My mother-in-law is nearly 80, my mother in her 70s. They belong to a generation in India where education for women was not just a luxury—it was a rebellion.
Born into a farmer’s caste, they were expected to fulfill one role: labor. Children weren’t cherished as individuals but calculated as assets—hands for the farm, bodies for household chores, and insurance policies for aging parents. This wasn’t cruelty; it was survival.
For my mother-in-law, one of 15 siblings, the numbers told the story. Some children were expected not to survive to adulthood. The rest? Their futures were already written—marriage for daughters, farm work for sons. Dreams were neither encouraged nor entertained.
My Father: A Rebel in Disguise
My father was no different in origins, but he was radically different in vision. He only made it to Year 4 before being pulled out of school to work the fields. Yet, something in him refused to accept the boundaries of that life.
Against all odds, he married and migrated alone to Kenya. He wasn’t just seeking greener pastures—he was rejecting the chains of expectation.
Educating Girls: The Radical Act
In Kenya, my father made a decision that would define my life: his daughters would not be laborers. He would educate them, nurture them, and prepare them for a future far beyond the farm.
This was no small rebellion. His sisters mocked him. The community whispered behind his back. “Why waste money educating girls? Their futures lie in the kitchen and the home.”
But my father held firm. His belief was simple yet profound:
“If I can achieve what I have with only a Year 4 education, imagine what my daughters could achieve with more.”
The Fight Against a System
This wasn’t just a fight for education; it was a fight against a system designed to keep women small, silent, and unseen. My father’s courage wasn’t in ignoring the whispers—it was in standing firm despite them.
He didn’t just educate us; he taught us to defy expectations, to question norms, and to dream beyond the limits imposed on us.
The Ripple Effect of Defiance
Today, I’ve worked across four continents, navigating industries, cultures, and challenges. I’ve learned, unlearned, and relearned. I’ve built a career that thrives on adaptability and leadership.
But none of that would have been possible if my father hadn’t dared to step outside his comfort zone.
The Unchanged and the Changed
On a recent visit to my village in India, I was struck by its sameness. The farms are still there, the traditions still deeply rooted. Yet, there was one monumental shift: girls are being educated. They’re no longer chained to the farm.
This isn’t just progress—it’s a revolution. And it started with people like my father, who dared to question “the way things have always been.”
The Brutal Truth About Change
Let me be clear: breaking generational chains isn’t comfortable. It’s not romantic. It’s not a feel-good story for the faint-hearted. It’s ugly. It’s lonely. It comes with backlash, judgment, and sacrifice.
But here’s the thing: if my father hadn’t chosen discomfort, I wouldn’t be here today. I’d likely still be in that village, tethered to a life of servitude on the farm.
What Chains Are You Breaking?
So, here’s the challenge: What chains are you breaking? What norms are you defying? What whispers are you ignoring to build a better future—not just for yourself, but for the generations that come after you?
Because real change demands courage. It demands that we reject the comfort of compliance and embrace the discomfort of defiance.
My father’s rebellion didn’t just change my life. It changed the lives of countless girls in our community who now have the chance to dream bigger, fight harder, and live fuller lives.
The farm is a reminder of what could have been. But my father’s bravery? That’s a reminder of what should be.
The question isn’t whether you can make a difference. The question is whether you’ll have the courage to do it.
