Yes, Malala smoked weed in college. It unlocked a surprising mental health journey.

NEW YORK – Malala Yousafzai is a bit of a troublemaker.

You may not expect it, given the solemn tone of her public persona. She was only 15 years old when she was shot by the Taliban, targeted for her advocacy for girls’ education. But growing up in Pakistan, she loved adventuring with friends and getting into mischief. By the time she woke up from a coma in a British hospital, she was instead known as the shy, serious and brave face of women’s rights activism. By 17, she became the youngest winner of the Nobel Peace Prize.

Now, the woman who needs no introduction is reintroducing herself again at the age of 28 in her new memoir, “Finding My Way” (out now from Atria Books).

It’s been an “extraordinary journey” to feel like a normal 20-something, Yousafzai tells USA TODAY. She never thought she was allowed to be the funny version of herself. Now she sits in our New York studios, cracking jokes about toxic boys and the study motivation memes of her on TikTok.

“I want to introduce the real me, the funny me, the messy me, the sad and the annoying me. All of that is me,” Yousafzai says. “I know that my story has been out there in media in the public for a very long time, and some people still read the old story of a 15-year-old girl being shot by the Taliban, and she's defined as brave and resilient and all of that. But I want the true story to be out there. I still do what I believe, and I still advocate for girls’ rights, but I am a human in the end. I also needed friendships and love and mental health support in my life that all of us need for us to be better in what we want to do.”

Acting her age: Malala spent college dancing, climbing rooftops

Yousafzai thought being a global activist meant “a very serious life” without friendship and romance. College changed her mind. She made friends who made her feel safe and helped her dress for 1980s aerobics-themed dance parties (“I had no clue what that was,” Yousafzai says). She climbed trees and rooftops on campus that "could get you into trouble." She joined far too many clubs.

Best of all? She let herself believe she deserved this kind of fun.

There were also some abnormal college experiences. Two Metropolitan Police officers ("middle-aged dads in blazers and earpieces," she writes in the book) traveled with her to parties and classes, even living in her dorm hall. She regularly missed classes for speaking events. One week, she traveled to three different countries for the Malala Fund and fell behind in her studies.

She “nearly failed” her first-year exams. The tutor wrote a letter to her parents and staff, explaining that she would have to forgo travel during school. She learned to ask for help and sought academic support. Little by little, she caught up.

She still felt a dilemma every time she chose school over her activism. She also had financial concerns, being the primary provider for her parents and brothers.

“If I stayed behind in my studies, I could be kicked out of college. That’s the warning I was getting from my tutor, that if you fail your exams, you won’t get a second chance. That really scared me,” Yousafzai says. “It was a constant debate around if I go, it could help this many million girls, it could unlock the resources. And of course, the advocacy world is just a lot more complex that it's one step at a time, but the impact could be that it gives education to millions of girls in the future.”

Smoking weed led Malala to process Taliban attack for the first time

Her college experience took another turn after a flashback that left Yousafzai with panic attacks and anxiety. She was smoking weed from a bong with friends, thinking it would be a night of laughing and chatting, Yousafzai says. Then it took a “sharp, dark turn.” She started reliving the Taliban shooting, remembering parts of the day she thought were lost somewhere deep in her brain. For days, she was scared to sleep. Her friends slept on the floor in her dorm room beside her.

“I thought I had forgotten about the incident, I didn’t recall anything. And in those hours, I was reliving all of that. It was terrifying,” Yousafzai says. “It just made me realize how there was this unaddressed part of the attack that I had received many surgeries and all those treatments, but the mental health part of it was the missing piece that we had never addressed.”

Seven years after the attack, she was diagnosed with PTSD and anxiety. It’s given her a new lens at how mental health and education must go hand-in-hand, especially when she works with students growing up in active warzones.

Malala was hesitant about marriage. What changed her mind?

With so much going on in her life, Yousafzai thought dating was off the table. She says she was insecure about her looks and facial symmetry because the attack injured nerves on her left side. Then she met an entirely unavailable, “mysterious” boy who was a rumored drug dealer on campus.

“I didn’t realize I was attracted to bad boys,” Yousafzai quips.

Her friends warned her to stay away, but she insisted he had a good heart. When I quote the dating adage “I can fix him,” Yousafzai says that about summed it up. It didn’t work out – he “ghosted” her – but it taught her that love could be a part of her life, too.

Years later, Yousafzai met her husband Asser Malik through friends while go-karting. She bumped up against the wall in her kart and thought she had a concussion. He encouraged her to get back on the track. He was funny and good looking, she says. She originally agreed to help him find a girlfriend, secretly hoping she could be in the running. The pair had a loosely defined long distance relationship while she was in college during COVID – him in Pakistan, her in the U.K.

She knew this was something serious, but felt conflicted and turned off by the idea of marriage.

“On the one hand, I was holding his hand, stay with me, don't leave me because I love you. And then on the other side, I was not in agreement with marriage as an institution because I had seen growing up girls married off by force, girls losing their dreams, their education, and it's something I just could not process,” Yousafzai says. “At the same time, I knew that even in developed countries, marriage means more compromises for women.”

Like a good student, she threw herself into research mode. She talked to her friends and her mom, who had an arranged marriage to Yousafzai’s dad and never went to school. She turned to famous authors.

“I was like ‘Virginia Woolf, please help me. bell hooks, where are you? Give me some signals,’” Yousafzai says.

In the end, it was her many conversations with Malik that changed her mind about marriage. He understood her concerns and told her he wanted to be with her “however you want.” It's now been four years since they married and she refers to him as “the one.” He’s introduced her to new hobbies like weightlifting, running, golf and cricket. She savors quiet moments like meals together between busy schedules.

“Marriage is a beautiful relationship. It is friendship, and it's this strong bond between two people who love each other and who bring more beauty to each other's lives,” Yousafzai says. “I am so grateful that I have somebody who is there for me who looks after me, and I want to also make his life more beautiful.”

Clare Mulroy is USA TODAY’s Books Reporter, where she covers buzzy releases, chats with authors and dives into the culture of reading. Find her on Instagram, subscribe to our weekly Books newsletter or tell her what you’re reading at cmulroy@usatoday.com.

This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Yes, Malala smoked weed in college. It unlocked a surprising mental health journey.

Reporting by Clare Mulroy, USA TODAY / USA TODAY

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