I grew up in a big house in the mountains of Afghanistan.

Being the eldest of six sisters and two brothers, from a young age I felt responsible for my siblings’ wellbeing.

My childhood was happy. My parents were a strong team and shared responsibilities between us. For years, we lived equally - but that changed when I was around 14 years old. I began to see that despite my parents' best efforts, their values were not congruent with the reality of the society I was growing up in.

The mountains always felt like home. Peaks that soared 5,000 metres were all around me - harsh winters and huge landscapes my 'normal'. It was a bit different from Australia! From a young age I loved adventure - but in Afghanistan, mountaineering was a boys’ club. Being a girl seemed more of an obstacle than the mountains themselves.

I had to fight for every opportunity. I became one of the first women in my mountaineering club, then became a journalist and radio presenter, using my voice to talk about women’s rights and issues that were not very safe to discuss. I learned that simply being a woman who speaks, climbs and pursues her ambitions can require courage but was worth it.

Becoming a refugee changed my life again. I spent time in India before eventually building a new life in Australia. Displacement taught me to look beyond the world I know - it taught me the value of curiosity, kindness and community.

In Australia, I lost my younger brother. The grief changed everything. I struggled with depression and, for a period, experienced homelessness. At my lowest point, the dream my brother and I had shared since I was 12 came back to me: Everest. I decided to climb it in his memory.

After years without serious training, I committed myself to the goal. I trained, worked, fundraised and kept going through moments when giving up would have been easier. On 21 May 2026, I stood on the summit of Mount Everest with my incredible Sherpa and became the first Afghan woman to reach the top of the world's highest mountain.

Everest was about more than climbing. I climbed for girls in Afghanistan who are told their dreams are too big, and for people struggling with their mental health in honour of my brother. I also climbed to remind myself that grief can become purpose, and that being a refugee does not have to mean living a limited life.