Olivia: Okay, Jackson. I Am Malala. Five words. Go. Jackson: Girl's diary becomes global weapon. Olivia: Ooh, I like that. Mine is: "Ordinary family, extraordinary courage, world changed." Jackson: Yours is more hopeful. Mine sounds like a spy thriller. Olivia: Well, your spy thriller angle isn't far off. Today we're diving into I Am Malala: The Girl Who Stood Up for Education and Was Shot by the Taliban by Malala Yousafzai, co-written with the journalist Christina Lamb. And what’s incredible is that Malala became the youngest-ever Nobel Peace Prize laureate for the activism this book documents. Jackson: Youngest ever. That's just staggering. It sets the stakes so high from the very beginning. You hear that and you immediately think this person must be some kind of historical anomaly, someone born different. Olivia: And that’s the exact paradox we need to start with today. Because before the global icon, before the Nobel Prize, there was just a girl in the Swat Valley. A girl whose father, Ziauddin, did something quietly radical from the moment she was born.

Jackson: What do you mean, radical? What did he do? Olivia: In Pashtun culture, especially at that time, the birth of a son was a massive celebration. Gunfire, parties, congratulations. The birth of a daughter, however, was often a somber affair. A moment for commiseration. Daughters were seen as destined for a life behind a curtain, serving the men in their family. Jackson: Wow. So a daughter’s birth was basically seen as a loss. That's a heavy way to start your life. Olivia: Exactly. But when Malala was born, her father, Ziauddin, refused to follow that script. He celebrated. He looked at his baby girl and saw not a burden, but a future. And then he did something truly unheard of. He took the family tree, a document stretching back 300 years filled exclusively with male names, and he drew a line from his own name and wrote ‘Malala’. Jackson: Whoa. That’s more than just a sweet gesture. That’s a political statement written in ink on a family document. He was literally writing her into a history that was designed to exclude her. Olivia: He was. He was declaring that her life mattered just as much as any son's. And this wasn't a one-off thing. He named her after a legendary Pashtun heroine, Malalai of Maiwand. Jackson: Malalai of Maiwand? I’m guessing she wasn't known for staying behind a curtain. Olivia: Not at all. She was a young woman who, during a key battle against the British in 1880, saw the Afghan soldiers faltering. Their flag bearer had fallen, and they were about to retreat. So she took off her veil, used it as a banner, and marched onto the battlefield, shouting poetry to rally the troops. Jackson: That is unbelievably brave. What happened to her? Olivia: She was killed in the fighting, but her courage turned the tide of the battle. The Afghans won. She became a national hero, a symbol of courage and speaking out when it matters most. So when Ziauddin names his daughter Malala, he’s not just giving her a name; he’s giving her a legacy to live up to. Jackson: It almost feels like he was consciously programming her for greatness. Naming her after a warrior-heroine, writing her into the family history... It’s like he saw the storm coming and was building a fortress of a person to withstand it. Olivia: I think he was building a person who believed in her own voice. He himself had to fight to find his. The book talks about how he had a terrible stutter as a child. His own father, a religious scholar, would get frustrated with him. But Ziauddin was determined. He entered public speaking competitions, practicing for hours, and eventually turned his greatest weakness into his greatest strength. He became a powerful, persuasive speaker. Jackson: That makes so much sense. A man who fought to have a voice would never deny his daughter hers. He understood its value on a deeply personal level. Olivia: Precisely. And he built his life around that value. He and a friend scraped together every penny they had to start a school, the Khushal School. Malala essentially grew up inside this school. Her playground was a classroom. Her world was filled with books and ideas and debate. Her father would have these late-night political discussions with his friends, and unlike other girls, Malala was allowed to sit and listen. Jackson: So she was absorbing ideas about politics, justice, and freedom from a very young age. It wasn't just formal education; it was an education in critical thinking. Olivia: Yes, and an education in morality. There's a really telling story in the book where, as a little girl, she gets into a spat with her friend Safina and starts stealing her toy jewelry out of revenge. It becomes a compulsion. Jackson: A classic childhood crime. I think I "borrowed" a few Pokémon cards in my day. Olivia: Right? But her parents find out, and instead of just punishing her, her father talks to her about honesty and integrity. He quotes Abraham Lincoln: "It is far more honorable to fail than to cheat." He uses it as a profound teaching moment about character. Jackson: That’s incredible. He’s not just teaching her to be smart; he’s teaching her how to be good. When you put all these pieces together—the name, the family tree, the school, the moral lessons—it feels less like she was a random girl who got shot and more like she was the product of a very intentional, very loving, and very radical upbringing. Olivia: That’s the core of it. Her courage wasn't a superpower she was born with. It was forged, day by day, in this ordinary-seeming home that was, in reality, a factory for producing a free-thinking, principled human being. And that human being was about to collide with a force that wanted to destroy everything her family stood for.

Jackson: So you have this incredibly empowered young girl, raised to have a voice. And then, this force of absolute silence, the Taliban, rolls into her valley. That's a collision course. Olivia: It’s a head-on collision. And it didn't start with guns; it started with a voice. A man named Maulana Fazlullah started an illegal radio station, which people called Mullah FM. At first, he was popular. Jackson: Popular? How could a Taliban leader be popular? Olivia: Because he was clever. He didn't start with threats. He started by acting like a reformer. He’d talk about giving up bad habits, being a good Muslim, and he’d criticize the corrupt government officials that everyone was fed up with. He was tapping into real frustrations. People listened. Women, especially, loved him at first and donated their jewelry to his cause. Jackson: Ah, the classic "wolf in sheep's clothing" strategy. He builds trust by addressing legitimate grievances, and then... Olivia: And then the message begins to change. Slowly, he starts issuing edicts. Music is now forbidden. Movies are forbidden. Men must grow their beards. Women must not go to the market. And then comes the main target: girls' education is haram, forbidden by Islam. Jackson: And he's just broadcasting this over the radio? Olivia: Every night. His voice became a constant presence of fear in the valley. He would read out the names of people who defied him, denouncing them as sinners. Then his followers would take action. They started collecting TVs, CDs, and DVDs, piling them up in the streets and setting them on fire. Black smoke from burning culture filled the sky. Jackson: That is a terrifyingly vivid image. It's not just a ban; it's a ritual of erasure. They're literally burning stories, music, any alternative to their own narrative. Olivia: And they were burning schools. By the end of 2008, the Taliban had destroyed around 400 schools in the Swat Valley. They would bomb them at night, leaving behind nothing but rubble. It was a systematic campaign to plunge the valley back into darkness. Jackson: It's just so telling. They have guns, bombs, a whole militia... and they're terrified of a girl going to school. Why? What are they so afraid of? Olivia: They're afraid of exactly what Malala represents. An educated girl is a girl who asks questions. She can read for herself and interpret the world for herself. She can't be as easily controlled. She might grow up to be a doctor, a lawyer, a leader. She might raise sons and daughters who also think for themselves. Education isn't just about learning facts; it's about creating a mind that can't be shackled. That is a direct threat to an ideology that depends on absolute, unquestioning obedience. Jackson: So an educated girl is a threat to their entire power structure. Her mind is a weapon they can't confiscate. Olivia: Precisely. And Malala, encouraged by her father, refused to be silent. She started speaking to journalists. She began writing a diary for the BBC Urdu service under a pseudonym, Gul Makai. She was just a teenager, but she was documenting the truth of their lives—the fear, the defiance, the desperate hope to just go back to school. She was using her pen as a weapon. Jackson: And that made her a target. A very specific one. Olivia: A very specific one. The threats started coming. Notes left at the school. Warnings from Fazlullah on the radio. Her father was scared, her mother was terrified. But Malala had this incredible conviction. She famously said, "If one man, Fazlullah, can destroy everything, why can’t one girl change it?"

Olivia: Her question—why can't one girl change it?—is at the heart of why they came for her. They're afraid because a pen creates ideas, and ideas can't be killed. Which is why they tried to kill the girl holding the pen. Jackson: The day of the shooting. The book opens with it, and it's just chilling. Olivia: It's unforgettable. On October 9, 2012, she was on the school bus with her friends. A young, bearded man stopped the bus, and another boarded. He had a handkerchief over his face. And he asked a single question. Jackson: "Who is Malala?" Olivia: "Who is Malala?" The girls looked at her. Her identity was revealed in their gaze. And he raised a pistol and fired three shots. One hit Malala in the head. The attack, of course, was meant to silence her forever. To make an example of her. Jackson: But it did the exact opposite. Olivia: It did the exact opposite. It was the shot heard around the world. It turned this brave girl from a regional activist into a global symbol. The attempt to extinguish her voice gave her the biggest microphone on the planet. Jackson: And yet, the book that tells this story, the one we're holding right now, is incredibly controversial and has even been banned in some private schools in her own country. How is that even possible? Olivia: It’s a complicated and painful part of her story. In Pakistan, she's a divisive figure for some. Conservative groups accuse the book of being disrespectful to Islam. They point out that it quotes her father defending freedom of speech in the context of Salman Rushdie, which is a huge red flag for extremists. Jackson: So it's seen as too Western, too liberal? Olivia: Yes, and it's also critical of Pakistan's powerful army and intelligence services, which is a line you don't cross lightly there. There are conspiracy theories that she's a Western agent, that the whole thing was staged. It's a reflection of the deep political and cultural divides in the country. The very forces she was fighting against are still trying to control her narrative, even after everything. Jackson: That's heartbreaking. To survive an assassination attempt only to be viewed with suspicion by some of your own people. It shows the fight is so much bigger than just the Taliban. It's a fight against a mindset.

Olivia: And that brings us full circle. You see the whole story now. The ordinary upbringing in a loving, principled family gave her the conviction to speak. And the violent, extremist attempt to silence that conviction is what made her voice global. Jackson: It’s a profound lesson. It proves that the most powerful forces for change often don't come from established power structures. They come from the simple, fierce belief of one person who refuses to be silenced. Olivia: One person who was taught her voice mattered from the day she was born. The book is a testament to her, but it’s also a testament to her father, Ziauddin. It’s a story about parenting, about education, and about what it takes to build a person who can stand up to the world. Jackson: It really reminds me of that powerful line from her speech at the United Nations. It just perfectly encapsulates everything. Olivia: It really does. She stood there, on her 16th birthday, and said: "Let us pick up our books and our pens. They are our most powerful weapons. One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world." Jackson: Chills. Every single time. It's such a powerful message of hope and defiance. It makes you want to ask, what arms you? We'd love to hear from our listeners—what's a book or an idea that you feel has armed you in your own life? Let us know on our socials. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.