Shakina Ismail

Age 19
Country: Bangladesh

Shakina Ismail was already standing outside by the time her guests started to filter through the Access Academy’s double glass doors. She squinted in the brilliant Bangladeshi sunlight—the trip had fallen on the only day of clear skies in the past two weeks. Evidently the monsoon season had arrived. She was dressed in her best, her shalwar kameez an electric turquoise and pink combination, embroidered with sequined flowers she had designed and sewed herself. Her face, normally bare, was flushed with makeup, her eyes defined with a dark pencil behind her rimless glasses and her lips shaded a rich maroon.

Shakina grew up in a poor village outside of Chittagong city, one of Bangladesh’s largest cities and its primary seaport. Her village lies off the main highway that snakes from the bustling innards of the city, past the lush green rice paddy fields of the countryside, to a small town where her father earns his living. Here he sells umbrellas in the rainy season and religious outfits out of a small shop. A turn down the narrow street that leads to Shakina’s village offers an instant haven from the havoc of the main road. The path is lined with low-hanging palm trees and the traditional Bangladeshi house, a seemingly fragile structure made of interwoven sticks. Cows and their herders, villagers, rickshaws, and the occasional CNG (threewheeler taxi), pass down this street.

The village itself represents the way many Bangladeshis live in rural areas. Children bathe in the same pond that women wash their clothes in. The pond is straddled by paths that lead to a small primary school, a simple building that nevertheless shows signs of development in recent years. A water pump provides water to the villagers. Towering haystacks flanked by tall trees feed the often-emaciated cow that some of the wealthier families own. Children play barefoot and tend to be clothed in very little, their parents unable to afford new clothing. Education has declined; the pressure to earn money and feed one’s family is more urgent than learning. As Shakina notes, “the majority of my relatives and neighbors are not educated. They are not conscious of education.”

During the car ride to her village, Shakina answered a steady stream of phone calls from her family, doling out instructions in rapid Bangla. It was, after all, a momentous occasion. A handful of AUW faculty members, visitors, and the world-renowned photographer Shahidul Alam were accompanying Shakina to her home to document the background of a typical AUW student. The villagers had prepared for days—outsiders, especially foreigners, rarely visited the area. Shakina sat in the back of the van like a colorful bird preening her feathers, her chest puffed up with pride. The significance of this event, honoring a daughter’s homecoming instead of the son’s, was not lost on us.

Shakina has a studious look, the air of someone who has spent little time outdoors and is happiest poring over a book. She credits her parents for instilling her with a love of learning that has in turn generated a wealth of academic achievements. Unlike many other parents in the village, Shakina’s parents, “not so educated” themselves, have always valued the importance of schooling their children, including their daughters. Shakina is the eldest of two sisters and one brother. Despite considerable scorn from relatives and neighbors alike, her parents have always made the financial sacrifices necessary to give Shakina every possible schooling opportunity, including expensive private tutoring. The villagers loudly criticized Shakina’s parents for such decisions. “They always tease my parents, [saying], ‘why are you spending money on your daughters. You should just marry them,’” Shakina notes.

Shakina’s father is one of the wealthier men in the village; umbrellas and religious objects apparently sell well in a rainy country beset by cruel floods. Shakina’s mother is a housewife. Her family, along with her grandparents, uncles, and aunts, live in a concrete compound with an impressive metal gate, a notable exception to the village’s wooden houses. They also have their own cow. This wealth, however, is only relative to the poverty of the other villagers. Shakina remains one of AUW’s most underprivileged students. The fact that her parents squander whatever financial edge they may enjoy on education raises rankles among their neighbors. But Shakina’s parents simply say: “We don’t want a big house or a big car. We just want to settle our daughters so they can do something for society.”

Shakina attended primary school on a government scholarship until class five, and then passed an examination to become the first student to win a scholarship from this particular school in thirty years. She went through class six and seven on scholarship, and won another scholarship for high school in class eight. She earned yet another scholarship to study at one of the top colleges in Chittagong before being accepted on full scholarship to AUW.

By the time the van pulled into Shakina’s village, a large crowd of children had gathered. A pack trailed us throughout the day; amusement and curiosity were written all over their faces. Shakina fluttered ahead, greeting family and friends. She led us to her primary school where uniform-clad school children showered her with flower petals and the head of school gave her a bouquet. The principal also pointed out Shakina’s name, inscribed on a plaque that was featured prominently in her office. Shakina then arrived to her house to find a feast of fruit, hot dishes, pastries, and desserts waiting. Aunts, uncles, sisters, cousins, and of course, her proud parents, crowded into the small living room to eagerly ply their guests with food. Neighbors observed from atop their roofs and children crouched underneath the compound’s gate to catch a glimpse of the gathering. It was, needless to say, a celebrity’s welcome.

Shakina first heard about AUW from her father while she was studying for her medical exam. She had attended only ten classes at her Chittagong university by this point. She remembers her first reaction to AUW. “It was near from Foy’s Lake,” she recalls, giggling. “I was so happy, I don’t know why, [but] I’ll apply to that university.” Foy’s Lake is Chittagong’s one and only amusement park. Her interest mounted as she went through the application process—the day she heard back from the University was spent in a state of breathless suspense. She accepted her offer from AUW after failing her medical exam. Her parents, having groomed her to be a doctor her entire life, now say it was fate she failed; it allowed her to come to AUW.

Since enrolling in the Access Academy, Shakina’s interests have shifted to environmental science and information technology. She plans to choose the subject that will be the most beneficial to her country. “I want to be one of the top students at AUW,” she says. She has also embraced karate as an extracurricular, calling all self-defense classes “very necessary for women. At least we feel we are more strong.” After earning her international degree, Shakina plans on coming back to work in her country, particularly in her village: “I want to do something for women especially.”

Shakina identifies education as the tool that will transform the gender roles maintained by an older generation. Her father, for all his encouragement, used to tell Shakina: “You are not my daughter, you are my son.’ Her uncle, aunts, and grandparents were all against sending Shakina to university. Now, Shakina’s younger sister, aged 18, plans to follow in her sister’s footsteps and apply to AUW. It seems the precedent has been set.

“Women are always neglected, if they’re educated or not,” Shakina says. “I think if a girl who has a good career like a boy, then never a boy can torture her. Boys can get an opportunity to study, but girls can’t— they get married. Boys criticize girls easily. I think if I can show something for girls, then I think they will realize women can do like a boy.”