Option A, the path I believed was mine, was now obliterated.

As much as I wanted to move forward and back into the light, reminders of that day and darkness were inescapable for the next several years. Salacious Sunday paper headlines and evening news stories about his case were a regular occurrence. Sometimes journalists would take pity and leave my name out of print. Other times they would not. My hometown community whispered. My faith community judged. Friends walked away. All while sordid details of the act and the dangers that my unborn child and I faced because of it were revealed. His trial and sentencing to twenty-two years to life brought even more press coverage and chatter.

But in that time of darkness, my beautiful child was born. Even though it was dark, my desire to move forward turned into a need to move forward. The need begat a will to move forward. And I began to see that I had options for my life, and my daughter’s life, other than those that were crushed. I would find Option B, and it would be good.

Finding it was a process that was not easy. It required me to step out of complacency and into action. As I navigated the divorce process, I had to use my voice in a new and assertive way, something that was not my normal. Being strapped with all of the financial obligation in the divorce and fighting finance companies over debts he incurred tested my negotiation skills.

I faced and dealt with the overwhelming emotional fallout of fear, loss of trust, anxiety, and betrayal. I had to hold tight to the people that were helping me move forward and supporting me even if they didn’t agree with me. I also had to set boundaries and even let go of some relationships that kept me stuck. For the first time, I was truly choosing to happen to life, rather than letting life happen to me. I was choosing resiliency.

Even though it was dark, my desire to move forward turned into a need to move forward.
The need begat a will to move forward. Moving forward required my action, even when I wasn’t sure I could do it.

There were moments when I had to simply rely on a will-do attitude, rather than a can-do attitude. Self-doubt and defensiveness challenged me. At times, I wanted to sink back under what felt like the weight of the world. But as I took accountability and responsibility for shaping my future, and that of my daughter, I began to see every place where I had choice in what life would become. I decided that my life would be a life of victory, not of being a victim of his actions and the judgment and darkness they brought.

In the years since, I have found a healthy and loving relationship with my husband of twenty-five years. I have raised three daughters to be strong, independent women. I returned to college at age thirty-five and earned my college degree on the same day that my oldest daughter earned hers. I have traveled the world. My experiences have helped me to empower other women to move forward.

I decided that my life would be a life of victory, not of being a victim of his actions and the judgment and darkness they brought.

Along the journey, resiliency muscles have certainly been tested. The moment that changed everything has lasting impact. Emotions, questions, anger, confusion, and hurt didn’t just disappear when I chose something different for our lives. But as issues arise, I feel, address, and work through them. I learn from them.

With each challenge to resiliency, resiliency is strengthened.

I am often asked whether I would change anything about what happened in my life. My answer to that question is no. Regardless of how it happened, without losing Option A, I would not be who or where I am today. I am living Option B. And it is good. I did not just move forward to exist. I bounced forward and am living.

So I’d wake up in the mornings, sweep the house, wash the dishes, and cook breakfast. Sometimes I wouldn’t even have time to eat it. I’d just cook it, put it on the table, and run to school.

Through all this I managed to pass my primary school national and was admitted to the Kenya High School, one of the best schools in Kenya. I was a smart student but poverty did not allow me to stay in school. I was constantly sent home for school fees. This had a great toll on performance and made me almost give up my education. It was at this point that I met Akili Dada, a nonprofit that supports girls’ education. They granted me a four-year scholarship. The scholarship changed my life and gave me a new focus in life. This organization not only focused on educating me, but also building me as a person. For the first time I felt empowered to focus on my schooling and appreciate the person I was. Akili Dada provided me with mentors and training in leadership. It taught me to believe in myself as a woman. I went from the bottom of the class to being a top student, and I finished high school with an A- average.

For the first time I felt empowered to focus on my schooling and appreciate the person I was.

I’m now headed toward the career of my dreams. In 2015, I got a MasterCard scholarship to study at Ashesi University in Ghana. Currently, I am a sophomore studying Management Information Systems, a course that combines business administration and computer science. I hope to work toward a PhD on an international course that will expose me to the global market. Ultimately I’d like to work for the United Nations.

Apart from being a student I am also a fellow for the Melton Foundation, a global organisation that brings together youth from different parts of the world to discuss issues such as equality, sustainability, and diversity. Through this organisation I have gotten a chance to travel to places like Germany and talk about issues that affect the entire world.

I believe that to succeed, we need powerful role models.

I didn’t have any when I was growing up in Nandi. The village had no lawyers or doctors. To fill the gap, I created a youth empowerment program called Life Lifters, that hopes to empower the youth in my area to be innovative, create change, and see value in education. I bring inspiring and successful individuals from places like Nairobi and encourage them to share their stories with young minds in Nandi. I also tell my own story to inspire them.

I am the first generation in my village to study abroad and my hope is that my successes will inspire the youth in my area to focus on education and create wealth for themselves. I also plan to scale up Life Lifters to ensure that these young people have access to different resources such as computers, mentors, and entrepreneurship trainers, My hope is that this will help reduce youth poverty.

My volunteer experience at a local hospital in 2014 taught me a lot and even though I am far from home now the experience I had there is still with me. When I first went to the hospital I was dismayed to see so many teenage girls pregnant and this was and is still an inspiration behind my project Life Lifters. Through Life Lifters we mentor girls and educate them on the importance of staying in school. So far I have been able to reach to over two hundred females. We share stories and I use myself as an example to show them that anything is possible. The fact that I do not have a child at my age is an inspiration to them and even those who have a child, as we encourage them to be innovative and start small businesses.

My greatest joy is in talking to people and getting to know them.

I feel empowered by hearing other people’s stories, and by sharing my own.
I fervently believe in the power of education for women and girls. If women understand their rights and work for them, then we can grow a society where the same value is placed on all genders. It shouldn’t matter whether you’re a boy or a girl—you are a human being.

I love the fact that right now I know who I am and at least can help other people. I particularly pass my regards to Akili Dada for teaching me how to be a strong woman and most importantly to be an agent of change. The values they instilled in me have carried me to a global level and my hope is that in the end I will be a resource to women, and the world in general.
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Born and raised in Kenya, Cynthia Muhonja became an advocate for women’s equality through Akili Dada’s scholarship and leadership program. Akili Dada is a leadership incubator cultivating transformative leadership among young African women, and is a grantee partner of Global Fund for Women. Today, Cynthia is a university student and hopes to one day work for the United Nations.

Starting over was incredibly difficult. I didn’t know a single person here. I didn’t have a job or money. And I was plagued by mental issues as a result of the war and my father’s disappearance.

Little by little, I worked my way up. I worked in a restaurant. I was an au pair. I didn’t have a place of my own, but I met someone who invited me to stay in their home. All it takes is one person to change your life. From there, I kept making new friends. Over the course of a year, I slept on nine different couches.

It’s unbelievable that I survived that first year.

In the midst of my nomadic life, I found time to apply to college. I was offered a full scholarship to Bard College in upstate New York. Going to school was an adjustment. I had been pursuing my undergrad degree in Syria, but that was a completely different system.

I found my voice in school. I struggled with depression and grief. But I realized the only way to heal was to become a storyteller. I wanted to tell my family’s story. I wanted to tell my own story. I wanted to help people understand the refugee crisis. And I wanted to put a human face on it.

Today, I try to give a voice to the voiceless.

I’ve left Syria, but I’m not free. The fight starts when you flee. But it doesn’t have an end. I have fought for my survival because of my upbringing. I grew up in a family that was very appreciative, supportive, and determined.

Today, I try to give a voice to the voiceless. As long as I’m in America, I’m going to spread the word about the war in Syria. I want to educate people so they understand what’s going on. I am a consultant with organizations that work on refugee projects. I design and plan conferences to explain the refugee crisis and tell people how they can help.

There’s a price to pay for everything—especially for what you believe in.

My father was detained because he spoke out against the regime. None of us have heard from him to this day. I haven’t grieved yet, because I’m not even sure if he’s dead or alive. I have just coped with the reality. I know that he would have wanted me to continue speaking out. My family believes in freedom, so we are willing to die for it.
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Sana Mustafa is the founder and director of Sana Mustafa Consulting LLC, where she consults on designing engagement and bridging projects on the refugee crisis.
Mustafa is an active public speaker on the refugee plight, as she herself has been a refugee in the U.S. since 2013.
Image Credit: Norman Jean Roy

I began to hyperventilate, screaming and going into shock. I convinced myself I couldn’t carry on without Will. It wasn’t possible.

He was my life, my world, my happiness, my everything.

As the shock begins to wear off, the intense, complicated grieving begins. It’s unbearable to lose a spouse to suicide. The guilt, denial, and heartbreak are so painful. The emotions take every ounce of energy. You try to prepare and brace yourself for the next tidal wave.

I want you to know that I survived, that I’m a warrior.

Where am I today? Why am I telling you my story? I want you to know that I survived, that I’m a warrior.

As I began to process the loss of Will, I knew there were only two choices for me: Drop into a deep depression and give up, or focus on our memories and our deep love for one another, get into therapy, and, most importantly, make a difference by inspiring, encouraging, and helping others.

I chose the latter. I immediately got help and began to train for the sixteen-mile Overnight Walk for Suicide Prevention in New York City. I had four months to train. Getting into the best shape of my life at fifty became my passion, my goal. And guess what…I did it! As I walked through New York City for almost the entire night, I reflected on our beautiful memories and shared photos with all of my friends and family on Facebook. It was an amazing, healing experience!

I promise you, it does get better.

Today I’m not totally healed, but I have accepted Will’s death. I now know and trust that I CAN carry on. I try to enjoy life at its fullest and help others by inspiring and sharing my story. Grieving is hard work, exhausting at times. It’s the most difficult loss to experience. I choose to talk about it. I’m learning to enjoy the simple things in life; family and friends are most important. Everything else is relative. I only hope that sharing my story helps to save lives from suicide and those struggling with grief.

I promise you, it does get better. It takes time, determination, and the effort to reinvent yourself. You will change; it’s inevitable. You will transform into something beautiful and amazing. Not now, not tomorrow, and maybe not even months from now. But one day you will accept the loss. As for your memories, well, those are yours always and forever. I’m a survivor, a warrior.

On the outside, I looked like everyone else, but inside I was a mess of anxiety.

It was a strange experience coming home; I was trying to remain calm and cool during the transition. On the outside, I looked like everyone else, but inside I was a mess of anxiety. The first day I stepped off prison grounds, my wife and I went to Denny’s—I remember I sat in the restaurant surrounded by all these people, staring at the knife and fork, feeling so overwhelmed.

Every day I was out, I worked hard to push past the feelings of anxiety and fear that threatened to overwhelm me. My wife and I started an antique business, I went back to college, and we began to rebuild our lives. Things were going well. But living with a criminal record is like wearing a scarlet letter. You can never truly escape from it—any small slip up could cost me my freedom for the rest of my life.

One day, my wife and I were driving past Folsom State Prison. I wanted to have a look at the prison museum, as a way to process the past. We drove up to the entrance and asked the officer, “Hey, can we take our picture here?” He said, “Sure, no problem,” so we did and then we went on our way.

I was committing a crime that could send me back to prison for life.

I didn’t think anything of it; I didn’t think I was breaking any rules. The museum was behind the walls of the prison so we thought we were safe, but it turns out that by just being on the grounds without approval from the warden, I was violating my parole. I was committing a crime that could send me back to prison for life.
My parole officer called me and I told him where we had been. He got very silent and said, “Why did you go there? You’re not allowed to be there.” When he did that, I knew he was going to arrest me.

My wife, Brenda, and I had made a new life for ourselves, positive things were happening, and suddenly it was all being snatched away.

My heart sank.

Here I was after twenty-eight years coming back into the world, trying my best, and there are no clear rules about what I am allowed to do and not allowed to do. My wife, Brenda, and I had made a new life for ourselves, positive things were happening, and suddenly it was all being snatched away. I had left prison, we had succeeded, and here I was going back. At that moment, I felt so empty; I felt like a failure.

I was put in jail without legal representation or access to a public defender. While I sat there waiting for my sentence, Brenda never gave up on me or our future. She contacted Root & Rebound, a reentry legal resource center that gives education and support to people who are currently or formerly incarcerated, along with their friends, loved ones, and advocates, as they navigate the reentry process.

Their attorneys jumped on the phone, calling everyone from the head of parole to the district attorney’s office, to tell my story and advocate for my release. They shared my accomplishments since leaving prison—making dean’s list in college, starting a business, working with youth impacted by domestic violence. They believed in me and supported us in our most vulnerable and darkest moments. With their help, the charges were dropped and I walked free from jail after a week, instead of serving another life sentence for a simple mistake.

Root & Rebound has empowered my reentry experience by letting me know that I’m not alone, that there are people who care about me. Just that knowledge gives me a sense of hope.

Now I am going to school full-time, pursuing a degree in agriculture.

I believe that people are given a second chance—and if they want it, they can create a different life for themselves. You don’t always have to be equal to the worst mistake you’ve ever made. You can move on from that.
There are redemption stories in all of us. There’s certainly one in me.
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Joel and Brenda have been married for 5 years and live in rural California, where Joel is currently pursuing his Bachelor’s in Agriculture and they own a small business selling antiques. Joel is also an anti-violence advocate who serves as an ambassador for Root & Rebound and speaks to audiences across California about how the domestic abuse in his childhood home led him down a dangerous path of self-destruction.

Now I know so much about midwifery and nursing. My community turns to me when anyone is feeling sick. It gives me so much joy to use my medical skills and help people feel well again.

I’m very happy: I’m married and pregnant, and I love my work. Nonetheless, I sometimes struggle with my feelings about my past. But I try to draw on those emotions to motivate me, because I want to carry on living the best way I can.

When I first learned about women’s rights through ACOTCHI, it changed my life. It was like being woken up. I didn’t know anything about women’s rights before. Now I teach other women about them.

In Guatemala, where I’m from, many women experience domestic violence. It’s often seen as normal.

I used to think it was normal, too, when I was abused and humiliated as a child.

Now I know that it’s not OK, and I’m passionate about spreading the word. In my own life, I won’t even accept yelling from my husband―let alone physical abuse.
Midwives can play a huge role in ending domestic abuse. We’re out in rural communities talking to families. If a woman in my community is being abused, I encourage her to stand up for herself and report it.

I also talk to abusive husbands about women’s rights. I’ve seen men change their behavior, little by little.

And I’ve heard the same from other midwives. They’ve seen their communities change for the better.

I want more people to understand that women don’t have to be abused, and that women and men are equal. We have the same capabilities. We are just as valuable. There’s so much machismo in Guatemala. People believe that only men are capable, but women are capable too. I want to live in a world where “women’s rights” are not just words, but a reality.
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Gloria Marina Icu Puluc is a member of Asociación Civil de Comadronas Tradicionales de Chimaltenango (ACOTCHI) in Guatemala. A grantee partner of Global Fund for Women, ACOTCHI is a group of midwives that offers health and professional training programs to local women as a means to teach them about their rights. Today, Gloria uses her nursing and midwifery skills to provide health services and raise awareness about women’s rights in her community.