Around her, unspeakable acts unfolded, things neither adult nor child should witness. Starting at age 11, she chronicled the horror, humans slaughtering humans over nothing more than the right to bully others into submission. Sickened by it all, her act of defiance intended to achieve something so simple yet so avoided. For her commitment to peace, Malala Yousafzai won a national peace prize.
In her blog, Malala chronicled life in the Swat Valley under the brutal and oppressive rule of the local faction of the Pakistani Taliban, who carried out public floggings, hung dead bodies in the streets, and banned education for girls.
In early 2011, the militants had added Malala to their hit list.
Taliban, you declared yourselves the grand cowards of the world. You who think mere bullets stops messengers of peace, you who believe fighting and oppression protect your insecurities and irrational fear of the power of women who reach for our stars. From afar, I stand with Malala.
Here, a roll out of bed and taps on a keyboard expresses solidarity intermixed with outrage, with no need to look over my shoulder. This child wrote with death staring her in the face, where whispers of dissent called danger forward, never mind her clarion to the world.
Brave, so brave. Bravery needed for a simple wish, because a group of idiot militants cannot accept an environment where everyone can thrive and be all they wish to be.
We send wishes, good thoughts, and prayers for her recovery.