My story began with newspapers. In our house, everything was on a schedule. We woke up every morning at six and sat down to breakfast at seven. And it was at breakfast that my grandfather started a tradition: we would discuss the news from the newspaper. I still remember how I tried to get up early so as not to miss these conversations. Back then, the newspaper would arrive in the morning, and for me, it was a real event.

When I was little, I would just sit and listen to my grandparents discussing things. I was curious why they agreed on some things and disagreed on others. And as I got older, I began to express my opinions myself. I think that’s when my love for journalism began. Our house was always full of interesting people. Actors, artists, musicians, and other creative people often visited. But, as was customary in our Turkmen family, children weren’t supposed to be around adults.

So I found my own way to be there. I sat outside the door and listened.

I was incredibly interested in what they were talking about, what they were discussing, how they thought, how they argued. I could listen to these conversations for hours.

And then it wasn’t hard to figure out where I needed to go to study.

In my family, journalism was practically a family tradition: my grandfather, mother, and father were all journalists.

After school, I decided to go to university. I was so confident in my decision that I applied to three universities at once.

And… I wasn’t accepted by any of them.

Now I can talk about it calmly, but back then, I wasn’t laughing at all. I felt like a real failure and sank into deep despair. But at some point, I said to myself, “I can do this.” My mother also didn’t let me wallow in self-pity for long. She sternly told me I had a year to prepare and submit my application next time. And I really pulled myself together. I hardly left the house, studying day and night. Gradually, I realized that perhaps I should get a degree in philology first. And then the opportunity arose to enroll in the history and philology departments. I prepared and enrolled.

In my second year, I got married. I’m sure many expected me to drop out, as sometimes happens. But I didn’t. I continued my studies. My husband and family supported me. In my third year, I gave birth to a son.

And then the real school of life began: studying, a small child, household chores. I won’t hide the fact that it was difficult. But it was then that I realized one simple thing: sometimes life doesn’t get easier—you just get stronger. In 1997, I graduated from college. But I didn’t get my diploma right away. At that time, after graduating from university, you had to do a two-year internship.

I landed an internship at Diyar magazine, where my father worked. After all, I come from a long line of journalists. I saw my grandfather attend meetings, interact with people, conduct interviews, and be constantly on the move. I wanted to experience that life too.

This was especially important to me. I worked side by side with my father and felt his support. He helped when needed, gave advice, and sometimes even sternly corrected my mistakes. The two years of internship flew by so quickly that I didn’t even notice. I graduated from university.

By then, I had already had my second daughter. And then I decided… to leave journalism. Life has a funny way of upending our plans. My husband’s sister offered me a job teaching history at a banking school. I accepted without hesitation. A year later, my third daughter was born, and I went on maternity leave. Back then, my entire life was dedicated to my family. Having a home, children, and raising three children was a tremendous joy, but also a tremendous amount of work. And I believe that everyone should experience this at some point, if life allows it. At that moment, I felt I had to devote myself entirely to my family.

And then I returned.

Over time, journalism eventually returned to my life.

I worked as a journalist at the Turkmen Information Agency (TID), on the TmLive website, and on the Turkmenportal news portal.

At the same time, I organized concerts, sports festivals, trainings, master classes, and other events.

Today, I collaborate with various media outlets, am the head of the TmLive podcast, founded the ÝYLDYZ project, am a member of the World People’s Assembly, and am a member of the public association “Achievements of the Youth of Turkmenistan.”

   I launched an online studio and created the website “Business Turkmenistan.” These projects no longer exist for various reasons. And, you know, I don’t see this as a loss. Not every project has to last forever. Projects come into our lives to teach us something, give us experience, meet people, and lead us to the next stage.

Why am I a journalist?

I’ve always been a journalist. I enjoy discussing various topics, asking questions, interacting with people, learning their stories, and then teaching them to others. Over the years, I’ve written about culture, sports, science, business, and all manner of life. I’ve had the opportunity to interview famous and influential people: football coach Kurban Berdyev, ten-time world figure skating champion Irina Rodnina, Russian and American athlete and actress Oleg Takhtarov, WBA world champion Denis Lebedev, Honored Artist of Russia Vladimir Zaitsev, French couturier Stéphanie Couder, French opera singer Magali Léger, pop star Sardor Rahimkhon, as well as Sergey Lazarev, Zara, Nyusha, and many other famous people.

Every such encounter taught me something. But you know what’s interesting? Many people call me an influencer these days.

But I’ll put it more simply. I’m a journalist. And perhaps that’s a broad definition that really resonates. Because it all started with that seven-a.m. breakfast. With the newspaper and the conversations between my grandparents. Sitting outside the door with a curious little girl and listening to the adults’ conversations. That girl grew up. But her curiosity remained. And perhaps it was this curiosity that led me to where I am today.