Recently I met with a group of Haitian women to discuss the six-month literacy course they had just completed. They welcomed me into their circle so warmly and described their experience so enthusiastically that I felt as though I had been a part of their journey of learning to read and write.

They expressed how difficult it had been to find two hours a day for the literacy class. Some talked about how at times they had been sick but were determined to continue anyway; one woman had delivered a baby during the course but had returned soon afterward so she wouldn’t forget what she had learned. One woman proudly told how she was able to sign her name in the witness registry at her daughter’s wedding—the first time she didn’t have to use an “X” for her signature! The conversation was so lively that before one woman had finished speaking another stood to ensure that she would be the next to speak.

We crisscrossed the circle several times before there was a lull in the conversation. We sat, smiles on our faces, reflecting on the many important things people were saying. Then, a woman who had not yet spoken stood up very deliberately. She looked around the group and said very softly, “I always thought I was stupid. There was no way I was ever going to let other people know I couldn’t read and write. They invited me to this literacy group, but I wouldn’t come. But every day the teacher or one of the participants visited me at my house. They really wanted me to come! So one day, I went… and do you know what? I saw that I was not the only person who couldn’t read and write! None of us could! But do you know what else? I began to understand that I could learn—I wasn’t so stupid after all! I’m still not very good at it, but I read anything I can get my hands on—and I love it! Now I think everybody should learn to read and write!”

Learning to read and write were very important achievements in this woman’s life. But something else had happened in these six months. The shame and isolation she had felt was disappearing. Like other women in the group, she discovered that she was neither alone nor stupid.

These women had come together as isolated individuals from the margins of society. They felt defeated and convinced of their own inadequacy. Now, as I sat with them only a half year later, I felt a force among them that wasn’t generated simply by twenty individuals learning to read and write. These women had become a unified body of learners who had struggled and conquered together. Their cohesiveness was so intense that it drew me into it. Their lives were changing. They were discovering their dignity and their rightful place in society.

It was an honor to have shared a day with these women. And even though we shared only a brief moment, my life is different for having met them.