Malala Yousafzai has been my hero since 2012, when she was shot by the Taliban for attending school whilst being a girl. As a woman whose main joys in life are derived from school and education, this IMMEDIATELY struck a chord with me, and in my first year of university, I fell head over heals for Malala.
If I could brunch with ANYONE, Malala is my number one choice.
Of course, there are politics and controversy surrounding Malala as a political activist and recipient of the 2014 Nobel Peace Prize, but I’m not interested in having mimosas with the press, or her media team, or any of that.
I’d like to eat my poached eggs with Malala Yousafzai, the teenager.
I would ask her what she thinks of Taylor Swift’s new album, and about her views on the recent Charlie Hedbo attacks and subsequent controversy.
I would ask her what it’s like to be the most famous teenager in the world, and if she ever struggles with body image or teen angst.
I would ask her what she will do once every child is in school, how she will spend her days once her dream is realized.
I would ask her about her proudest moments, about her family dinners. I would ask if she misses her home, if she can feel at home in a new country, if she can feel at home in one that nearly killed her. I would ask her if she’s ever lonely.
I would ask Malala what her favourite colour is, what her favourite meal is, and who she looks up to.
I’d ask Malala if her poached eggs were okay, and if she liked the restaurant.
I’d tell her I never really understood how hopeful I could be until I heard her story.
I’d tell her that being a teenager sucks, and that I can’t quite imagine what it would be like to have been shot, and to have recovered in the spotlight where the whole world could see her. I’d ask Malala if she feels like a teenager at all, or if her experiences have bore into her soul like an old tree.
I’d ask Malala if she thinks we can really create change.
I’d ask Malala if her coffee is alright.