By Sondos Saleh, participant in the She Leads program
When I was in third grade, my mother surprised me with three dresses: pink, white, and lilac. She told me to pick one for my elementary school graduation ceremony. I still remember my messy hair that day, but I chose the white dress anyway. I imagined myself wearing it proudly once my hair was styled for the big celebration.
But life had other plans. Financial hardship forced me to leave school before graduation. The white dress never made it out of the closet. For years, it hung there — a painful reminder of a dream cut short. I grew up thinking acceptance meant surrender, that what we lose in this life could only be restored in heaven.
My sister Sally, however, never let go of hope. I used to pray that she would never carry the same sadness I did. Then came the miracle: Sally was awarded a scholarship through the She Leads program, implemented by the Arab Renaissance for Democracy and Development (ARDD). I wasn’t eligible — I was only sixteen — but on my birthday, I received the news that I had been accepted. It felt like a divine gift.
That was the beginning of a new understanding for me: acceptance is not giving up. It’s about living, creating, and finding your own way. Circumstances are not a wall, but a force that can push you forward. With this mindset, I joined a six-month media training, and my journey truly began.
Fear didn’t disappear overnight. It tried to pull me back into the “dark circle” I knew so well. But then another chance with She Leads came along. I hesitated until my mother reminded me: “Time passes quickly — don’t waste the opportunity.” Her words gave me the courage to keep going.
In the program, Sally and I began addressing issues we saw every day: domestic violence, girls being denied education. In one session, we shared a symbolic image — a matchstick lighting a candle. They are different, yet they complete each other. Our message was simple but powerful: “We need one another to shine.”
Step by step, I gained the tools to understand rights, politics, and advocacy. My team even won first place in an international competition on women’s empowerment in the labor market, competing with peers from Jordan, Lebanon, and Egypt.
Today, I am no longer just a statistic. I am an activist, a defender of girls’ and disability rights, and a UNICEF global ambassador. Yes, I have a physical disability. Yes, I use a wheelchair. But it doesn’t confine me — it gives me wings. As I often say: “It made me fly while sitting.”
I even co-authored a regional policy brief on online violence against girls, and I traveled by plane for the first time in my life — to Lebanon. None of this would have been possible without my mother. She dedicated everything to us, hiding her exhaustion behind a smile, putting her own dreams aside. “Mama forgot herself for our sake,” I often say. “Our success is the fruit of her sacrifices.”
After three years of challenges, Sally and I opened our own photography studio. We turned our knowledge into deeper understanding. Because knowledge alone isn’t enough — you need to truly make sense of it. That’s why I wrote a booklet on early marriage and girls’ right to education, titled Understanding Knowledge, to share the spirit of She Leads with the world.
And what about the white dress? It finally came off the hanger. But this time, I didn’t wear it as a little girl at graduation. I wore it as a leader, an advocate, and a woman who transformed her story. The white dress no longer symbolizes a lost dream — it is now the dress of empowerment. And I must say: it has never looked more beautiful.
