
Syrian Women at the Heart of the Revolution
These women are not just names in the memory of the revolution, but rather a foundation for building a free Syria. Their struggle is a living testimony that change begins
My name is Ayah. I was born in Homs and we left the city in 2011 to my mother’s hometown in the countryside. Our house in Homs was destroyed after a while, and I never saw it again. In 2013, at the age of 11, I left Syria with my family and moved to Jordan. I was an ambitious child, but being the eldest amongst many siblings forced maturity to invade my childhood… my ambitions were quieted down by my responsibilities. Living in Jordan altered my accent to a strange mix of Homsi and Jordanian. It was a harsh place, different from the greenery I was used to seeing around me in Homs.
I had a thirst for learning that was unlike anything else in my life and I did not want to let go of my ambitions, not when I left Homs, not when I became a foreigner in an unfamiliar place, and not when we discovered my brother was sick. In 2016, we received a call from the United Nations telling us that we’ve been chosen to immigrate to Canada. I had just started grade eight and finally met some friends, so the news was shocking. A part of me didn’t want to start all over again, but the idea became appealing when I realized that my brother could be saved in Canada; but on the night of our departure, at two in the morning, he passed away. The plane left, and we were left behind.
On that day, as I watched my parents from a distance, I felt a sense of dread wash over me. My responsibilities became more important. I was the mother and the father to the rest of my siblings. Our family started getting used to our new reality during the six months before our rescheduled flight. On June 1st in 2016, we arrived at the Halifax International Airport, but the happiness I thought I would find slowly slipped away. Only a month after our arrival, we discovered that my youngest brother had the same illness that my late brother passed away from.
Despite the technologies, the advanced medical care, and the kindness of all his doctors, he also did not make it. I will not talk about the grief that surrounded our lives afterwards, as there is no reason to do so. What I want you to know is that today I am a university student planning to attend medical school, known by my friends as a cheerful, smiley face, as though my life had always been as perfect as I’d hope it was. This story is for my fellow Syrians and everyone in the world who needs hope in their lives. I consider these successful achievements a source of happiness. Perhaps that’s untraditional, but it is what makes me who I am, and I will still be ambitious.
These women are not just names in the memory of the revolution, but rather a foundation for building a free Syria. Their struggle is a living testimony that change begins
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