The world turned Malala Yousafzai into a symbol of hope, expecting her to single-handedly solve women’s empowerment issues. At first, this seemed plausible. However, the men who once tried to kill her have since become respected figures, holding press conferences and aligning with global leaders. Ironically, they gained influence through the same Western societies that once celebrated Malala as their champion.
Malala became the teenage messiah, a way for the world to outsource its conscience. Her story is not just about surviving an assassination attempt and becoming an icon, but also about how those in power maintain appearances while true progress stalls.
“I had choices that millions of young women had just lost,” writes Yousafzai in Finding My Way. At twenty-eight, she has published two memoirs. “To agonise over my place in the world seemed immaterial,” she asserts.
Her role as a teenage symbol has constrained her life and work. She acknowledges that her presence is often seen less as a person and more as a figurehead. “If I wanted to promote education and equality for girls and women in Pakistan, I had to be inoffensive in every way,” she admits, showing weariness toward the saintly image imposed on her.
What often goes unrecognized is that this symbolic virtue is exactly what elevated her to fame.
Malala’s transformation into a global icon reveals how symbolic figures can be used by powerful interests to mask ongoing societal failings in women’s rights.