Assadi with her family, including mom Homa and dad Mohammad Ali, after Metro’s graduation ceremony. A full house in Fair Haven School’s auditorium. As Metropolitan Business Academy valedictorian Razia Assadi looked out over a full auditorium while giving her graduation speech Tuesday, she thought of the girls in her home country of Afghanistan who haven’t been afforded the same opportunities as her. “Do you know that there are places in this world where a girl can have perfect grades, limitless ambition, and dreams larger than herself, yet still be denied the opportunity to pursue them?” Assadi asked her peers and their families at the start of her speech. “For millions of girls, it is not a story. It is not a mere headline, nor is it a distant issue. It is their reality.” “Tonight, however,” she continued, “I stand before you in a very different reality.” Assadi came to the United States from Afghanistan with her family in 2015, when she was 8 years old, during a period of increased violence from the Taliban. On Tuesday, she graduated from Metropolitan Business Academy alongside her peers at a ceremony held in the auditorium of Fair Haven School. Assadi’s mother, Homa Assadi, became involved in 2016 with local food nonprofit CitySeed’s Sanctuary Kitchen program, which provides culinary training for immigrants and refugees. She was connected through Integrated Refugee Immigrant Services (IRIS) volunteer Donna Golden. Homa began working at Sanctuary Kitchen in 2018 and now serves as a supervisor. “I’m so happy,” Homa said about her daughter’s graduation on Tuesday. “I’m so proud of her.” Both of them, she said, have worked hard for this moment. Razia Assadi, who is of the Hazara ethnic group, said that she is the product of sacrifice. When people hear “Afghanistan,” she said during her speech, they often think of conflict. “I think of my grandmother waking before sunrise to prepare fresh naan,” she said. “I think of neighbors carrying fresh food to one another without being asked.” She thinks about resilience. She thinks of community. And, she said, she thinks of girls. “Girls with dreams so vivid they can describe them in perfect detail,” she said. “Girls who imagine futures for themselves and work tirelessly toward them.” Assadi said the fact that so many girls haven’t had the same opportunities and resources that she had has shaped not only her approach to education, but also to responsibility. “I carry it with me every time I enter a classroom,” she said. “Every time I complete an assignment. Every question I ask.” At one point during her speech, Assadi asked her parents to stand in the crowd, prompting cheers from attendees and her fellow graduates. She spoke of her parents’ sacrifices and the challenge of navigating an unfamiliar country to provide their children with opportunities. “Mom. Dad,” she said, “You may look at your lives and focus on what you left behind. I look at your lives and see what you built.” Homa and Assadi’s little brother in the crowd during her speech. In addition to her family, Assadi was joined for her graduation by now-retired ESL teacher Mary Lou DiPaola, who had taught Assadi when she arrived at Truman School from Afghanistan in second grade. “She was so sweet and adorable and kind and nervous,” DiPaola recalled. She also taught Assadi’s younger sister, and when the kids moved to Nathan Hale School after a few years, DiPaola said she kept in touch with the family. “She’s worked so hard,” she said about Assadi, “and she deserves it.” CitySeed Executive Director and Fair Haven Alder Sarah Miller also attended Assadi’s graduation on Tuesday. “Razia’s story is a reminder that brilliance is all around us and our collective responsibility is to provide the spaces where it can take root and take flight,” she said. “Her path and the paths of her parents and siblings exemplifies what New Haven and Connecticut and our country are all about.” After receiving her diploma, Assadi told the Independent, “I would say I’m proud of myself because I have my family, who care deeply about me.” She is also grateful for her teachers. Assadi remembered being unsure what to do or what the rules were in the classroom on the first day of school, when she first came to the United States. She had more free time and flexibility than she had had in her school in Afghanistan. Now, after finishing high school at the top of her class, she plans to attend Columbia University in New York in the fall. Assadi wants to study neuroscience and philosophy, largely because her brother has a neurological disability that prevents him from walking or talking. She said as a kid, she always wondered why that was the case. As the eldest child, she often carried him through their mountainous village in Afghanistan. Assadi and her family had visited New York recently and Assadi said she liked it. “It was so lively,” she said, “even at 3 a.m.!” See below for Razia Assadi’s full graduation speech. Razia’s full graduation speech Good evening everyone. Before I begin, I want to ask you a simple question. Do you know that there are places in this world where a girl can have perfect grades, limitless ambition, and dreams larger than herself, yet still be denied the opportunity to pursue them? Where a classroom becomes inaccessible. Where a desk sits empty. Where a future is decided before she is given the chance to decide it herself. Where a girl can dream of becoming a doctor, a scientist, a teacher, an engineer, and still never be given the opportunity to try. That place exists. For millions of girls, it is not a story. It is not a mere headline. Nor is it a distant issue. It is their reality. Tonight, however, I stand before you in a very different reality. Tonight, I stand before you as a graduate and the Valedictorian. Tonight, we celebrate Metro’s Class of 2026. Before anything else, I want to congratulate every graduate sitting before me. This moment represents years of effort, perseverance, growth, setbacks, and determination. We arrived here through different paths, yet we arrived together. I also want to thank our teachers, counselors, administrators, support staff, and everyone who helped us reach this stage. Your patience changed lives. Your guidance changed lives. Your belief changed lives. Thank you. To our parents and families, congratulations. Many of you sacrificed sleep, comfort, opportunities, certainty, and peace of mind so your children could pursue their dreams. Tonight belongs to you as much as it belongs to us. My name is Razia Assadi.. I am Hazara. I am from Afghanistan. And every part of who I am stands upon the sacrifices of those who came before me. When people hear Afghanistan, they often imagine conflict. I think of people. I think of my grandmother waking before sunrise to prepare fresh naan. I think of neighbors carrying food to one another without being asked. I think of mountains stretching across the horizon. I think of children racing through dirt roads until sunset. I think of evenings filled with conversation, laughter, and tea. I think of resilience. I think of community. I think of people who continue moving forward despite hardship. And I think about girls. Girls with ambitions. Girls with intelligence. Girls with dreams so vivid they can describe them in perfect detail. Girls who imagine futures for themselves and work tirelessly toward them. The hardest part is not that talent is absent. The hardest part is that talent exists everywhere. The potential exists. The ambition exists. The determination exists. However, the opportunity and resources do not. That reality shaped me long before I understood its significance. If shaped the way I approach education. It shaped the way I approach responsibility. It shaped the way I approach opportunity. I carry it with me every time I enter a classroom. Every time I complete an assignment. Every question I ask. Every time I plan for the future. Because I know there are girls my age who would give anything to sit where | sit today. Girls who dream of attending high school. Girls who dream of graduation. Girls who dream of college. Girls who dream of having choices. When I received my acceptance to Columbia University, where I will study Neuroscience and Philosophy with the goal of becoming a physician-scientist, I celebrated. Then I reflected. I thought about how many people made that moment possible. I thought about the opportunities I had been given. I thought about the responsibilities that come with them. Most importantly, I thought about my parents. Mohammad Ali and Homa Assadi. Mom and dad, can you please stand so I can appreciate you. The two people whose sacrifices built the foundation beneath every success I have ever achieved. People often talk about immigration through numbers, paperwork, and policies. I think about what was left behind. Parents. Siblings. Friends. Language. Traditions. Memories. The comfort of belonging somewhere without explanation. My parents left behind people they loved deeply. People they still miss. People they still worry about. People they still pray for. People they still call whenever they can. They arrived in a county where every system was unfamiliar. Every form needed translating. Every process needed learning. Every mistake carried consequences. Every success required persistence Yet they continued Because they believed their children deserved opportunities they never had. When I look at my mother, I see courage. When I look at my father, I see perseverance. I see two people who accepted uncertainty so their children could have possibility. I see two people who worked through exhaustion and disappointment without allowing either to define them. I see two people who taught me that gratitude is meaningless unless it becomes action. Mom. Dad. You may look at your lives and focus on what you left behind. I look at your lives and see what you built. You built a future. You built a family. You built opportunities that once seemed impossible. You built me. Today I stand before you as the proud daughter of two hardworking and selfess Hazara Afghans. I stand here carrying your sacrifices. Your values. Your resilience. Your hopes. I stand here as a young woman who has been given opportunities that many girls are still waiting for. That reality does not make me feel fortunate alone. It makes me feel responsible. Responsible for using every opportunity with purpose. Responsible for honoring every sacrifice that made those opportunities possible. Responsible for ensuring that the kindness, support, and education I received continue beyond me. For me, education has never been only about personal achievement. It has always been about service. It has always been about using knowledge to improve the lives of others. It has always been about honoring the opportunities I have been given by creating opportunities for someone else. Before I conclude, there are a few people I would like to thank. To the teachers who challenged me, encouraged me, and believed in me throughout my education, especially Mrs. DiPoala, who is here with us today, thank you. To my family members and family friends who traveled near and far to celebrate this moment, thank you. To my uncle and aunt, thank you for remaining faithful and honest to one another despite all the hardship and separation. To my grandparents back home in Afghanistan whom we call whenever we can. To my sister Fatima, thank you for keeping me grounded and reminding me that being the oldest does not always mean being right. To my brother Abdul, thank you for your kindness, your strength, and the example you set every day. To my little brother Ali, thank you for your laughter, your love, and the joy you bring to our family. And finally, to Metro’s Class of 2026: Today is a celebration. But it is also a reminder. Because once we leave this place, no one will hand us a clear path forward. There will be moments when you feel behind. Moments when you question your direction. Moments when the life you imagined does not unfold the way you expected. In those moments, remember this: You are not defined by how quickly you succeed. You are defined by how honestly you live. By the choices you make when no one is watching. By the way you treat people who cannot offer you anything in return. By the courage you have to change your mind, to start over, to admit when you are wrong, and to keep going anyway. There will be pressure to follow what looks impressive. To chase titles, recognition, and approval. But a meaningful life is not built on what looks good from the outside. It is built on what feels right when you are alone with your own thoughts. Pay attention to what gives you a sense of purpose. Pay attention to what makes you feel responsible for something larger than yourself. That is where your real work begins. And as you move forward, remember this as well: You will meet people who are struggling in ways you cannot see. People carrying burdens they never speak about. People who are one act of kindness away from believing in themselves again. Be that act of kindness. Not because it is expected But because it is powerful. Because it changes lives in ways you may never witness. And because it reminds you of your own humanity. We are leaving here with knowledge. But more importantly, we are leaving here with the ability to choose what kind of people we become. So choose to be thoughtful. Choose to be curious. Choose to be patient with yourself and with others. Choose to build something that matters. Not just for yourself, but for the people who will come after you. Congratulations, Metro Class of 2026. Thank you. Assadi with her mom and sister after arriving in the U.S. Credit: Donna Golden photo The post Valedictorian Honors Afghan Girls appeared first on New Haven Independent. ...read more read less