquake destroyed her school, and defiant when told only children with money
would be able to continue to learn.
Yasmin, of Egypt , tells a police officer the story of a violent attack. She knows where the attacker lives, and could lead the officer to him. Her mother cries for justice, and the officer, though sympathetic, shakes his head sadly: “In this world? No.” That cry for justice, and it's denial, echo in my mind.
Azmira ofEthiopia .
Village elders told her widowed mother to marry her off at thirteen, but her
older brother intervened, insisting she have the chance to continue in school. Every girl needs a brother like that.
Azmira of
Ruksana lives with her parents and two sisters in a
makeshift home on a city street, dreaming of beauty, wondering why some people
live in worlds like those she glimpses on tv, while police smash their simple
dwelling and leave them homeless in the monsoon rains.
Mariama of Sierre Leone has two mothers, a father, and her
own radio show. Joyful, confident, determined Mariama.
Amina, “a girl masked and muted,” tells a story of servitude
and repression. From the age of three she was carrying water to wash men’s
hands, scrubbing, serving, working in silence. Sold as bride to her twenty year
old cousin when she was just eleven in exchange for money her family spent on
a used car for her brother. Her first
son was born nine months later.
Amina was one of two girls whose names were changed, and for
safety reasons weren’t able to show their faces, yet her great sorrow,
fierce anger and deep determination came through strongly, as did her
accusation of all who live in freedom and fail to speak on behalf of those who
suffer in silence.
Don’t assume, she says with feeling, that this is a religious
issue. Women of her country, of her faith, lived in freedom before, and enjoy
freedom in other countries now.
Child marriage and bride prices were banned inAfghanistan in
1921. For decades women were free to go to school, to hold jobs, to move about
in freedom. Since 1996, Afghan women have been pawns of patriarchal power,
facing violent enforcement of repressive restrictions.
Child marriage and bride prices were banned in
I know almost nothing about the political realities that
shape Amina’s life, that hold her in bondage. Does that excuse me? "Your silence," Amina says, "has already spoken for you."
I find myself trying to see my world through her eyes: small
children free to play, teen girls not yet burdened with pregnancy, women able
to move and speak in freedom.
And I find myself wondering about that convoluted sentence
my grandmother used to say: “To whom much is given, much will be required.”
I didn’t know at the time that she was quoting Jesus, speaking in Luke 12:48.
She would have known King James version: "For unto whomsoever much is
given, of him shall be much required."
What have I been given?
Education, opportunity, freedom, resources.
Education, opportunity, freedom, resources.
Time, money,
information.
What’s required? How?
The other story that haunts me is that of Senna, young teen
from Peru .
Girl Rising: Life in the World's Harshest Town |
Her story is set in La Rinconada, a gold-mining town high in
the Andes, reportedly the highest city in the world, a thousand feet higher
than the highest peaks of the Alps .
Her town, according to her, has more prostitutes than
children. No running water, no sewage.
Her father named her for Xena, Warrior Princess, although he
couldn’t spell the name. He never went to school, but wanted her to learn all
she could. After he was injured in a mining accident, her mother and sister
went to work cracking mining waste, looking for small remnants of ore, while
Senna convinced the owner of the public outhouse to pay her for coming early
every morning to clean the stinking holes, so she could work, avoid the lure of prostitution, and still remain in school.
As she lost her father to depression, then death, Senna
discovered poetry and began to write her own.
Watching her, her determination, her struggle, I found myself wondering, as I wonder often: Why was I born here, in a beautiful place, with good health
care nearby, excellent schools, clean bathrooms, green lawns?
I sit in my air-conditioned house, watch the hummingbirds visit my honeysuckle vine, wonder why I have the right to vote, to work, to
drive, to read. To wear what I want, go where I want.
I have the world at my fingertips – literally. FIOS internet
connection. Functional HP laptop.
I find myself wondering, as I review the movie, rethink the girls' stories: what are you asking?
10x10act.org, the organization that created the film in partnership with CNN and Intel, has started a fund for girls’ education. Donations
to the fund are distributed between seven other partner organizations,
including CARE USA ,
World Vision, Partners in Health, Room to Read.
It costs sixty dollars a year for school fees and uniforms in many places.
A year of teacher's college can cost less than a thousand dollars.
It costs sixty dollars a year for school fees and uniforms in many places.
A year of teacher's college can cost less than a thousand dollars.
So yes, money is required.
But more than that.
Carrying those nine girls’ voices with me, I find myself
humbled, thankful, hopeful, sad.
I want justice for each of them. In this world. Soon.
And I want choices, and beauty, and safety, and love.
Schools. Teachers. Books. Pens.
How much would we need to give to make that possible?
This is the last in a series on women and girls:
- Talitha Koun. Girl Rising, July 15, 2013
- Freedom is Indivisible, July 7, 2013
- What Do Teenage Girls Need? June 30, 2013
- Sweet Taste of Freedom, June 23, 2013
- Courage, Hope Generosity, June 9
- With All Your Mind? June 2