Girl Rising

This is a simple story.

And it did not begin here.

This thing of beauty. A joy, forever...

rising.

This warm glow in darkness...

like a harvest moon.

A Khmer proverb whispers...

"Celebrate When the moon is bright."

But for years, she was a child of the dark.

A place where smoke blackened sun and moon.

And eyes seldom looked up...

from a world of things tossed aside.

An orphan.

Discarded.

Learning lessons no school would teach.

Hunting through rot, for a glimpse of light.

Metal containers. Silver spoons.

Listening for the sound a palm makes when it finds a plastic bottle.

Careful not to step on used syringes, rusty nails or broken glass.

In daydreams she pictured freshly sharpened pencils.

Rows of desks.

The chant of the alphabet.

Wandering visions to pass long empty days...

in a place where a girl...

is simply one more thing the world has thrown away.

And when they found her...

when this girls dreams came true.

She had not dreamt of gold.

She had not wished for beauty.

Hers was a simple dream.

The bright white shirt of a school uniform.

The crisp pleats of a skirt.

Shelves full of books.

A dream of school.

And how she dances behind a contented smile.

Because she knows this is no longer a simple story.

Now this is her story to write.

She is the author.

And this is not the end.

It is just the beginning.

"GIRL RISING"

This is Wadley.

She's eight years old.

She plays herself from a story of her own life...

that you're about to see.

Just like Sokha did.

And just like the other girls you will meet.

Senna.

Azmera.

Suma.

Mariama.

And Ruksana.

Two others who we'll call Yasmin and Amina...

could not appear in their stories...

out of concern for their safety.

Each of these girls was paired with a writer from her own country...

to help tell her story.

These are true stories...

if sometimes re-imagined to capture to capture the things these girls...

and these writers, want you to see.

And their stories are important.

Because these girls hold our future

in their hands.

If they, and the millions of girls like them...

succeed in getting the kind of education they need...

incredible things will happen.

For them, for their families...

for their communities...

for their countries, for all of us.

Here's the hard truth...

in spite of the fact that educating a girl...

is one of the highest return investments...

available in the developing world...

millions of girls just aren't making it.

Right now, there are 66 million girls out of school.

And many more who struggle every day...

to simply remain where they belong.

In a classroom.

The morning of January 12, 2010 was bright and beautiful...

in a way that Wadley could not remember...

any other morning ever having been before.

It was the dry season, when wildflowers bloomed...

and flowers that gleamed on their own without rain...

fascinated some little girls.

It made impossible things seem possible.

Unachievable things appear doable.

And flowers...

the hibiscus, azaleas, bougainvillea...

they all looked even brighter when Wadley was happy.

Stop dreaming, Wadley.

You'll be late for school.

That morning, Wadley was working to memorize...

Toussaint Louverture's final speech...

as he was removed from Haiti by the French...

after he tried to win independence for the country.

Wadley liked to imagine herself defiant, like brave Toussaint Louverture.

But she also wished she'd been given...

some words by women to recite.

Brave and strong women.

Like her mother.

Wadley, one bag is enough!

Every day, Wadley brought two snacks...

from her mothers tray.

One for herself and one for another child.

That day she chose a new friend, Shelda.

A girl whose father had been killed the week before.

He was a taxi driver and someone had gotten into his car...

with a gun and asked him to get out.

He had refused and the person had shot him.

Soon the moment came for Wadley and her classmates...

to recite their quotes from the history lesson.

Alexandra!

Wadley watched as some of her friends recited...

or failed to recite.

Their stammers, stutters and hesitation...

seemed to her like a long poem.

A love poem to history.

Wadley!

"Overthrowing me..."

"you have done nothing more..."

"than cut down the trunk of the tree..."

"of black liberty in St. Dorningue."

"It will spring back from the roots..."

"Because they are a multitude, numerous and deep."

That afternoon, all Wadley could think was...

it was the dry season, when wildflowers bloomed.

And these words seemed a perfect beginning for her composition.

And a fitting bookend to her day.

For they seemed to emerge, somehow out of the dream...

that she had been having that morning.

Wadley could not remember how she and her mother...

got to the open field near the university.

It was still the dry season...

but wildflowers no longer bloomed.

In the tent camp, she often heard the most dazed of the adults say...

"ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

This they said when they were finally resigned to the fact...

that their missing loved ones would never be coming back.

Life tried to return to normal.

Except now, her mother roamed the city during the day...

looking for friends and family from whom to seek help.

And instead of school, Wadley went to the water fountain with a bucket.

Every day now as she passed through the camp...

and the ruins of her neighborhood...

she thought about school.

Sometimes as she walked by the rubble of the school itself...

she thought she heard the voices of her friends reciting the lessons...

that she now missed so much.

CECILE FATIMA COLLEGE

Mom!

What happened, Wadley '?

The school! The school is open!

I know.

Please go get the water, Wadley.

The school is open.

Why can not I go to school?

Because we have no money.

Money was still not completely clear to Wadley.

She knew there was never enough of it.

That some people had more of it than others...

and that it determined, in many cases...

how people looked at you...

and talked to you, and treated you.

It was the reason some people ate three meals every day...

while others ate every couple of days.

It was why, she was learning now,

that some kids went to school, and others did not.

Wadley, bye bye.

Bye bye, Mommy.

The next morning, Wadley decided that she would go to school...

and sit on the bench in front of Madame Roy...

along with the others.

Not matter that there was no money.

That's what she would do.

Good morning, madame!

Thank you, madame.

Do you go to school here '?

For a moment, Wadley wondered how Madame Roy could not recognize her.

But, remembered Wadley, the earthquake had twisted a lot of peoples minds.

Many people did not even recognize themselves anymore.

Yes, Madame, I was your student here.

I know that, Wadley...

but actually, this is a new school.

Did your mother pay the money?

No, there is no money.

Well, I'm sorry...

But you have to go, Wadley.

Come back when she can pay.

Wadley decided that even though money could do many things...

it was also a curse.

Because only a cursed thing could keep her out of school.

But she was not cursed.

Hadn't she been hearing from her mother and the others in the tent camp...

that those who had survived the earthquake were blessed?

Surely it meant that she was supposed to do something special.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

She thought to herself.

The next morning, Wadley started to the tent school again.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do.

But she was determined to go, and stay.