Writing Your Resilience Podcast Episode 60

The Power of Words: Samman Akbarzada on Finding Her Voice After Fleeing Afghanistan

Today’s episode is one you won’t want to miss.

Imagine working tirelessly for years to publish your first novel—only to have the moment of celebration collide with the collapse of your country. Imagine being forced to flee, leaving behind everything you’ve ever known, and yet… still finding your voice through poetry, storytelling, and advocacy.

Today, I have the honor of speaking with Samman Akbarzada—a poet, novelist, refugee, and fierce advocate for human rights. Her novel, Life is a Movie, tells the story of a working child in Afghanistan, while her poetry collection, A Glimmer in the Dark, captures the heartbreak of exile and the enduring hope of survival.

In this episode, Samman shares her extraordinary journey—from receiving over 500 rejections before her first book deal, to escaping Afghanistan under harrowing circumstances, to rediscovering her voice and purpose in the United States. We’ll talk about the power of storytelling, the resilience of the human spirit, and how writing can bear witness to both personal and collective grief. Stay with us for this deeply moving conversation—because stories like Samman’s remind us why words matter.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:00]
Well, hello, Samman. It is an absolute pleasure to have you on the podcast today. Welcome.

Samman Akbarzada [0:07]
Thank you so much, dear Lisa, it's a pleasure to be here with you.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [0:10]
Well, I'm super excited because I saw you at the Women's Initiative Challenge in the Change event last fall, and you were one of the readers. I was absolutely blown away by the poem that you didn’t just read—you recited it, and you recited it with so much passion that I was absolutely captivated listening to you. I knew immediately that I wanted to have this conversation with you to talk about your books. And so, I'm going to hold them up for the people who are watching this on YouTube, Life is a Movie, which is her novel, and A Glimmer in the Dark, which is Samman’s poetry collection. What would you like us to know about you, Samman?

Samman Akbarzada [1:19]
Thank you so much for the kind introduction. I’m humbled. First, I want to say how much I love the way you have phrased that question, because usually people ask, "Where are you from? What do you do?" You just said, "What would you like for us to know?" And in a way, it feels like my life is... I’m not commodifying my existence, but whatever I can share. I have the heart of a poet and the mind of an advocate. That's how I like to introduce myself. I am a refugee from Afghanistan. I love writing, I love hiking, I love reading, and I’m here in the United States. I moved here two years ago.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [1:59]
Yeah, and you came just as your book was published. So, can you tell us a little about your motivation for writing Life is a Movie, and then also what happened around your publication process?

Samman Akbarzada [2:15]
That is a very important question because it opens this Pandora's box of all my experiences that I’ve had since I was young. At six years old, I loved writing, and I started writing poems and short stories. I had a wild imagination, and my way to express those imaginations was through writing. But when I was in my early teenage years, I noticed that my writing was shifting from fantasy and sci-fi genres into something more real, something more connected to the reality around me. As a young woman in Afghanistan, of course, you're surrounded by so much violence and cruelty, and being in a war zone, writing became my sanctuary. I always like to say, poetry saves me a seat in the chaos, and that was what writing was doing for me. At the same time, I really wanted to get published. It was my greatest goal. And being on the other side of the world, writing in English, it’s very isolating. You don’t get the support that you need. So, I would receive rejection letters every single day, and to the point where I received almost 500 rejection letters for my short stories, scripts, and everything combined. The requirements to get published would be, you know, your location is so important—can you do interviews? Can you be in a certain place? But I still wanted to write. I’m glad that I never stopped writing, because it was a part of my existence. I needed it, like we need air to breathe.

Life is a Movie—the inspiration behind that is, it was during COVID, and I was a high school student. While going to school every day, I would see young working children. In Afghanistan, there are over 2 million working children who are out of school, and they must sell cigarettes, cotton candy, gum—anything on the sidewalks—to survive the day. And while being a kid myself, going to high school, seeing them, it was difficult. But I would always promise myself that one day I would become something and do something for these children. But when COVID hit, I couldn’t see those kids anymore. There was this one specific boy who used to sell cotton candy, and when COVID happened, the police emptied the streets. Of course, no one was allowed to be outside anymore. So, I was thinking about that child—what happened to him? Does he have enough food to survive the day? To cope with those thoughts, I wrote this novel, Life is a Movie, which is about a working child and his mother in Afghanistan. And I think in my story, he gets the happy ending, but the reality is that they don’t. I wrote this book and got the contract in May 2021. Finally, the acceptance letter came, and I was so excited. I gave a few interviews. I was looking forward to the publication date, and in May, we set the publication date for August 2021. At that time, things were pretty calm. We had no clue that Afghanistan was going to collapse. I personally grew up listening to the stories—of course, we would see their horrors in a school attack, unfortunately, or they were lurking around. But we never really faced the Taliban, and we didn’t know that something like that could happen until August 2021. I was sitting on my bed, and that day was supposed to be, I thought, the happiest day of my life—to finally get published. But it was also the time that Afghanistan collapsed. Instead of celebrating my book, I was going around deleting interviews and asking people to remove my name from their websites. And I had to leave because in this book, I’ve called out and criticized the Taliban’s regime, which is very misogynistic.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [6:26]
Yeah, so the listeners of this podcast are trying to get published. They’re working very hard. When you talk about having over 500 rejections of your short stories and other work, all the people who are listening are going to be like, "Yep, I understand what that's like." And yet, you have experienced what, for many people, is beyond their worst nightmare, which is... they’ve done what should feel like you’ve arrived, you know? “I got my book contract, I have this published thing, I am holding a book in my hand,” and your entire country collapsed, and you had to flee because of how you talked about the Taliban. 

For me, I grew up in the United States, and I remember in the 1990s there was a lot of talk about the Taliban and how the Taliban was persecuting women and all the things that were going on. We were signing letters of protest and things like that for the government. I read several different stories, but it is different to read about these stories in emails or in other places, but then to have a novel that really shows the brutalities of trying to survive in an environment where your very existence is unwelcome. That was one of the things I connected with when I was reading your novel—the level of the desire to survive and how many obstacles there were, especially for Rukshar, the mother, right? How unwelcome she and her son were. And then also how easy it was for someone to get beaten and for it to be completely acceptable. There were times in the United States when that was probably more normalized, and domestic violence certainly happens, often behind closed doors, in the United States. So, it’s not that it doesn’t happen here, but in this story, it’s happening out in the open, and it’s very sanctioned.

Samman Akbarzada [8:28]
Yeah, I’m so glad you’ve read this book, because you pointed out some crucial points. That is the point of writing behind this book. I wanted to showcase how important it is when we come across people who are really going through this to not be silent. Because there’s a scene where she’s getting beaten, and she can hear the people walking who probably heard her voice, but they don’t do anything. That is what plagued me—and still does—the indifference when it comes to such injustices and people suffering at no fault of their own. We hurt them with our silence and indifference.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [9:08]
And you could have chosen, given your experience—you’ve published this book, you immediately must flee your country, you end up in Rwanda with your mother, who is very sick, and then you eventually make it to the United States. You could have chosen to quit writing. You could have said, “You know what? This is a bad omen. This is not for me,” and yet that is not what you did. So, can you tell us a little more about how publishing a book in this environment and this other experience helped you connect with your writing in a different way?

Samman Akbarzada [9:43]
That is a very profound question. Of course, when I evacuated from Afghanistan, when I was there, I was in survival mode, trying to get out. But once you're out, you're like, "What now?" In Rwanda, I couldn’t write. I went through severe writer's block. I would sit in front of the beautiful hills there until morning, and nothing would come to me. I couldn’t write. I had lost my voice, and it was terrifying because writing to me has always served as that sanctuary, and I was physically, mentally unable to do it. I was just frozen in time. 

So, there’s this movie named Limbo, and it’s about two refugees from Syria and Afghanistan. One of the characters says to the other that there is a bird in Afghanistan who forgets how to sing. Then the other character asks, "What happens to the bird?" and the response he receives is that the bird dies out of sadness. For some reason, that just stuck with me so much, and I didn’t want to forget my voice. 

Slowly, one morning in Rwanda, it was very windy, and that wind reminded me of Afghanistan's afternoons, where the weather would get so windy and chilly, and you could enjoy your tea. So, I wrote my poem: I miss the way wind blew in my motherland. And that’s a glimmer in the dark, lifting its soil, heaving my heart. It was one of the most beautiful feelings to finally connect and be able to write again. I guess the reason why it happened is that I do not know any other way to exist other than writing. And the significance of writing is that it gives me a voice, and through me, a voice to the people who don’t have one, who are not being heard, and are forgotten. I could be another forgotten story. If I was there, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. And I know what it is like to be there and to not be heard and to not have a voice and to be forgotten. So, if writing is a way for me to have witnesses to my experience and to what it feels like to be an immigrant, then it’s my responsibility to make sure I’m not losing that voice.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [12:06]
And I’m so glad that you are using it on behalf of yourself and your own experience, but also on behalf of all the women and girls who are in Afghanistan right now, who have been silenced because of the Taliban regime and all the things that it’s doing. You know, when I was reading your poetry collection, what came through to me was this deep love of country as well as this deep heartache for a place that is really complex. There's the complexity of the experience that you had around your book publication in the fall of the Taliban. But, you know, as I was thinking about what your experience may have been like, and I want to check in with you to see if this really is your experience, most of your time growing up was a time that we would call in the United States, the "War with Afghanistan." There was this period where your country was in deep strife. The Taliban was gone, but that doesn’t mean your country was experiencing peace in the same way that we might see peace here in the United States.

Samman Akbarzada [13:19]
When I was younger, I didn’t really notice that reality, in a way, because, as I mentioned, I was consumed by the Disney Channel and by Harry Potter and movies. But later in life, things started to get real. Especially after 2010, the situation in Kabul started worsening, and you could see the increase in attacks. I would leave every morning saying goodbye to my mother, never knowing if I would make it home again, in one piece. You could see that in her eyes, in her fearful eyes. Several times in my school, we received news that the Taliban was inside the school, and at any moment, anything could happen. So, we would just hold each other's hands, me and my friend, and there’s nothing really you can do but pray. Sometimes, I would get the news about Al Shuhada, a girls' high school that was bombed in May 2020, and over 60 girls lost their lives. I have a poem for them dedicated in the book. I could have been one of them if that was my school. Afghanistan is... I don’t know. It’s like a miracle of its own. One of the questions that I have is, girls like me don’t make it out. It’s a paradox to be here, but at the same time be there, because you know what it was like to be there, and you never really leave that place. Even if you’ve left the war, the war never leaves you. It’s quite an experience, but at the same time, it has shaped who I am. I am who I am because of those experiences. And to live life in Afghanistan has taught me that at the end of the day, when I was packing my bag, I was looking for memories to put in my bag. I wasn’t looking for things. I wanted my mother to get out safely, my siblings, my family. And it teaches you about love in a way. You know, it’s like through the ruins of grief and war, you find that, oh, actually, home is these people that I love, and I just want them to be safe. It’s a kind of treasure that I guess you can only find through having experiences like that. Yeah.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [15:29]
That crisis really made it very clear what was important, what you cared about, what you were willing to protect, to take with you. And it was that love and those people. And you said something that I'm going to give language to, and you can tell me if this language feels accurate to you, but the experience that you had, I would label as having survivor's grief or survivor's guilt, right? It’s having survivor’s guilt—you were able to get out, and you know that other people did not. And so, the way you said it was so profound: “I was able to get out of Afghanistan, but it still lives inside me.”

Samman Akbarzada [16:09]
Yeah, you’ve put it perfectly, and that’s why whatever I do is to be helpful in a way, because I’m at the same time dealing with that grief. It’s such a privilege to be here and to have the opportunities that I have. I teach girls back home online, and I know that there are so many deserving girls there that don’t have the same opportunities. So, it’s quite an experience. I don’t want to be in a state of conflict. I want to be kind to myself. So, I am using resources and things like that, but at the same time, I do have the survival skill. And it is true that they didn’t make it out of that country. They are still stuck there, and I am out. It’s, I think, a huge responsibility now to be out, and I’m learning how to cope with it. It’s a journey.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [17:00]
Yeah, I’m just sitting with the words that you just... you know, “It’s a responsibility to be out.” And as I’m sitting with this, I’m feeling it on my back, between my shoulders, this weight. Where is it that you feel that?

Samman Akbarzada [17:09]
Definitely my heart.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [17:12]
So, there is a piece of you that is still back in Afghanistan. You’re thinking about the girls. You are doing what you can to support them while also supporting yourself. You were able to get your mother out. I would like you to tell us a little about your mother because one of the things I love about A Glimmer in the Dark is that you give us access to her voice because you share some of her poetry in this book.

Samman Akbarzada [17:46]
I love that you asked about my mother. She was, and will always be, my greatest inspiration. The first poem that I wrote, I was inspired by her. So, she was a poet, and growing up, she’s been my idol—her kindness, her selflessness, her way of loving everybody. In Rwanda, unfortunately, I got the horrible news that she was diagnosed with cancer, and that is exactly the moment I knew what it feels like to lose your home. When I was looking for visas to get her to another country to do her treatment because Rwanda could not help, but unfortunately, I lost her just after three months of our arrival in the United States. It was a week after my poetry book was published.

 When we were having our moments in the last days of her life, I brought the book to her and I said, “Mother, it’s published.” Even though she was very ill, she held it and said, “I am celebrating with you.” She said, “Congratulations.” My favorite thing about that book and what makes A Glimmer in the Dark so special is the fact that it’s a collective art that we created together, and she will live through those poems, through the poems that she has written that I have. I want to publish them in the future too, when it’s the right time and when I’m ready. I want her legacy to live through me. You know, after losing my mother and my country in just a span of what—one and a half years? She was my partner in crime, my best friend, and everything. I started questioning, “What in the world? How am I going to survive this?” I’m just... I feel so young, and I don’t know how to do this. Now, I’m a caretaker for two of my younger siblings, and my dad is not here, and I’m in this new country. I started looking for avenues to be helpful, and that is when I started working as a teacher and executive director for this nonprofit. The day that I listened to my students’ voices thanking me and laughing about the discussion we were having in class, I put my hand on my heart and thought, “This would make my mother proud. She raised a fighter.” Because on her last days, what she told me was, “Keep writing, do not give up.” She had this beautiful smile until the end. Through her loss, I learned how to love and how I want to be remembered and how I want to live my life. The quality of our life isn’t measured by how long we live, but by how we live it. And I truly learned that lesson from her—not only how to live, but how to leave. So, I am holding on to her beautiful smile, her hope, her resistance, and resilience to not succumb to sadness despite what happens. I had the best mother in the world, and I’m so grateful for that.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [20:37]
I am so grateful for that as well, and I was welling up a little as you were talking about your experience. My heart is deeply touched by your story and by the fact that I get to read her words and get to know her as well. And, you know, having experienced you, seeing you on a stage, talking with you now, seeing the work that you do—which we’re going to talk about in a moment—I see how fierce you are. I see this incredible woman that you are now and that you are becoming, right? And that you will continue to become as you continue to grow. 

And, you know, I have my silver hair, and one day, I wish you a time when you also have it, because there will be so many incredible things that you will have done by that point in your life. And I do see that. I can imagine that as a wonderful reflection of your mother, and what a gift back to her. And you said something that’s important, and I think I really want people to hear this, and this is something that I’ve had to learn in my life as a person who has gone through adversity—which is very different from the adversity that you’ve gone through—but there is something important and powerful about helping others. Right?

 So, yes, we must feel our feelings. We need to experience all of that. That is important, especially if you have deep grief or trauma or anything like that. But, you know, the Dalai Lama, who is a Buddhist monk—and I don’t know if you know who he is, but the Dalai Lama talks about how one of the best ways to deal with your own suffering is to imagine the suffering of others and to do something about it. And I see you as a person who is doing that, not just through your writing, which I’m going to give you a chance to read a poem in just a moment so people can hear your beautiful and powerful voice, but you also have worked with Cville Tulips, which is a nonprofit that works with refugees. And the past couple of weeks, you’ve been speaking out on behalf of refugees in Virginia and refugees in our community. Would you like to talk a little bit about that and then read the poem that you recently wrote?

Samman Akbarzada [22:55]
Yeah, thank you for that question. In the beginning, I said I have the mind of an advocate. It’s like an entire personality, identity—I do not know how to be any other way. This should be the norm, to care, to feel for others. I think that is what makes us human, what that does to me. I’m glad you mentioned the word helping. I know you get this. It’s actually doing more for us than we are ever able to do for others. It brings so much fulfillment and purpose into my life. I was lost without these girls. I was lost without the community engagement programs that we have through Cville Tulips, because the helplessness gets too big. It can devour you. It can consume you. If you look around the world right now, especially with all the cruelty happening, if I just sit here and do nothing, I cannot even imagine how horrible that might be. So, for me, to be able to do the work, I need to only do the work, and that work does so much for me in return for my peace of mind. I want to point out that I’m learning so much from the incredible and inspiring people that I get to know through these programs, and it’s always, always doing more for me than I am ever able to give back to the community. So, I’m truly grateful and privileged to have an opportunity to do something.

So, I would like to read the poem I wrote. This, in the light of the recent events, is to talk about our shared humanity in a way and where it is right now, because sometimes I fail to see it. The poem’s title is:

Do you like what you see?

I wish we were like animals,
 More like animals and a little less human.
 The fox that stays in her loving memory,
 The penguin rummaging for the prettier stone for her prettiest love I envy,
 The dead swans.
 Human, where is your heart?
 The floating sea otters clasped,
 The sauntering seahorses tacked.
 Human, where is your cold hand?
 Human, do you not touch?
 The blue bird bobbed a grain.
 The red one built them a nest.
 The squirrels waited, the tortoise took turns.
 Human, what’s your soul to plastic ratio?
 It’s you now, not the sun that scorches.
 Human, I forget the sound of your voice.
 Is it a luxury or a torture?
 The wolves howled, and no one was left behind.
 Human, all this language, but still, human.
 Why aren’t you answering?

Lisa Cooper Ellison [25:48]
I’m sitting with this poem, the beautiful imagery of the animals that you describe in your poem, and these questions, you know, human. Where is your hand? You know, what is your voice like? Could you read the last few lines again? I want to savor them.

Samman Akbarzada [26:05]
Of course.

Human, I forget the sound of your voice.
Is it a luxury or a torture?
The wolves howled, and no one was left behind.
Human, all this language, but still, human.
Why aren’t you answering?

Lisa Cooper Ellison [26:22]
Yeah, that is so powerful. And just thinking about how wolves live in packs, and how, you know, yes, if one wolf howls, everyone comes running, right? That’s... and yet, what are we doing?

Samman Akbarzada [26:37]
Yes, I think it’s just... sometimes it does leave me speechless. So, then I go back to nature and find humanity in nature and the way animals live, and the way they make sure no one is left behind, and the way they love and the way they show empathy. Humans learned it through evolution—the neural pathways—but I think actually, animals have had it long before humans learned how to be empathetic. If only we could learn a little bit from them, because of the recent events, and I’m sure it’s been troubling for all, especially for underserved and minority communities who are suffering at no cost of their own. When such executive orders are given, we kind of get lost in the statistics. So, I’m asking for, like, justify your humanity to me through this poem. Yeah.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [27:33]
 What is the howl you are hearing, and how can you answer that call?

Samman Akbarzada [27:40]
I am seeking that howl through the people that I’m lucky enough to be inspired by and work with in Cville Tulips. It’s the leaders that I admire, it’s my mentor that I admire, and at CFF, it’s my colleagues that I admire. We are, at this moment, holding each other’s hand and howling to make sure no one is left behind. We did howl when we went recently to DC, to Capitol Hill, to advocate for the immigrant communities. And I guess the howl must continue to get louder and louder. Being silent or doing nothing, I think, at this time, becomes, in a way, to be complicit with the horrible things happening. So, the howl is a reminder that I am here, that I know you are here too, and I’ll do anything to make sure no one is left behind.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [28:35]
If people are listening, and I’m going to put the news articles that you sent to me about your work and how you were in Washington, DC, and how you are advocating for immigrants, if people wanted to do one thing that was listening to that howl and being of service and being of help, can you think of one thing that listeners could do that would be of service?

Samman Akbarzada [29:01]
That is such a profound question, and something that I truly, recently, have come to terms with. What I’ve learned is, honestly, community work. So, for anybody listening, if you want to do good, it’s so much easier, honestly, you can find any local community engagement program, advocating for any underserved community, and go and just get involved. There are so many volunteering opportunities you can give. It doesn’t have to be a big thing, because I guess with all the news and the advancement of technology, we can really get overwhelmed, and compassion collapse happens. I’m like, “Oh, what good am I going to do?” So I’m just going to sit here and do nothing. But for you to rather focus on your own community and find avenues where you can be useful. Go do that. There are city councils holding meetings, but unfortunately, the people from underserved communities cannot even get there to have a voice. Why? Because they don’t have transportation. They don’t have childcare. So, if you think about it, you can help those people have a voice through giving transportation, or providing childcare. Just look around your community. Get to know your neighbors—who is silently suffering in their home? Because when I was here in the United States, I was alone, but I was so lucky and blessed to find this incredible neighbor, Marilyn, who is now, as she calls herself, my unofficial grandmother. We became so close in such a short amount of time. Why? Because she wanted to know my story. She didn’t judge me because of my differences, but she sought to find what we shared, and that was our shared humanity. She helped me so much. She gave me rides at a time when I was overwhelmed with taking care of my younger siblings. I had someone to rely on emotionally, that is so important. Like, look around your neighborhood. Who is really struggling at this time? Who is being impacted the most? So I would highly encourage people to get involved in their communities, because that’s where the root cause can change. Getting involved in your community is how, 100%, things start to change. Absolutely.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [31:20]
And it doesn’t have to be something really complex. And you said a couple of things I really want to reiterate: Listen to other people, learn their stories, be with their stories, understand their stories, and just do one thing, right? Imagine if every single person did one thing—the ripple effect that would have and the change that that would create in our world. So find that in your community, figure out what that is, and be sure to do that, because that is how we care for one another, and that is how we connect with our humanity. And I can say this from experience, from classes I’ve taught where I have actually said, I will teach you writing and you have to go out and do things in your community. I did this at the beginning of the pandemic, and it is what helps you feel like you can reconnect with your power, and you reconnect with your sense of connection, like you’re not alone when you are doing these things, and you have great plans for yourself. At one point, you are going to be a trauma-informed counselor, and now you are going to law school. You’re pre-law right now, and I’m just going to invite you, and I think you’re just going to do it no matter what. You can even be a trauma-informed lawyer, right? Someone who understands how trauma works and brings that energy to the work that you do. How is writing going to play a role in what you see as your plan for the future?

Samman Akbarzada [32:51]
Thank you so much. I like that, "trauma-informed lawyer." I love that. I’m going to use that from now on. Writing is so special because sometimes it's only serving me on a personal level, when I need some alone time, a sanctuary. I turn off the lights, have my tea, and just write my feelings out. 

But at the same time, it also serves as this shared collective experience. So, I will continue to write poems that advocate for the girls back in Afghanistan and for all the injustice that I’ve seen here recently. I guess the best way for me to describe what that would do is... I watched this movie, The Trial of the Chicago 7, for one of my classes, and there’s this moment when Mr. Seale is brought in with his hand completely cuffed and his mouth wrapped. I had to pause it, because I’m so old and I’ve experienced so many things. But at the same time, sometimes I get so overwhelmed that I don’t know how to deal with watching a scene of injustice. It’s just... it never gets easy. In a way, I’m grateful. I don’t want to become numb. But at the same time, sometimes, like, what do I do? Such horrible things have happened in history, and to think that they’re still happening now. So, I paused it, and I was like, "What do I do? What do I do? I need to do something." And I wrote a poem about that experience. So, it’s like an anthem for people who have been silenced. Your justice depends on the hands of someone who wants to silence you. And what do you do at that moment? So, I become that character, that person, and write from their point of view. In a way, it serves as a coping mechanism for me to get through that experience. So, writing will continue to do that for me. Whenever I am encountering such injustice, on a personal level or on a collective level, I want my writing to bear witness to what’s happening and be a voice.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [34:44]
I love that. And as a writer who is using this... and I just want to point out what I love is that you were deeply affected by something. It felt overwhelming. You immediately said, "Let me write a poem." And what I love about poetry is that it doesn’t have to be long. And so, the few words can serve as this wonderful container for an experience that allows you to reconnect with your power, to reconnect with yourself. And what you might do with this as you’ve gone on your writing journey, what is the best piece of writing advice that you’ve received?

Samman Akbarzada [35:20]
That’s a great question. There are several, but I want to share one of them. Ever since I left Afghanistan, you know, I always say that grief became a hand I got to hold, and I’m walking with grief hand in hand. And what you write at that time isn’t the best thing in the world. And I guess you become obsessed with this pain, and you write about it over and over and over again, in a way to get it out of your system. Yes, I had this fear that I’m writing the same thing, but in a different form. What if for the rest of my life, I’m always going to sound like a broken record? 

I asked this from Mona Castro, an incredible professor at UVA, in one of my classes, and she had tears in her eyes. She said, “I know what you’re talking about.” And she hugged me and said, “This is your story. Own it. If you’re going to sound like that over and over again, so what? Sound like it. Do not stop yourself because you’re afraid you’re sounding the same. Don’t limit yourself. It’s your story. No one can say it, but you.” I go back to her words often when I get those fears that, "What if nobody gets it? What if I am so unrelatable?" And to hear her voice in my head, "This is YOUR story, own it," it’s a beautiful experience.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [36:40]
I love that advice, and I’m going to put it on my wall. And I want everyone who’s listening to rewind a little bit. Like, go back a couple of steps. I’m going to make sure that this is bookmarked in our show notes, so that people can listen to it several times, because that is such profound advice. Own who you are. Own your story and own what your voice sounds like. I love it. So, you are doing so many things in the world. You assist with the care of your siblings. You are at UVA, going to school with all your classes. You’re also doing this advocacy work out in the world. How are you taking care of yourself and nurturing your resilience as you do this?

Samman Akbarzada [37:25]
That’s such an important question. I’m a person who gets really happy by doing little things. So, it doesn’t take a lot to make myself get in the right mood. I can go on a hike and just sit there and breathe, and I’m good for the day, or I make myself a cup of herbal tea. I drink it, I listen to classical music, and writing, honestly, journaling is a huge deal. Sometimes I’m postponing my assignments just so I can write prose and poetry, because it’s so healing and nurturing. So, I do that for myself and for the grief that I feel about what’s happening around me. And when I sometimes feel like, "Why can’t I do something? Why is this happening? Like, why can’t I do something?" Because we are so limited in our human abilities, what helps me is to actually do something about it. So, the community work that I do is helping me, in a way, to cope with all of that uncomfortable feeling of helplessness. So, in a way, I have personal resources: art. I’m learning how to play the guitar. It’s silly, I don’t know how to play it, but I just sit there with myself and play. Or I find a poem that is so beautiful that I feel like it starts to read me back. So I have these resources that I go to.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [38:43]
I love that. That’s such a beautiful answer. Well, it has been an absolute delight to spend time with you today. So, if people want to know more about you, if they want to buy a copy of A Glimmer in the Dark or Life is a Movie, what are the best ways for people to connect with you?

Samman Akbarzada [39:04]
Thank you so much. It’s available on all the platforms, Amazon included. If that works for you, you can find me on Instagram, although I’m not using it, but I will log in from time to time to see if I have any messages. Send me a message, I would love to talk. Or email. I guess I’m on LinkedIn too. Yeah, I’m just always open to talk with people.

Lisa Cooper Ellison [39:25]
Well, I will make sure that all those links are in the show notes so that people can connect with you. And I’ll also let people know if you, you know, yes, order things through your local bookstore. That is one of the best ways. And if you feel like that’s not an option, bookshop.org is another way, because they support local bookstores, and something else you can do is order it through your library.

Samman Akbarzada [39:47]
Thank you so much. This has been such an incredible conversation. I knew it from the beginning when I saw you at the reading that we had for Women’s Initiative. I was like, I cannot wait to talk to her. She’s such an incredible person. This has been so healing, so comforting to look back and reflect and to have you listen and understand where I’m coming from and where these writings are coming from. It’s a beautiful experience. So, thank you. Bye.