From the memoir: Malala recounts her first visit to Pakistan after the attempt on her life
Excerpt from ‘Finding My Way’ by Malala Yousafzai
When I arrived in Birmingham for spring break, I told my father that we needed to go to Pakistan. If my college friends could visit their home countries on holidays, I felt I should be able to do the same. The waiting was wearing me down; it seemed that if it didn’t happen now, it might never happen at all.
“Let’s put it off until summer,” he said.
His words frustrated me. I wanted him to understand how determined I was.
“If you want to wait, that’s fine. I’ll go on my own,” I replied sharply. “I will book my own flight, take a cab, and call Moniba to collect me when I land.”
Inside, I knew I probably wouldn’t go through with it, but perhaps my father didn’t. That uncertainty gave me a small sense of power. Still, every time we reached out to people, the same response came back:
“It’s not the right moment for Malala’s return.”
My father had heard it countless times, and I feared he was starting to accept it. I couldn’t. The phrase infuriated me.
“It will never be the ‘right’ moment!” I cried. “I am a Pakistani citizen with a valid passport. They have no reason to stop me.”
I spoke with anger, but inside I felt heartbreak. At 24 Obs, surrounded by reminders of home—food, music, sports, and language—the longing for Pakistan had grown stronger than ever. That deep reconnection felt both joyful and painful, like warmth returning to a frozen limb. I was tired of scrolling through old friends’ profiles and wandering my hometown’s streets virtually. I couldn’t keep living between dreams of home and the disorienting reality of waking elsewhere.
Author’s Summary
Malala Yousafzai recalls the emotional strain and determination she felt while longing to return to Pakistan after surviving an attack, torn between memory and exile.