I am the last-born. By the time I started primary school, my siblings were away at boarding school. There were not many children at home to play with, so I spent a lot of time inside.
Our storage room was also part of my dad’s library. I read there because the books were there and because reading felt ordinary. My dad helped me with homework every day. When I came first in class, he made sure I knew it. He stroked my ego a lot, and I am not complaining.
Girls are smart. That was the rule.
“Girls are smart” was not a campaign slogan in our house. It was the starting assumption. Later, at Lycée, I met some of the brightest girls I knew. We took responsibility for leadership, religious activities and practical work. There was no part of school life that required us to wait for a boy to do it.
The storage room did not give me a career plan. It gave me time to sit with a question and the confidence to find words for an answer. These days the questions are often about institutions, audiences and trust. I still like the moment when a difficult idea finally becomes clear enough to share.
The books stayed. So did the part of me that enjoys a dramatic entrance. This site has room for both.
