The unstoppable journey of Mabia Akhter Simanto

In the history of Bangladeshi sports, certain moments are etched in collective memory. One such moment occurred on February 7, 2016, at the South Asian Games. As the national anthem played, a young girl stood atop the podium, tears streaming down her face, her salute trembling with raw emotion.

That girl was Mabia Akhter Simanto, the first Bangladeshi woman to win an international gold medal in weightlifting. But behind those tears wasn’t just the joy of a medal; there was the weight of a lifetime spent fighting poverty, social exclusion, and the suffocating expectations of a society that once saw her as a "burden."

The Girl Who Was "Too Dark" to Succeed

Mabia’s journey didn't begin with a dream of athletic glory. It began with a mother’s desperation. "I was very reluctant when it came to studies," Mabia recalls. "One day, my mother beat me severely. She was worried because I was dark-skinned and didn't study. She cried out, 'I won’t be able to marry you off... how will you survive?'"

An hour later, when her maternal uncle, a boxing coach, heard this, he took things into his own hands. Seeing the young, restless girl, he decided to channel her energy elsewhere. He took her to a gymnasium filled with the thunderous sound of iron hitting the floor.

Mabia wasn’t enamoured by the sport at first. In fact, she hated it. "I did weightlifting out of the greed for food," she admits with honesty. "We were given a banana and a glass of milk. At home, there wasn't enough food. I didn't do it for passion; I did it because I needed it to survive."

Lifting the Burden of Poverty

The reality of Mabia’s childhood sounds like a scene from a poignant film. Her father, a man of limited means, once increased her sister’s age on her birth certificate just so he could marry her off and reduce the family’s financial strain.

Mabia remembers her brother and sister sharing a single pair of sponge sandals to go to school—one would wait at home while the other wore them to class. Relatives would invite them to weddings out of formality but secretly hoped they wouldn't show up in their worn-out clothes.

"I saw my sister make every sacrifice for me. I saw my father’s compromises," Mabia says. "I decided then that I would take my life to a place where my family would finally have value in society."

The "Caged Animals" of the Gymnasium

Even as her talent blossomed, the environment was far from professional. Mabia describes the national weightlifting gymnasium as a room barely larger than a standard hall, where water logs the floors on rainy days.

"I once said we are like caged animals," she explains. "Facilities were limited, and before 2016, no one even knew what weightlifting was. People would ask if I did athletics or boxing. They couldn’t decipher the fact that a girl was lifting heavy iron."

Despite the lack of an Olympic scholarship and being overlooked in favour of "readymade" foreign-born athletes in other sports, Mabia’s resolve never flickered. Her "power," she says, didn't come from supplements or elite training—it came from the memory of poverty.

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Rebirth and Recognition

February 7, 2016, was more than a victory; it was a rebirth. The girl who was once mocked for her skin tone and lack of education became a national icon. "Now, when my father walks down the street, people call him 'Mabia’s father.' My parents have recognition in society. I have a job in the Bangladesh Ansar and a house in my own name," she says.

When asked about the people who once looked down on her and now bring her sweets, Mabia smiles. "I enjoy it. It’s tough to break someone’s preconceptions. I have broken everyone’s misconceptions, and I like that."

A Message to the Next Generation

Today, Mabia Akhter Simanto remains her own biggest rival. She laments that the younger generation often lacks the "fire" she had, perhaps because they haven't had to fight the same demons.

Her philosophy for women in Bangladesh is simple yet profound: "No one will make a place for you. You have to make your own place and survive there." She dismisses the obsession with certificates and skin colour. "Education is just a certificate; skin colour is just a colour. Neither defines your value in society. Your work does."

Mabia Akhter Simanto’s story is a reminder that boundaries are often self-imposed or socially constructed. From a hungry child in Khilgaon to a gold medalist on the international stage, she has proven that when you lift the weights of your life with enough grit, eventually, the world has no choice but to watch you rise.