From a village girl to a doctor: The journey of Dr Afsana Akhter
Today, the same girl who was once told she should stop studying to secure a ‘good husband’, is a doctor, tending to women’s health and delivering babies in her own clinic. Her story is not only one of personal success, but also of persistence against poverty, patriarchy and the quiet weight of rural expectations
When Dr Afsana Akhter first stepped into a BRAC classroom as a child, she did so barefoot. She was too young to enrol, yet every day, she joined her sisters on the two-kilometre walk to school, standing by the doorway just to listen.
"I just wanted to learn," she recalls. "When I was finally allowed to join, it felt like the world had opened up for me."
Today, that same girl, once told she should stop studying to secure a "good husband," is a doctor, tending to women's health and delivering babies in her own clinic. Her story is not only one of personal success, but also of persistence against poverty, patriarchy, and the quiet weight of rural expectations.
"I remember people telling my father not to waste his money on educating me," she says with a faint smile. "Now, as a doctor, those same people come to me for medical treatment, and for career advice for their children."
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Her dream of becoming a doctor was born out of fear — the fear of losing her mother. She was still in secondary school when her mother was diagnosed with cervical cancer.
"We did not have enough money for treatment," she says. "My brothers-in-law helped us pay the hospital bills, but watching my mother in pain made me realise how vulnerable women in rural areas are."
Her mother, she says, "was the nicest person in the world, always putting others' health before her own". It was then that Afsana decided to dedicate her life to women's health, a promise she would keep even when the path grew unbearably difficult.
A colourful beginning
Her first school experience came through BRAC, in a brightly painted room that instantly captured her imagination. "It was beautiful, decorated in every colour," she recalls. "My sisters enrolled, but I was too young."
That did not stop her. For three years, she shadowed their classes from the door until she was finally called for an interview.
"I passed, but my first tooth had not fallen out yet, so they rejected me again. I asked, 'If I break my tooth, can I be admitted?'" The board gave in, amused by her determination.
Her first teacher, Farida Yeasmin, made learning magical. "We learnt through dancing, singing, acting, and I never missed school. Every morning I would run along the muddy road, excited to learn something new."
I remember people telling my father not to waste his money on educating me," Afsana says with a faint smile. "Now, as a doctor, those same people come to me for medical treatment, and for career advice for their children.
But secondary school was less welcoming. Teachers paid little attention. "I got no help like before," she says. "So I worked harder." Her persistence paid off, she placed eighth in her class six exams. Then came another obstacle: her father could no longer afford the school fee. She transferred to a cheaper school.
In class eight, Afsana joined BRAC's Kishori Netri (adolescent leader) programme, a turning point in her life. "It was so exciting to be a leader in my village," she recalls. She went door-to-door, encouraging parents to enrol their children in school. "We played together, talked about everything young girls wondered about but rarely had the space to discuss."
By the time she reached higher secondary school, Afsana had chosen science, an expensive choice for her family.
"My younger brother had been born, and we had already sold our only land for my sisters' weddings and to send my brother-in-law abroad," she says quietly. Still, she persevered. She scored GPA 5 in both secondary and higher secondary exams, the highest marks possible.
Yet her success brought new criticism. "Our neighbours told my father not to waste more money on me, to save it for my brother instead. They said I had learnt enough, and if I studied too much, it would be hard to find a husband."
A road full of rejections
Undeterred, she began preparing for medical college on her own. With help from a friend who secured her a coaching discount, she studied day and night, but was turned down by every medical college.
When BRAC University announced a scholarship, hope flickered again. She travelled alone to Dhaka, her first time in the capital, and earned admission, though not in medicine. "They offered me a spot in computer science and engineering," she says. "It was not medicine, but I was happy. At least I could learn."
The daily commute from Gazipur to Dhaka took six hours by bus, yet she managed to excel in her first semester. Soon, she learned of another scholarship, one that could take her to China to study medicine. The condition: she had to learn Chinese.
"I enrolled in BRAC University's Institute of Languages as soon as they had space," she says. When she completed the course, she was accepted for the scholarship. "No one in my family knew anything about China," she smiles. "But everyone at BRAC helped me, even Lady Sarwat Abed, the director, came to the airport to drop me off."
China was both exhilarating and terrifying. "I called home as soon as I got a phone," she says. "My family's voices were small and frightened. My father started to cry."
At Thongchi University, she first studied Chinese, eventually passing the proficiency test with a score of five, high enough for a PhD. Later, she transferred to Southern Medical University in Guangzhou to study medicine.
Her scholarship covered little beyond tuition, so she worked part-time at a clothing store during the holidays. "My friends went home, but I stayed back to earn. I bought a laptop and sent money home for my brother's education."
From student to teacher
In her third year, she joined a university club that visited rural areas to teach children. "I taught English, I was the only foreigner who spoke it fluently," she says. The experience brought back memories of her own childhood in the village. "Their curiosity reminded me of myself," she says softly. Before returning to Guangzhou, she visited home, buying English-language medical books. "I knew I would need to relearn everything in English to work in Bangladesh."
For three years, she shadowed their classes from the door until she was finally called for an interview. "I passed, but my first tooth had not fallen out yet, so they rejected me again. I asked, 'If I break my tooth, can I be admitted?'" The board gave in, amused by her determination.
The fourth year was the hardest. "Days in class and the hospital, nights studying in English – hundreds of sleepless nights," she remembers. But in the end, it was worth it. She graduated top of her class.
Back in Bangladesh, the journey did not get easier. "It took over a year to get an internship," she says. Eventually, she joined a clinic, where her popularity soon caused friction. "There were very few female gynaecologists, so I attracted a lot of patients. The clinic was not happy; they were rude."
So her husband and she decided to start their own clinic, pooling their savings. "That is where my chamber is now," she smiles. "I see at least 25 patients a day, helping new mothers, guiding women through childbirth, helping them prepare to welcome a new life."
Family, faith and the future
Today, Dr Afsana is a mother of two. Her husband and mother-in-law form the support system that allows her to continue working. "My mother-in-law takes care of the children and household chores," she says. "My husband and I handle the rest. My family encourages me to do more every day."
She hopes to pursue higher education once her younger child grows a little older. "I still have a lot to learn," she says. "Learning takes you places, and I want to keep going."
Her story, she insists, is not exceptional; it is proof of what is possible with faith and support. "Anything is possible when you have the right people backing you," she says, her eyes glinting with quiet pride. "I truly hope my journey inspires other women in Bangladesh."
From the little girl who wanted to "break her tooth" just to go to school, to the doctor now breaking barriers for women in rural health, Dr Afsana Akhter's journey is a testament to the power of education, resilience, and unrelenting hope.
