Highlighting Canada’s Talented Refugee Artists

A Story of Hope and Healing 

We are excited to feature Muzhda Akbari in our Refugee Creator Series. A 19-year-old activist and artist advocating for girls’ rights to education, Muzhda’s journey began in Afghanistan, where the Taliban’s takeover in August 2021 forced her family to flee to Pakistan. After spending a difficult year as refugees, they were evacuated to Canada in December 2022. Now settled in Canada, Muzhda continues her advocacy, drawing from her personal experiences and the struggles faced by those still in Afghanistan. 

Muzhda is not only an activist but also a talented artist, expressing herself through writing, drawing, and photography. Art has provided her with a vital outlet throughout her life, first as a refuge during her childhood in Afghanistan and now as a way to heal, advocate, and share her story with the world. 

Read more about how Muzhda has begun this inspiring journey in the blog written by Muzhda below. 

Art as My Refuge: A Story of Hope and Healing 

By: Muzhda Akbari  

It’s hard to call myself an artist, but art, with me as the storyteller, holds profound meaning in my life journey. Reflecting on my life, both as a refugee and as a young girl in my homeland, Afghanistan, I found both solace and joy in art. In school, art was my escape—a time and space where I could truly be myself and let my imagination bloom through colors and flowers. As I grew older, I spent more time drawing and painting. I loved nature, the moon, and sunflowers. Over time, art became a dear friend, and I found myself drawing every day. 

But soon, life in Afghanistan took a different turn. War and bombings became a constant reality, and the fear surrounding me began to stifle my imagination as the themes of fun and joy shifted to fear and grief. It was then that I turned to writing, capturing the things I struggled to understand. Writing became a creative outlet to help me make sense of my world—its ups and downs. In school, I used art to tell stories, especially those about women and girls and their resilience. Later on, I took up photography, and it was through photography that I combined writing and imagery as tools to advocate and tell stories. Photography allowed me to capture moments that words alone couldn’t fully express, adding depth and a different dimension to my storytelling. 

Then, during the summer of 2021, everything changed. The Taliban came into power, and my family and I became refugees. A new chapter in my life began, marked by a new identity: refugee. We found ourselves in a different country, speaking a different language, and spending a year in Pakistan. The closure of schools and the challenges of refugee life were difficult, and depression became an added struggle. But amid it all, art came to my rescue once again. Art, with its blank canvas, allowed me to pour my heart onto paper. I drew to advocate, to cry, to feel, and, most importantly, to heal. 

During this time, I also got a Rubab, Afghanistan’s national musical instrument, and started learning to play it. Though not a professional, the gentle melodies gave me another way to tell my story, offering comfort and reminding me once again that art is healing. The Rubab’s notes spoke the words I often could not express, giving me a sense of hope and connection to my homeland. As the days passed in Pakistan, I began writing daily, documenting my thoughts and experiences. Writing helped me not only cope with my emotions but also understand them, allowing me to articulate my hopes and fears in a way that felt real and tangible. 

After the Taliban’s announcement of the closure of schools for girls in Afghanistan, I created a piece that vividly expresses my journey over the past three years: a drawing of a little girl in Afghanistan waiting for her school to reopen while watching her brothers reach their dreams. This artwork is a reflection of both my pain and my hope. It captures the heartbreak of being denied an education. It also shows the determination to keep dreaming, despite everything. 

I’ve realized my life without art feels incomplete. Art has been a comforting companion through the most challenging moments, a medium to express what words often cannot. Art, for me, as a tool of storytelling, has taken many forms—drawings, paintings, writing, music, photography, and stories. Each form has helped me process my emotions in different ways. Moving forward, I want to keep this friend by my side, using my creativity and art to advocate, to inspire, to heal, and to share messages of hope, resilience, and empathy with the world. I want to use my art to reach others who might feel voiceless, just as I once did, and to remind them that, despite the hardships, there is always hope to be found. 

The Same Peace That Has Betrayed Us
By: Muzhda Akbari
Translated Version 

I came to this corner of the world—
A place so peaceful that at times, I wonder if it’s all a dream,
Or merely a fantasy.
Here, peace exists—
The same peace that once betrayed us. 

Even the sky here,
Is full of joy, white doves in flight,
Unburdened by the fear of iron doves.
The streets tell stories—
Stories of tranquility.
And the people sing songs,
Songs of freedom…
They laugh, too. 

But I remain unchanged.
Why is that?
My heart still longs for freedom,
Perhaps only my body is here,
And my soul remains there—
Far away, still at home. 

Muzhda 

I Wish She Could Smile
By: Muzhda Akbari
Translated Version 

I wish it were possible…
To cradle this land in my arms. 

I wish it were possible
To share her tales of heroes,
Of colorful bows that paint the sky… 

I wish it were possible
To sing her a lullaby,
So she could rest, just once—
Sleep and dream without nightmares. 

I wish it were possible
For the leaves, held gently by the breeze,
To dance in joy, instead of sorrow and lament,
Under the rain that falls upon her. 

I wish she could smile,
And I could capture that moment—
A smile, for once…
I wish. 

Muzhda