By Isabella Williams
Working with the South African government is, at best, a study in ambiguity. When I took the calculated risk of piling into a car with five strangers—most of them men—I realized I had a three-hour journey ahead. I hadn’t yet prepared what I was going to say to the girls we were visiting. Our mission was to donate sanitary pads and speak with them in small groups.
“We made sure a woman is with you. She’ll protect you or get you whatever you need,” one of the men said, gesturing toward a smiling woman in the middle seat. She cleared the space next to her for me. As the car began its journey, she asked me about my pageant journey and how I came to write a book.
Those three hours gave us ample time to form a connection. We talked about life in these rural areas, where basic necessities like soap and feminine hygiene products are often unavailable. I learned that wealthier towns—predominantly white—provide these items in their schools, while the smaller, underserved townships do not.
At first glance, it seems like access to pads should be the responsibility of the individual. But as I listened, I realized the issue is far more systemic. The lack of access to such basic items interrupts girls’ education in profound ways. From a broader perspective, it’s clear that providing these supplies is not just an act of charity but a necessity for equity. If the government ensured access to these products in all schools, it would help keep girls in the classroom, increase graduation rates, and ultimately empower them to contribute to the local economy.
My mind began to race, recalibrating everything I had planned to say. I couldn’t simply encourage the girls to use products they didn’t have access to. My message needed to inspire action, a solution.
Suddenly, we arrived at the school. My phone was taken so the group could record videos, and my female guide ushered me toward the stage. As I walked through rows of high school-aged girls—20 in total—I felt a wave of panic. Why do I always procrastinate and then find myself in high-stakes situations?
I sat next to the school staff as the group introduced themselves in the local language. I tried to focus, running through my thoughts, but my name was announced before I felt ready.
The microphone was handed to me, and I worried that my pounding heartbeat might echo through the room. I glanced around, making eye contact with as many girls as I could. There were more than 500 in attendance.
“My name is Isabella Williams,” I began. “I could tell you all about my achievements and why I’m here, hoping you’ll take me seriously. But I’d rather get straight to the point.
You deserve access to feminine health products. You deserve the right to stay in school. These aren’t privileges—they’re basic rights. To maintain and demand those rights, you must focus on your education and never stop standing up for what is just.
Women are going to change this world. Someday, a future of academically accomplished, highly intelligent women will run this planet. And that future is you—every one of you sitting here today. You are the future.”
When I finished, there was a brief silence. Then, the loudest applause I’ve ever heard erupted in the room.
I am far from the most qualified person to do this work. I only know what it feels like to be a young girl in a small town, fighting for independence and opportunity. And I remember the women who saw me as an equal and showed me a path forward.
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Isabella Williams is the current Miss Lake Champlain (Vermont). You can find her on her title's Instagram and/or her personal Instagram. She is the author of several books, and the illustrator of the recent release The Fire Within You.
To learn more about Isabella, feel free to check out her Interview with Section 36.
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