At 7:30 AM, my alarm goes off. I moan and complain, scrolling through my phone for twenty minutes before finally getting dressed, brushing my teeth, and packing my bag. Off I go to school, wishing I could just stay in bed
At that exact moment, seven time zones away, another girl my age wakes up. There is only complete silence. There is no phone to check, no rush to get ready, because there is no school for her to go to
At 10:00 AM, I’m sat on a school bench, laughing with my friends. “Are you for real?” I gasp, as my friend tells me some ridiculous gossip from her weekend.
While my clock strikes 10:00, she is stood in her cramped, dusty kitchen seven time zones away. She peers out of the window , listening to the suffocating quiet of her house, wondering what the rest of the world is doing.
At 3:00 PM, the school bell rings. It’s finally the end of the day. My phone buzzes with a text from my mum: “Hey hun, please can you pick up a loaf of bread on your way home?” I sigh, completely annoyed. “Are you for real?” I mutter to myself, mad that my free time is being ruined by a chore.
Seven time zones away, her brother walks into the room. “We need milk. Walk to the shop,” he orders. “Keep your head down. Don’t speak or look at anyone. Not even the shopkeeper.” She closes her eyes and sighs. Are you for real? she thinks, terrified of what happens to girls who walk the streets alone.
I walk into my house, loudly complaining to my mum about how I have no freedom, how strict my teachers are, and how much I hate school.
Seven time zones away, she steps out into the blazing afternoon heat. Her eyes are shielded by a thick piece of fabric. Her entire body is covered; not an inch of skin is showing. She walks with her shoulders hunched, trying desperately to blend into the shadows, praying she draws no attention from the morality police .A group of boys are playing in the street. She has to navigate past them. Are you for real? she whispers in her mind, looking at the boys’ freedom, wishing with everything in her soul that she could just play outside
that evening, my mum walks into my bedroom. “Do you want a takeaway for tea?”
“Are you for real?!” I ask because we never get a mid-week takeaway .Seven time zones away, she walks back through her front door and hands over the milk. She opens a nearly empty cupboard, wondering what tiny scraps she can scrape together to make a meal for her family
The real difference between me and her isn’t the distance. It’s that she wishes she had the right to go to school, get an education, and build a career. Meanwhile, I moan about the very education that gives me my freedom