
Razia Jan, who reached out from the South Shore to build a school for Afghan girls, dies at 81
Get Starting Point
A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday.
Enter Email
Sign Up
Ms. Jan, who became a US citizen after moving to Boston in 1970 to further her own studies, died of congestive heart failure July 20 at home in the Echo Park neighborhood of Los Angeles.
Advertisement
She was 81 and formerly lived for many years in Marshfield, where more than two decades ago she conceived the idea of returning to Afghanistan to create a better future for girls and women.
Advertisement
'Building a foundation of lasting change for a country — that's the big picture for all of us,' said
Ms. Jan greeted students outside their school in Kabul.
Beth Murphy
In pursuing her goals, Alberto said, Ms. Jan never gave up, whether she was raising money, seeking support from Afghan village elders, or persuading fathers to let their daughters attend school, which had been forbidden in the late-1990s, when the Taliban controlled the country.
'She just was relentless,' said Alberto, who added that it seemed as if Ms. Jan was incapable of hearing anything other than 'yes.'
If a village official refused an initial request, 'she would say, 'I will bide my time and ask again,' ' Alberto said. 'She did not take no for an answer.'
And when Ms. Jan faced obstacles building a school and expanding its student population, she remained endlessly optimistic.
'I saw her say 'yes' so many times when maybe another person would say 'no,' ' said
Rather than set aside plans, Quigley added, Ms. Jan would say: ' 'This is going to be hard to do — we can do this.' Any kind of roadblock that came along would not deter her at all. She would find a way around it.'
'She was really a powerhouse,' said
Advertisement
In Afghanistan, where those who oppose letting girls be educated have burned other girls' schools and poisoned students, Ms. Jan and the institution she founded were beacons for a better future, her friends said.
'Razia was hope personified, and I think that's her biggest legacy,' said
'She cared so much about the girls and their futures, and about the teachers and their families,' Murphy said. 'She has genuinely altered the lives of generations of people in Afghanistan. It's so remarkable.'
Ms. Jan was born on June 5, 1944, in Quetta, which has since then become part of Pakistan, and grew up there and in Kabul. She was the youngest of five siblings, including a half-brother from the first marriage of her mother, Zainab Sardar.
Her father, Sardar Ali Asghar Mohammed Zai, was from a prosperous extended family that owned agricultural lands and lived together in a compound.
After graduating from a women's college with bachelor's and master's degrees in early childhood education, Ms. Jan followed one of her brothers to the United States. He was at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
She studied at Radcliffe College and what is now Lesley University before moving to Marshfield, where she raised her son, Lars, as a single mother.
With Jan's Original Designs, she made clothes that she sold along the Eastern seaboard. Then she opened Razia's Tailors and Cleaners in Duxbury.
After the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, she made hundreds of fleece quilts with American flags and other designs and donated them to relief efforts. She also made large quilts bearing images and descriptions of those killed in the attacks.
Advertisement
A few years later,
'My mom's vision was, 'If I can educate a girl for a day, I'll educate a girl for a day,' ' said her son, Lars, who lives in Los Angeles. 'She believed in the cycle of education: the more that you can educate a girl, the more likely that she's going to be able to transmit that to her own children, and to her sisters and brothers.'
Ms. Jan spoke several languages, a legacy of her youth, which helped her negotiate with all the people whose approvals she needed for her school.
Her effort to create the school was inspired partly by her mother, whose generation didn't have the educational opportunities Ms. Jan enjoyed. She also drew inspiration from time she spent in Los Angeles with her only grandchild, Esme, when she was the same age as girls who attend the Zabuli Education Center.
'She poured such depth of love and attention and care on Esme,' said Mia Barron, Ms. Jan's daughter-in-law. 'They just loved being beside each other.'
A celebration of life will be announced for Ms. Jan, who in addition to her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter, leaves two brothers, Ashraf of Alexandra, Va., and Assif of Islamabad, Pakistan.
Advertisement
Ms. Jan,
'The tenacity of Afghan girls is the reason I remain optimistic,' she wrote near the end of her Globe essay, published just after the Taliban seized power. 'Now is not the time to surrender to despair. I will continue to educate girls, even if we are presented with new obstacles; we will make concessions in exchange for safety in education. We are resolute in the belief that education is the key to peaceful change, even when progress feels slow.'
Additional challenges would surely appear, she added, but 'what is easy and what is worthy are often not the same. I believe in the power of girls, just as I believe in the future of Afghanistan.'
Bryan Marquard can be reached at

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Boston Globe
3 days ago
- Boston Globe
Razia Jan, who reached out from the South Shore to build a school for Afghan girls, dies at 81
'We have educated thousands of girls who are now teaching their siblings and children to read and write,' Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up Ms. Jan, who became a US citizen after moving to Boston in 1970 to further her own studies, died of congestive heart failure July 20 at home in the Echo Park neighborhood of Los Angeles. Advertisement She was 81 and formerly lived for many years in Marshfield, where more than two decades ago she conceived the idea of returning to Afghanistan to create a better future for girls and women. Advertisement 'Building a foundation of lasting change for a country — that's the big picture for all of us,' said Ms. Jan greeted students outside their school in Kabul. Beth Murphy In pursuing her goals, Alberto said, Ms. Jan never gave up, whether she was raising money, seeking support from Afghan village elders, or persuading fathers to let their daughters attend school, which had been forbidden in the late-1990s, when the Taliban controlled the country. 'She just was relentless,' said Alberto, who added that it seemed as if Ms. Jan was incapable of hearing anything other than 'yes.' If a village official refused an initial request, 'she would say, 'I will bide my time and ask again,' ' Alberto said. 'She did not take no for an answer.' And when Ms. Jan faced obstacles building a school and expanding its student population, she remained endlessly optimistic. 'I saw her say 'yes' so many times when maybe another person would say 'no,' ' said Rather than set aside plans, Quigley added, Ms. Jan would say: ' 'This is going to be hard to do — we can do this.' Any kind of roadblock that came along would not deter her at all. She would find a way around it.' 'She was really a powerhouse,' said Advertisement In Afghanistan, where those who oppose letting girls be educated have burned other girls' schools and poisoned students, Ms. Jan and the institution she founded were beacons for a better future, her friends said. 'Razia was hope personified, and I think that's her biggest legacy,' said 'She cared so much about the girls and their futures, and about the teachers and their families,' Murphy said. 'She has genuinely altered the lives of generations of people in Afghanistan. It's so remarkable.' Ms. Jan was born on June 5, 1944, in Quetta, which has since then become part of Pakistan, and grew up there and in Kabul. She was the youngest of five siblings, including a half-brother from the first marriage of her mother, Zainab Sardar. Her father, Sardar Ali Asghar Mohammed Zai, was from a prosperous extended family that owned agricultural lands and lived together in a compound. After graduating from a women's college with bachelor's and master's degrees in early childhood education, Ms. Jan followed one of her brothers to the United States. He was at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. She studied at Radcliffe College and what is now Lesley University before moving to Marshfield, where she raised her son, Lars, as a single mother. With Jan's Original Designs, she made clothes that she sold along the Eastern seaboard. Then she opened Razia's Tailors and Cleaners in Duxbury. After the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, she made hundreds of fleece quilts with American flags and other designs and donated them to relief efforts. She also made large quilts bearing images and descriptions of those killed in the attacks. Advertisement A few years later, 'My mom's vision was, 'If I can educate a girl for a day, I'll educate a girl for a day,' ' said her son, Lars, who lives in Los Angeles. 'She believed in the cycle of education: the more that you can educate a girl, the more likely that she's going to be able to transmit that to her own children, and to her sisters and brothers.' Ms. Jan spoke several languages, a legacy of her youth, which helped her negotiate with all the people whose approvals she needed for her school. Her effort to create the school was inspired partly by her mother, whose generation didn't have the educational opportunities Ms. Jan enjoyed. She also drew inspiration from time she spent in Los Angeles with her only grandchild, Esme, when she was the same age as girls who attend the Zabuli Education Center. 'She poured such depth of love and attention and care on Esme,' said Mia Barron, Ms. Jan's daughter-in-law. 'They just loved being beside each other.' A celebration of life will be announced for Ms. Jan, who in addition to her son, daughter-in-law, and granddaughter, leaves two brothers, Ashraf of Alexandra, Va., and Assif of Islamabad, Pakistan. Advertisement Ms. Jan, 'The tenacity of Afghan girls is the reason I remain optimistic,' she wrote near the end of her Globe essay, published just after the Taliban seized power. 'Now is not the time to surrender to despair. I will continue to educate girls, even if we are presented with new obstacles; we will make concessions in exchange for safety in education. We are resolute in the belief that education is the key to peaceful change, even when progress feels slow.' Additional challenges would surely appear, she added, but 'what is easy and what is worthy are often not the same. I believe in the power of girls, just as I believe in the future of Afghanistan.' Bryan Marquard can be reached at

06-08-2025
Afghan women turn to online courses as the Taliban bans education
KABUL, Afghanistan -- One after the other, the opportunities vanished. Like so many other Afghan women, Sodaba could do little but watch as her country's new Taliban government imposed a stranglehold on women's lives. The Taliban seized power in Afghanistan in 2021, and quickly set about implementing a dizzying array of restrictions for women: No visiting parks or gyms, no eating in restaurants, no working, except in very few professions. But one of the cruelest blows for the pharmacology student was the ban on education beyond primary school. Pushed by necessity, she went online. And there, she found hope: a free computer coding course for women in Afghanistan. Taught in her own language, Dari, by a young Afghan refugee living half a world away, in Greece. 'I believe a person should not be (bowed) by circumstance, but should grow and get their dreams through every possible way,' Sodaba said. She began learning computer programming and website development. The new skills 'helped me regain my confidence and clarity in my direction,' said the 24-year-old, who asked to be identified by her first name only for safety reasons due to the education ban. 'I am so happy to be part of this journey.' The courses are part of Afghan Geeks, a company created by Murtaza Jafari, now 25, who arrived in Greece on a boat from Turkey years ago as a teenage refugee. While living in a shelter in Athens after he arrived, Jafari received help from a teacher to enroll in a computer coding course. He knew nothing about computers — not even how to switch one on — didn't know what coding was and didn't speak a word of English, essential for computer programming. 'I had no idea about English. No idea, like zero zero,' he said. 'And I was trying at the same time to learn Greek, learn English and then also learn computer. … It was super difficult for me.' But several months later, he earned his certificate. Coding opened up a new world. A couple of years ago, he set up Afghan Geeks. Jafari said he started providing online courses last December to help women in his homeland, and as an expression of gratitude for the help he received as a youngster alone in a foreign country. 'The main goal was to give back to the community, especially to the Afghan women, what I had received from the other people for free,' he said, sitting in his sparse one-room flat in downtown Athens. 'I think … sharing knowledge is what makes a real difference to someone,' he said. 'And if I share it, it just goes and expands, and then there's more people to learn things.' Jafari now has 28 female students in Afghanistan in three classes: beginner, intermediate and advanced. Aside from teaching, he also mentors his students in finding online internships and jobs using their new skills. For women in a country where nearly all professions are banned, the opportunity for online work is a lifeline. The most qualified join his team at Afghan Geeks, which also offers website development and chatbot creation services. He now has several clients, he said, from Afghanistan, the United States, the United Kingdom and Europe. 'Those clients were happy that they are contributing in a meaningful goal. So the goal was to support women. … And that's why they keep coming back for other projects that they have,' Jafari said. Although he's been teaching his students for seven months, Jafari has never seen their faces. He asks how they are and what the situation is in Afghanistan, 'but I've never asked them to open their cameras or to share their profile, to share the image. I've never done that. I don't want to do it, because I respect their culture, their choice.' With the Taliban government's restrictions increasingly confining women to their homes, and going as far as officially banning women's voices and bare faces in public, the web has opened a new world of possibilities for women in Afghanistan. A year and a half ago, Zuhal, a young Afghan woman whose dream of going to university was shattered, partnered with a university professor to launch an online academy for women. What began as a team of five people now has a crew of 150 teachers and administrators, and more than 4,000 students, she said. 'We are all working voluntarily with no salary, no support,' said the 20-year-old, who uses a nickname for fear of reprisals after receiving threats over the academy. 'Our only aim or goal is to provide free education for girls and to enhance research in Afghanistan.' The academy, Vision Online University, now runs courses in a range of subjects, from psychology and foreign languages to Quranic studies, nursing and public speaking, among others. When the education ban came into effect, 'I was depressed because nothing was available. There was no school, no university, no courses. And that really affected me,' said Zuhal. 'Then I thought (to) myself that this is not the solution. If I get depressed, that will not be helpful, not for me and not for other girls.' She decided 'that I shouldn't give up. I should do something for girls of my country.' Now she also pursues a degree in computer science through an American online university, the University of the People. It's tough, she said. With no funding, the academy for women can't pay for premium online services that allow large group meetings. She herself often struggles to afford her internet service. 'But I'm doing it because I have a goal," she said. "And my goal is to support girls. If I stop it, more than 4,000 or 5,000 girls will be depressed again.'


Boston Globe
06-08-2025
- Boston Globe
Afghan women turn to online courses as the Taliban bans education
Pushed by necessity, she went online. And there, she found hope: a free computer coding course for women in Afghanistan. Taught in her own language, Dari, by a young Afghan refugee living half a world away, in Greece. 'I believe a person should not be (bowed) by circumstance, but should grow and get their dreams through every possible way,' Sodaba said. She began learning computer programming and website development. The new skills 'helped me regain my confidence and clarity in my direction,' said the 24-year-old, who asked to be identified by her first name only for safety reasons due to the education ban. 'I am so happy to be part of this journey.' Advertisement The courses are part of Afghan Geeks, a company created by Murtaza Jafari, now 25, who arrived in Greece on a boat from Turkey years ago as a teenage refugee. 'I had no idea … Like zero zero' While living in a shelter in Athens after he arrived, Jafari received help from a teacher to enroll in a computer coding course. He knew nothing about computers — not even how to switch one on — didn't know what coding was and didn't speak a word of English, essential for computer programming. Advertisement 'I had no idea about English. No idea, like zero zero,' he said. 'And I was trying at the same time to learn Greek, learn English and then also learn computer. … It was super difficult for me.' But several months later, he earned his certificate. Coding opened up a new world. A couple of years ago, he set up Afghan Geeks. Paying it forward Jafari said he started providing online courses last December to help women in his homeland, and as an expression of gratitude for the help he received as a youngster alone in a foreign country. 'The main goal was to give back to the community, especially to the Afghan women, what I had received from the other people for free,' he said, sitting in his sparse one-room flat in downtown Athens. 'I think … sharing knowledge is what makes a real difference to someone,' he said. 'And if I share it, it just goes and expands, and then there's more people to learn things.' Jafari now has 28 female students in Afghanistan in three classes: beginner, intermediate and advanced. Aside from teaching, he also mentors his students in finding online internships and jobs using their new skills. For women in a country where nearly all professions are banned, the opportunity for online work is a lifeline. The most qualified join his team at Afghan Geeks, which also offers website development and chatbot creation services. He now has several clients, he said, from Afghanistan, the United States, the United Kingdom and Europe. 'Those clients were happy that they are contributing in a meaningful goal. So the goal was to support women. … And that's why they keep coming back for other projects that they have,' Jafari said. Advertisement Although he's been teaching his students for seven months, Jafari has never seen their faces. He asks how they are and what the situation is in Afghanistan, 'but I've never asked them to open their cameras or to share their profile, to share the image. I've never done that. I don't want to do it, because I respect their culture, their choice.' The online academy With the Taliban government's restrictions increasingly confining women to their homes, and going as far as officially banning women's voices and bare faces in public, the web has opened a new world of possibilities for women in Afghanistan. A year and a half ago, Zuhal, a young Afghan woman whose dream of going to university was shattered, partnered with a university professor to launch an online academy for women. What began as a team of five people now has a crew of 150 teachers and administrators, and more than 4,000 students, she said. 'We are all working voluntarily with no salary, no support,' said the 20-year-old, who uses a nickname for fear of reprisals after receiving threats over the academy. 'Our only aim or goal is to provide free education for girls and to enhance research in Afghanistan.' The academy, Vision Online University, now runs courses in a range of subjects, from psychology and foreign languages to Quranic studies, nursing and public speaking, among others. When the education ban came into effect, 'I was depressed because nothing was available. There was no school, no university, no courses. And that really affected me,' said Zuhal. Advertisement 'Then I thought (to) myself that this is not the solution. If I get depressed, that will not be helpful, not for me and not for other girls.' She decided 'that I shouldn't give up. I should do something for girls of my country.' Now she also pursues a degree in computer science through an American online university, the University of the People. It's tough, she said. With no funding, the academy for women can't pay for premium online services that allow large group meetings. She herself often struggles to afford her internet service. 'But I'm doing it because I have a goal,' she said. 'And my goal is to support girls. If I stop it, more than 4,000 or 5,000 girls will be depressed again.'