Sometimes, signs come in the most unexpected form. They have the ability to reorient you, make you pause, and make you remember what really matters. In this time of deep uncertainty and chaos, I am always on the lookout for signs. But I wasn’t expecting it to come in the form of six young teenage girls from Afghanistan.
This extraordinary moment occurred during a recent Meidas Canada town hall I hosted in Victoria, British Columbia.
I didn’t see them enter the hall. Strange, perhaps, given the fact that the majority of the crowd was white and middle-aged. But it was a packed event, and the energy level in the room was high. People had come out to discuss how to build local resistance to Donald Trump’s threats.
At the end of my talk, I asked if there were any questions from the audience.
There was a commotion at the back of the hall. A group of six dark-haired girls began to move up the side aisle with their hands in the air. Apparently, they had heard about the resistance town hall and wanted to have their voices heard.
I invited them onstage.
They told me they were studying in Canada but that their journey here had been a nightmare. They faced extreme risks in escaping the Taliban, and they were forced to travel without adult protection.
I was struck by how poised they were standing in such a large hall of strangers, but then again, if they were brave enough to outwit the Taliban, commandeering the stage at the Meidas town hall was a piece of cake.
Their message was simple but impassioned: Canada could not abandon the girls of Afghanistan. They begged Canadians to step up because so many of their generation were living a nightmare existence of abuse and denial.
As these young women spoke, my mind raced with conflicting memories of all the big promises I heard in my years in Parliament about helping Afghanistan.
I remembered the early days of Canada’s involvement in Kandahar when we witnessed chest-thumping speeches from government ministers. I knew so many young Canadians who answered the call and went over, hoping to make a difference in freeing the young women of Afghanistan. A lot of Canadian blood still lies in that soil.
I remembered the long struggle that followed as the veterans fought for the support they were entitled to.
And then came the chaos following the American pullout. It wasn’t the West’s finest hour. There was plenty of shame to go around.
As the girls told me of their belief that Canada would do the right thing, I was remembering the faces of the Afghan interpreters who stood on the steps of Parliament pleading for their family members who had been left behind. They had served our country faithfully, and yet as the last planes left Kabul, so many were abandoned.
The young women spoke of the nightmare and shame of being teenage girls forced to deal with the barbaric nature of health services under the Taliban.
This took me back to the many urgent phone calls I received during the Kabul collapse from midwife activists like Bridget Lynch. Bridget was a passionate advocate pushing Parliament to step up to help the young women health workers that we had trained - now targets for death by the incoming Taliban.
I remembered the chaos but from a distance of 17,000 kms. These young women saw it up close. They described how fast the nightmare descended.
“We knew nothing of Taliban. We had not been born when they were in power. And then suddenly in a single day our whole lives fell apart.”
One day, they were going to school and dreaming of university. The next day, they were chased out of the streets. They had become prisoners in their homes. Disoriented and frightened, they tried to find ways to keep their education going online even as the Taliban set out to cut off contact with the outside world.
These young women who had escaped knew they were the very lucky few. That is why they had been bold enough to enter a town hall event full of strangers and make their way to the front of the stage - to plead with us not to leave their sisters and cousins behind.
They believe that Canada is a symbol of hope and tolerance. They see our land as the embodiment of freedom.
I needed to hear that message. I needed to hear it badly.
For the last number of weeks, I have been increasingly concerned by the rising levels of racist bile online – the demands to end immigration, to close our borders, to force the deportations of people who have found sanctuary in our country.
These women might be total newcomers, but they already embody the best of our nation. Little wonder that the entire hall stood and cheered them on, then flocked to them to find ways to assist.
That is who we are as Canadians. No matter what MAGA or the MAPLE MAGA extremists claim, we will never give ground when it comes to the fundamental Canadian principles of inclusion, diversity, and yes, mercy.
But that requires stepping up when we are asked.
The young women had been invited to Canada by Women Leaders of Tomorrow – a Vancouver-based group working to help young girls escape the Taliban and continue their education. They are working with the University of Regina on providing education and community.
I have also been in touch with a young Afghan leader studying at George Brown College in Toronto. We will be sharing her story in an upcoming instalment of the Portraits of Courage series.
Sustaining this lifeline takes resources: $40,000 to support one student for a year.
I made a promise on that stage to be there for these young women.
And I’m asking you to help, too.
Please consider donating to Women Leaders of Tomorrow.
Thank you.
Now, THOSE are portraits in courage!!
Thank you for this.
You could also contribute to Canafian Women for Women in Afghanistan who continue to offer now online education to girls and women there. C4WA.ca