I feel ashamed when I look back on my past indifference towards the Syrian regime.
I was 55 years old when the revolution erupted. I knew how corrupt, unjust and brutal the government was.
Every Syrian has heard how the government reacted to the Muslim Brotherhood uprising in the city of Hama in the 1980s. Thousands of civilians were killed. Yet I still didn’t hate the regime.
As a university-educated woman, I should have known better.
But in April 2011, when the young men of my city Idlib took to the streets in peaceful protests, waving olive branches and calling for the regime to be toppled, their actions and words touched my heart.
The regime’s reaction was harsh, responding with bullets and detentions.
As the numbers of martyrs and wounded increased, I finally realised that the government must fall.
I decided to join revolution and contribute in whatever way I could. I took part in protests and visited the families of martyrs and detainees to offer them support.
At the time, I was a teacher at a secondary school for girls. Without realising it, I began to favour those students who opposed the regime.
One day while I was teaching, we heard protesters chanting outside. We all got out of our seats and rushed to the windows. A few girls moved closer to me, whispering prayers.
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