Women’s Education in Uzbekistan: Opportunities and the Path to Progress

Since gaining independence, Uzbekistan has undertaken major reforms in the field of education. In particular, significant opportunities have been created for women to gain knowledge and acquire professional skills. This is because one of the key factors in societal development is women’s literacy and their active participation in science, culture, and the economy.

Today, thousands of girls across Uzbekistan have the opportunity to study at higher educational institutions. Government-funded scholarships play a vital role in supporting them on this journey. These efforts are part of wide-ranging reforms aimed at strengthening the role of women in society and unlocking their full potential.

Scholarships and Quotas for Women

Special benefits and programs have been introduced for girls seeking education in Uzbekistan. Currently:

Separate quotas are allocated for female students admitted under state scholarships.

Through the “Women’s Register,” talented but financially disadvantaged girls receive assistance to pay their tuition fees.

Under the “Iron Register” and “Youth Register” programs, special privileges are provided to support girls’ education.

Presidential scholarships and other grants are awarded to encourage the academic achievements of outstanding young women.

International scholarships and global education programs are also making it possible for girls to study abroad.

Additionally, the number of vocational training centers for girls has increased in recent years, where they are trained in modern professions. The growing number of skilled women in fields such as IT, engineering, and business is a clear indication of this progress.

Progress in Girls’ Education

Currently, a significant proportion of students in higher education institutions are women. Across the country, many women are becoming leading specialists—not only in education but also in entrepreneurship, science, and social spheres.

In particular, recent years have seen:

A growing interest among girls in STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) fields.

The establishment of business incubators and entrepreneurship development centers specifically for women.

Successful participation of Uzbek girls in various international grant programs.

Thanks to the reforms being implemented by our government, young women are now developing into competitive professionals not only within the country but also on a global scale.

Peace – The Foundation of Independent Learning

Today, young people in Uzbekistan have the opportunity to pursue knowledge freely in a peaceful and independent country. This serves as a solid foundation and a confident step toward a bright future.

In contrast, we see thousands of young people around the world being deprived of education due to wars, instability, and conflicts. In Uzbekistan, however, great attention is paid to education, and favorable conditions are created for the youth. As a result, our girls are realizing their potential in science, technology, culture, and various other fields.

Therefore, today’s youth—especially young women—must set high goals and make full use of the educational opportunities available to them. Because we, the youth of Uzbekistan, are learning with confidence in a peaceful nation and a promising tomorrow!

Nozima Ziyodilloyeva 

Student of Uzbekistan State World Languages University

UPSET WITH ME!

Your craziness and airiness won’t kill me

Your being upset with me rather troubles 

Why so stubborn and arrogant you are 

I have the companionship only with you

It’s well tested & proven thousand times

Can sacrifice life & break relationships

Have been waiting for your sweet smile

Can stand anything but your indifference 

I know not if I am worthy of your love 

But I can’t do sans you, trust me or not.

Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai @India

WITHOUT ANY REASON!

In search of faithfulness in this world 

I got to know I was in wrong address 

And my life hasn’t become complete 

My shortcomings were ignored though

I was punished without any reason

If I live on I feel like torturing myself 

And I go out fetching God in her heart

The person this heart sincerely seeks

There is always a mystery in the air

My days & nights are upset without you.

SLIGHT IMPRESSION!

You came to my world and disappeared

Next moment ; I thought several times 

That first look with a slight impression 

Why does it make my heart so restless 

Your smiling back with sweet glances

I don’t know what you are waiting for

Am I the one whom you trust so much

Why I have this feeling time and again

The buds of rosy lips have blossomed

Is it due to the passion of your heart?

MARK OF BLEMISH!

We will flow in the air, cloud and rain

As you’re my rain and I’m your cloud 

If I’m not yours, I won’t be anyone else’s 

Know not why the world is jealous of us

It’s not mark of blemish but kohl of love

An illness in accordance to this world 

But the ones in love know it as divinity 

The twist of love and life has brought us

I’m deep darkness and you’re my dawn

A lost traveller, I’m yours and you’re mine

It may be infatuation if love is one-sided

But ours is love for each other, isn’t it?

Dr. Prasana Kumar Dalai

(DOB 07/06/1973) is a passionate Indian Author-cum- bilingual poet while a tremendous lecturer of English by profession in the Ganjam district of Odisha.He is an accomplished source of inspiration for young generation of India .His free verse on Romantic and melancholic poems appreciated by everyone. He belongs to a small typical village Nandiagada of Ganjam District,the state of Odisha.After schooling he studied intermediate and Graduated In Kabisurjya Baladev vigyan Mahavidyalaya then M A in English from Berhampur University PhD in language and literature and D.litt from Colombian poetic house from South America.

He promotes his specific writings around the world literature and trades with multiple stems that are related to current issues based on his observation and experiences that needs urgent attention. He is an award-winning writer who has achieved various laurels from the circle of writing worldwide. His free verse poems not only inspires young readers but also the ready of current time. His poetic symbol is right now inspiring others, some of which are appreciated by laurels of India and across the world. Many of his poems have been translated in different Indian languages and earned global appreciation. Lots of well wishes for his upcoming writings and success in the future. He is an award-winning poet and author of many best-selling books.

Recently he has been awarded Rabindra nath Tagore and Gujarat Sahitya Academy for the year 2022 from Motivational Strips. Also a gold medal from the World Union of Poets in France & winner Of Rahim Karim’s world literary prize for 2023.The government of Odisha’s Higher Education Department appointed him as a president to the governing body of Padmashree Dr Ghanashyam Mishra Sanskrit Degree College, Kabisurjyanagar. He’s the winner of “HYPERPOEM ” GUINNESS WORLD RECORD 2023. Recently he was awarded, at the SABDA literary Festival at Assam, the highest literary honour from Peru’s Contributing World Literature 2024, the Prestigious Cesar Vallejo Award 2024, the Highest literary honour in Peru. He’s the director of teh Samrat Educational Charitable Trust in Berhampur, Ganjam, Odisha.

Vicedomini of the World Union of Poets for Italy.

Completed 249 Epistolary Poems with Kristy Raines of the USA.

Books.

1.Psalm of the Soul.

2. Rise of New Dawn.

3. Secret Of Torment.

4. Everything I Never Told You.

5.Vision Of Life National Library Kolkata.

6.100 Shadows of Dreams.

7.Timeless Anguish.

8.Voice of Silence.

9. I Cross my Heart from East to West. Epistolary Poetry with Kristy Raines

Hwa-byung

Hwa-byung will make you
yell at your children
fight with your family
go all red in the face
leap from your chair
shaking knuckled fists.

This rising heart fire 
takes hold of you:
poor and uneducated
a stuck-at-home wife.

Hwa-byung will ruin
your eating and sleeping
grinding on old grudges
seeping anger in rages
too long suppressed.

The rising heart fire
takes hold of men too:
frustrated, mortified
bad jobs with bad bosses
who don’t show respect
who reek of injustice
until you smolder inside.

Hwa-byung is Korean
for a mental disorder
that may afflict anyone
who withholds their anger
that builds in intensity
burns its way out
bursts through walls
tears down framing
explodes like a bomb

hollowing you out
in ways you don’t expect.

NOTE:
Once classified under depressive disorders, hwa-byung is a culture-bound condition found only in Korea. It was thought to be limited to disgruntled housewives with passive husbands and overbearing in-laws. It is now being diagnosed in male employees who are full of anxiety, nihilistic ideas, and regret about their lives.

No Joke

On lovely Lake Victoria
on the border with Uganda
three female students
at a missionary boarding school
began to laugh and laugh

and they couldn’t stop
and they didn’t stop
and more students joined in
and they couldn’t study
and they couldn’t eat
and they couldn’t sleep
and they couldn’t do anything
but laugh, laugh ’til it hurt
’til they were in pain and
crying between laughing jags
so the school closed down.

When school opened back up
the laughing started back up
so the school closed down.

Some girls arrived home
in their small rural villages
still laughing and laughing
and village girls laughed too
some boys, some adults
and it spread, and spread
to more than 200 people
laughing and laughing
for more than a year

and the experts blamed
the emotional dissonance
of a radical cultural shift
from tribal communities
to a modern way of life.

Laughter is said to be
the best of all medicines
but must always be taken
in a moderate dose.

NOTE:
The laughter epidemic was a mass psychogenic event that occurred in Tanganyika in 1962, soon after the country achieved independence. Schoolgirls brought the illness home to their villages and it spread wildly before disappearing.

The country is now known as Tanzania.

The Witches of Leroy

A pretty cheerleader fell down
and that’s how it all began
in the upstate New York town
that invented jiggly Jell-O.

She screamed and flailed about
cursing as if possessed
cuss words she’d never say…
she was not that kind of girl.

Her best friend suddenly ticced
convulsing, crazed, she ran wild
and sixteen other girls in town
swearing, thrashing, crashing
got rushed to the hospital
their parents hysterical
the ER in chaos
the nurses, doctors puzzled
as testing found no cause.

A rumor began to circulate
about a toxic spill
from a train derailment
but testing showed no toxins
on the high school grounds.

Erin Brockovich was invited
to speak and attract the media
declaring a chemical poisoning
with opinion taken as fact.

But why only teenage girls?
From chemicals miles away?
Spilled four decades prior?
Before the girls were born?

Time slid by as it always does
the parents demanding answers
accountability and recourse
long after their girls recovered
left for college and life away
from the town that created Jell-O.

NOTE:
Mass outbreaks of psychogenic illnesses have occurred in schools in many parts of the world. These events used to happen in convents and were once deemed satanic. Religious and shamanic interventions were employed when illnesses were medically inexplicable.

In the modern world, mass anxiety hysteria (acting crazy) and mass motor hysteria (sleeping sickness or convulsions) are social phenomena without identified physical pathology. Outbreaks are usually limited to the young and are believed to be triggered by issues in the community: emerging sexuality amidst social repression, poverty, dislocation, hopelessness.

At This Point

His gray hair

Is really arriving

On the scene

But who cares

He’s thrilled

To have hair

At this point.

Taylor Dibbert is a poet in Washington, DC. He’s author of, most recently, “Takoma.”

This Black Crevasse of Night

In this black crevasse of night,

when every dark wing

of grackle, crow and raven

appear to take silent flight,

as if I’ve paddled into the black

waters, far from the strand of dusk,

and dawn is a distant, mythic shore,

in this dark turning of summer,

when an invisible, black heat

suckles liquid from my skin –

I’ll soon be a parched mummy –

each night a silent decay begins again;

the things of the world molder

in lightless cellar recesses.

No wonder this night is for sleep,

an escape from inevitable, vast,

dark distances between silent stars;

in this black crevasse of night,

when all is sluggish and wilting,

the strongest steel begins to rust,

brilliant colors of the day fade:

electric, yellow goldenrod,

violets of thistle and clover,

the patinas of green, dulled

like tarnished copper roofs,

the jewel of Queen Anne’s lace,

a clouded ruby eye.

In this black crevasse of night,

the dew silently settles on webs

and grasses; not until morning

will I applaud the dark spiders,

quick trapeze acrobats,

under silvery circus tents.

Only the frogs’, the crickets’

and the few, remaining cicadas’

crooning is raucous in the silence,

in cattail and dark, bulrush speakeasies;

they sing for fleeting pleasure

in the few nights before the frost.

***
The cut-throat tale drowns me in blood
A sweet heart gives me a heart attack
My favorite eyes blind me
The future pushes me away
And only the snow supporting cool
Of me

***
The bombs instead of thunder crossed three times as if they had metal fingers. Angels learn to cry. The rain is learning to drip. I teach my thoughts to sleep and flow like water. I teach my saliva to flow. I’m learning to rain. I’m learning to cross my fingers every time someone dies. My dreams for a nuclear bomb to explode inside me without pain are not feasible. Instead of me, other people who want to live are dying. I am learning to live. I am learning to die. I teach life. I teach death. I teach. I’m studying. I can’t do anything. I don’t know. The angels hit the wrong buttons with their tears and it rains nuclear bombs. My heart stops and the hair on my head freezes in admiration. Groin hair no longer grows. Thoughts no longer grow. I dream that my lover fucked me so hard as if a nuclear bomb exploded in my anus. Teach me to love. I’m learning to die of love. Why am I not able to live with love? My eyes are cloudy. I teach my eyes to see. My eyes are learning to read the gazes of lovers who are no more. I count the trees that are no more. I look at the stones that used to be houses. I am learning the word no. I teach death. I study death. Angels drool and I drink this drool like nectar. The water is tainted with anger. The stone is again a ruin. The stone learns to be silent again. The stone will remain silent until the very end, but then it will be too late. I’m learning to drown myself in peace. I teach stones to be silent. I am learning to be a rock. I am learning to drown. I can heat up. I’m already at the bottom. The water screams everything in the language of dead birds. I swallow sperm in the hope that this is the filling of a bomb. I swallow pills in hope. I teach nuclear bombs to sleep.

***
The bomb didn’t kill you.
Why didn’t it?

I pretend to still love you.
Why?

Happy cards fill my mailbox again.
What’s that for?

Winter is counting down the new year again.
For whom?

***
What to feed the silence with?

My stomach rumbles without your moans
My sperm is empty without your hole
My head bursts like a watermelon
My name is ripped off my passport

[I’ve got your cocaine name scratched into my veins
Oahhh!]

A lonely room turns into a sunken boat
A cemetery crawls out from under the bed
A blanket hides the gray hair that hasn’t appeared yet

Silence is fed with old age that still not come

***
No one is born in a cemetery but I’d like to die in a maternity ward waiting for something new. No one else will be born after me. No one will see the new birth through my eyes. No one will die after I die (at least I won’t see anything else). After I die, I will stop being afraid of death. I will also stop being afraid of life, because life is a slow death. My gills will grow back in the morgue. I’ll turn into a fish and breathe glass emptiness. I’ll be cut into pieces. But who will eat me? Silence. No one asks the fish anything. Night. The fish won’t tell anyone anything. The cast iron board will slowly cover eyes. The fish will float downstream. We are all drowned. We’re all lil’ drowners who’ve overcome the fear of swimming outside the mother’s belly. The cosmos outside the mother’s belly is silent. Space is also a liquid. Space is also a fish. Everything flows. We all flow out. We will never meet each other again. We’ll never find self again. We’ll never press your random button, God. A bird with a beak overflowing with fluid sings softly. Death gives birth to a nothingness. A tree gives birth to a flower.