Approximately one quarter of girls in developing nations are not in school.
Not to be misleading, this is not because they have made the choice not to be, but because they have been kept from going. The parents’ mantra is, “Girls work, boys learn.”
Why?
Boys have an inherent promise to their families, their parents in particular, that later on in life they will still provide for them, even after marriage.
Women, on the other hand, are married off and don’t associate as often with their birth parents following that. Obviously, an educated son is of more benefit.
Wrong.
Woman as Hero, an ASU club dedicated to the provision of education for young girls, is aware of the educational deficiency developing countries face and of our own surplus of options.
This past week the club aired a documentary in Discovery Hall on the Tempe campus called “The Girl Effect.”
The documentary closely follows Mercy, a Ugandan 8-year-old, and several young girls in Uganda and Nepal. Their tribulations are seemingly insurmountable and humbling.
Studies compiled in the documentary proved that an extra year of schooling results in larger wages by nearly 20 percent.
Not only that, but when women and girls earn income, 90 percent is given to family members, whereas sons give 30 to 40 percent.
Despite that, women are married off and impregnated at early ages, keeping them out of the classroom. Poverty spirals from the lack of education in women, who play a dominant household role.
They don’t attend school, and their children don’t attend school, either.
Awareness is the first and only step. Considering the distance that bridges young women in the U.S. and girls like Mercy, voicing approval of education for girls may be an only option.
And yet, although far apart, Ugandan and U.S. girls are uncannily alike.
In “Girl Effect,” Mercy’s first day in a Ugandan schoolhouse, devoid of desks and chairs and obscured by dirt, her emotions mirror our own: excitement, nervousness, hope and dedication.
Although they are in a different setting, our emotions and adrenaline are similar.
We must prize the first-class education we get in the U.S.
What differs is its value. Mercy’s fears are vast: Can her parents afford to live while she attends school, and doesn’t work? Will there by a sufficient supply of schoolteachers?
Will she be married before she completes school — often by age 15 — leaving her unable to read and write?
Mercy struggles to attend school, while students in the U.S. luckily attend each day.
Rebekah Zemansky, a journalism graduate student at ASU, is gracious to have accessible education.
“(I appreciate) independence of thought, information, and hopefully someday financial independence, (and) options,” Zemansky wrote in a Tweet.
Young ladies in developing countries are too often left without options, and as a consequence, are left without an education.
With our privilege of education comes innovation.
It’s recognition by innovative clubs on campus, like Woman as Hero, and individuals like Zemansky that play a role in a bigger picture.
Education is a privilege fought for and earned. Prize the desk you sit in, and take heed to your professors.
You tread on a campus spanning an entire city, and Mercy sits amongst other students in Uganda, searching for a plot of grass to perch on, where there is only dirt.
Reach the columnist at bemorri1@asu.edu
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