Why Is It So Hard Just To Dream?

Silhouette of a young woman on her laptop
Unable to secure a visa appointment, a young woman’s goal to study at Holy Cross is on hold for now, but, hopefully, not forever: “No matter how many doors close, I don’t give up on my dreams.” HCM has silhouetted the author to protect her identity.

Editor's Note: Prior to her current work as a graduate student at Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs, Grace Manning ’21 spent the previous two years working in Rwanda with Afghan refugee girls at the School of Leadership Afghanistan. With a desire to continue her advocacy and stay connected to Afghan culture, Manning worked with a young woman living in northern Afghanistan, whose education was cut short due to the resurgence of the Taliban in 2021. The pair worked together to research colleges and the young woman made Holy Cross her first choice when applying to schools last year. She was admitted early decision, and the College provided her with the financial support to make her dreams of college a reality. 

“I personally was overjoyed at Holy Cross’ decision to admit this young woman,” Manning says. “She is determined, intelligent and hardworking, and in my time getting to know her, I have been impressed and inspired by her resilience, more times than I can count. She deserves an education, a career and a future. I was thrilled that Holy Cross, despite challenges faced by academic institutions in the country today, chose to stand against injustice and gender discrimination, and to support the dreams of an Afghan girl.”

However, the young woman’s visa appointment was canceled over the summer, and as of the time this issue went to press, has not been allowed to be rescheduled. As a result, the young woman had to defer her enrollment as a member of the class of 2029. Through Manning, her mentor, she submitted the reflection below. Holy Cross Magazine has withheld her name, as well as details of her experience, to protect her identity.

Right after I met with my academic advisor at Holy Cross and picked my courses, I saw the news — 11 countries were banned from traveling to the U.S. And, of course, Afghanistan was on that list. 

I can’t even explain how that felt. I’ve been trying for four years to study in the U.S. because here at home, as a girl, I’ve been denied my right to education. I always hoped maybe I could find a way to continue my studies somewhere else. Finally, this year, I got admitted to the College of the Holy Cross in Massachusetts — one of the best liberal arts colleges. Last year, I had more than six offers from different universities, even Bard College Berlin, but none of them came with full scholarships. Holy Cross gave me their highest scholarship — but there was still more than $2,000 left to pay for health insurance and books. For my family, that’s a lot of money. 

I felt stuck. My mom, who used to be a science teacher and now works as an assistant teacher — since girls’ secondary schools are banned — earns just $70 a month. My dad is a shopkeeper, barely getting by. My brother can’t find a job because of this regime. And me? I rely on small online jobs — that’s all I have. 

So, I decided to meet with my Holy Cross financial aid counselor and tell her everything. She was so kind, she really listened. I told her, “I’m so grateful for the scholarship, but my family simply can’t afford even what’s left to pay.” A few days later, I got an email — they covered the remaining costs. I was so relieved, I cried. 

Then, my mentor connected me with an assistance fund, which could help with my travel and visa expenses. 

Things were finally starting to work out. 

During this time, I was hired for a job in which, for the first time, I could actually go to work in person like other girls. It felt amazing.

In early summer, I resigned so I could prepare for college and for my visa appointment trip. 

But, now, all I keep hearing is bad news — visa appointments for international students are being paused. I try to stay hopeful, but it’s hard. I worked so hard for this opportunity. I think of all the girls like me who just want a chance to study, and it hurts so much to see that chance slipping away.

I’ve always told other girls, “Your voice matters.” Now, this is me using mine.

I told my mentor, “I hope this is the last bad news I hear. I can’t give up now.” But, deep down, I’m scared. I’m scared my visa will be denied. I’m scared I won’t be allowed to leave. I’m scared the Taliban will discover the work I’ve been quietly doing around gender advocacy, as well as amplifying Afghan girls’ voices.

I’ve also done research with one Ivy League university about Afghan girls’ situations and even met with journalists to report about it — all in secret, all in fear. But I still take the risk, because someone has to speak up for Afghan women. 

And now, today, I just feel broken. That’s why I’m writing this. Writing is the only thing that helps me when I feel this way. I’ve always told other girls, “Your voice matters.” Now, this is me using mine.

I don’t know what I did to deserve this. Is it because I’m Afghan? Is it because I’m a girl? I have no place in my own country — and now other countries are shutting the door, too. 

I still hold hope for a better future. No matter how many doors close, I don’t give up on my dreams — I keep pushing forward, believing that something will eventually open up. This year, I plan to apply to European universities and work toward earning a scholarship. That’s where I stand, for now. 

Why is it so hard … just to dream?