I Didn’t Think I Belonged Until I Walked into That Room
I still remember sitting there, reading the email over and over again: “Congratulations, you’ve been selected as a #dedoc° voice for ATTD‑Asia 2024.”
For a moment, I didn’t believe it. As someone living with type 1 diabetes in Pakistan, where opportunities like this are rare and often feel out of reach, this wasn’t just exciting, it felt unreal.
Since my diagnosis in 2011, diabetes has been a part of every corner of my life. It has challenged me, shaped me, and, over time, pushed me toward advocacy. I’ve been volunteering since 2017 to support others living with diabetes, speaking out, answering questions, holding hands (virtually and in real life), and trying to create a space where no one feels alone. But even with all that, I never imagined myself being part of something global, certainly not representing my country at an international conference.
And yet, there I was. In Singapore. At the first-ever ATTD‑Asia conference. A part of the global #dedoc° voices family.
Stepping into the Unknown
It was my first time attending an international diabetes event. My first time traveling solo outside of Pakistan. My first time walking into a space filled with people from all over the world who didn’t need me to explain what type 1 diabetes is. They just knew.
“Still, that little voice inside me whispered: Do I really belong here?”
But something changed the moment I walked into that room and saw the familiar #dedoc° badge on others’ chests. The nerves faded. The fear softened. And instead of feeling out of place, I felt surrounded by people who understood the exact path I had walked, people who weren’t strangers after all, but allies.
Moments that Stayed with Me
I laughed more than I thought I would. I made friends from countries I had only read about. We compared blood sugars like siblings, shared stories of hypo embarrassments like old friends, and talked about the weight and wonder of life with diabetes.
One moment that still sits with me: someone turned to me after hearing about diabetes care in Pakistan and said, “You’re doing so much with so little. That’s real strength”. I didn’t know how to respond, but my heart heard it. For the first time, my struggles and my efforts felt seen.
What I Took Home
I came back from ATTD‑Asia not just with notes and photos but with hope. Hope that voices from countries like mine do matter. Hope that we don’t need perfect systems to make meaningful change.
We just need people who care, who speak up, who don’t give up.
Being a #dedoc° voice reminded me that I have a seat at the table, even if that table once felt unreachable. I plan to use what I’ve gained in confidence, knowledge, and global connection to continue advocating in Pakistan, to keep building community, and to push for access and inclusion for all people with diabetes, no matter where they live.
Inspired by everything I experienced at ATTD‑Asia, I’ve also started working on a project called “Access to Technology for Diabetes Management in Pakistan”, a grassroots initiative aimed at highlighting the barriers faced by people with diabetes when it comes to accessing CGMs, insulin pumps, and other essential tools. The goal is to use real community data to start conversations, create awareness, and hopefully influence policy toward more affordable and accessible diabetes technology for everyone.
To the Quiet Voices, Step In
This experience gave me more than I could’ve imagined. It gave me belonging. It gave me belief. It gave me my voice, amplified.
To anyone wondering if you’re “qualified” enough, “expert” enough, or “visible” enough to be heard, please know this: you already belong. Sometimes you just need to walk into the right room to realize it.
