The ability to dream has never been a topic I thought twice about. As a little girl in America, I was taught I was precious and was always challenged to be whatever I wanted. Dreams of being an archeologist or ballerina were never out of the question.
You see, everyday I realize more to be born in America is like winning the lottery. Quite literally, nothing can stop you. Opportunities, resources, scholarships, jobs and dreams, yes dreams, are always available. We’re allowed to travel, move to another city and simply start over whenever we want.
Whenever we want!
We are a country built on dreams. To think that I could dream, and only my own expectations would stop me…what a wild thought anywhere else.
In Albania, I have learned otherwise. Here, dreams are scarce. Today my heart was shattered for my little girls. My sweet girls at our summer-camp, my girls that are so quick to hug, give every ounce of their compassionate souls, giggle and just…love.
Here, little girls dream small and even their small dreams can look dim, vague and unrewarding. These little precious girls have stolen my heart; with black holes in their teeth and mismatched clothing, with broken sandals and ripped up books from home. These little girls that laugh hard and play so sweet, dream innocently, yet know they will probably continue to live on that same impoverished mountainside for the rest of their life. These little girls dream of travels around the world but know they will soon be put to rest.
Today a “King” and “Queen” was awarded for the last day of camp. The King, awarded on the best soccer skills; the Queen, awarded on being the prettiest. Here, being pretty is not an added bonus, but a devastating necessity. These little girls with dreams are less than valued. The victory of the Queen did not make me want to rejoice, but to cradle her and cry in the lies the society has spoken to her-that beauty is her only sense of worth and her dreams mean nothing.
What an overlooked blessing we have! Do you realize that?
In America we are given everything, yet we construct ourselves to do nothing. In the name of being a “successful” and “normal” American, we choose to stop dreaming. It is worse than poverty and sexism. Albania is not the land I was referring to of desolate dreams. It is America, where we crush our own dreams and opportunities for lack of confidence to make a difference.
May we always remember to dream big dreams and follow them, if not for ourselves, but for the little girls around the world that have no choice but to stay where they have been born. For the lost potential of singers, doctors, dancers and lawyers truly unable to escape the fate they have been given.
