By Aliya Kuzhabekova, Co-Editor of Gender and Education in Central Asia

Malala Day is a reminder of what it means to fight for education—not just as a right, but as a possibility. Every year, we reflect on the power of girls’ voices and the courage it takes to raise them. And every year, as a mother of a very intelligent and ambitious teen daughter, I find myself thinking not only about the well-known stories of activism, but also about the everyday efforts of girls and women who persist in quieter ways.

This year, I am especially aware of those stories. I recently co-edited a book titled Gender and Education in Central Asia, together with my colleagues Zumrad Kataeva and Naureen Durrani from Nazarbayev University. The book brings together research from both experienced and early-career scholars studying the situation of women in post-Soviet countries of Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Turkmenistan. Many of these scholars are women from the region, who know the experiences of their subjects from their personal experience. The book has become more than a publication for our team of authors—it became a space for shared reflection, questioning, learning, and mutual empowerment. 

Central Asia is not always visible in global discussions about gender and education. Yet the region is full of diversity and complexity. The countries of Central Asia have formal policies that promote gender equality as a result of commitment to international declarations on women’s rights and a legacy of the Soviet times. Girls attend schools and perform better than boys on international assessments. In my native country of Kazakhstan, women are statistically ahead of men in higher education enrollment. But these numbers do not tell the full story. 

Through the research in our book, we show how gender norms continue to shape educational experiences of girls and young women in Central Asia—often in subtle but powerful ways. In our region, girls are more fortunate than Malala, who had to struggle for the right to attend school. However, they face quieter forms of restriction—social pressure, economic constraints, or simply the absence of encouragement. Societal and family expectations continue to influence what girls can imagine for their futures. 

Some chapters in our book explore how gender is represented in school curricula, shedding light on the messages that are passed on to children—not just through words, but through omissions, images, and silences. Others examine access to education in rural areas, where geographic isolation, economic hardship, and conservative gender norms often intersect to create significant barriers for girls. Several contributions focus on higher education, investigating the gender dynamics of academic leadership and underrepresentation of girls in STEM majors and research careers. Together, these chapters show how education can be a powerful space for questioning stereotypes and expanding opportunities, but, at the same time, can reinforce existing hierarchies and gender norms.  

Many of the women’s stories we heard as researchers were about limitations, frustrations, and the slow pace of change. At the same time, we also heard the voices of resistance and agency. These were voices of teachers trying to create a more inclusive classroom, of girls refusing to leave school early to get married, of young researchers committing to STEM fields despite strong discouragement from relatives and colleagues. 

However, the book reflects not only the stories of the participants of our studies. The book is also grounded in our own experiences. One of the most meaningful aspects of working on this book was the chance to engage in a dialogue with colleagues who live and work in Central Asia. Their research is not distant or abstract. It is often shaped by their own experiences as students, educators, and women navigating systems that were not always built with them in mind. 

Malala Day reminds us of the importance of voice. But it also reminds us of the importance of listening—to the girls whose stories are not often heard, to the researchers who write in their second or third language about countries that few heard about, to the educators who work quietly to shift mindsets in difficult environments. 
 
For me, listening and making the voices heard is not only a professional commitment, but also a personal one. As a researcher from the region, and as a woman who experienced gender stereotypes myself and observed how gender barriers shape the lives of my mother and daughter, I see how easily we can overlook the knowledge that grows from lived experience. That is why we made the book open access: we wanted the voices of girls and women from Central Asia to be heard by all those, who need to hear them, who can get inspired and learn from our experiences.  

On this Malala Day, I think about the girls in Central Asia who are already leading, even if the world has not yet noticed. I think about the women researchers who keep going, often with limited resources and without recognition. And I think about the role we can all play in making education more just, more open, and more empowering. 
 
Aliya Kuzhabekova is Assistant Professor in the Werklund School of Education, University of Calgary, Canada. She is co-Editor of Gender and Education in Central Asia, published by Palgrave Macmillan.