“You have no friends”. Those were the words that kept ringing in my head while I was sitting alone in a 12-seater table placed in the middle of the school canteen. The only background noise I could hear were kids chattering and sharing laughs with one another. I had never felt more alone in my life at that moment. My only wish that afternoon was to teleport back home, in my bedroom, my face diving down in my pillow and think of all the flaws I could possibly have.
Growing up, I thought being bullied is a natural part of everyone’s school life. I saw it happen to others, and I witnessed it happen to me too—only more frequently. At first, it felt as if my world was about to drown in my own tears. However, as time progressed, I began to get accustomed to peers bullying me although deep down I still know that it is something unjust. From elementary to high school, I have had a number of unfortunate bullying experiences—being lied to, rumored about, socially excluded, verbally insulted and teased, and virtually made fun of—all these were nothing new to me back then. Luckily, I always had my family, especially my mom as my stronghold. It was a constant cycle of getting bullied and then getting rescued by mom, which is perhaps part of the reason why I let myself get used to being bullied. Until one day, realization hit me like a bucket of ice cold water. I shivered at the thought of “learning to stand up for myself”, as mom would put it into words.
When my family first settled in Hong Kong, I expected to face problems that would involve overcoming cultural differences. At the same time, I considered it as a new beginning to a more normal school life, with a ‘stronger’ version of myself, contrasting the ‘weaker’ version of me constantly being in the abyss of bullying and emotional slumps. Little did I know, the worst bullying encounter was about to roll on me like a giant rock. Having experienced culture shock and bullying at the same time, made it more difficult for me to stand up to my situation.
It was my first day of school as a transferee. Seeing unfamiliar faces and foreign surroundings gave me knots in my stomach. “Please line up according to your class and class number”, a teacher emphatically announced on the stage microphone. I checked my name on the list of students posted on the wall of the assembly ground, and saw that I belonged to 2C class. While I was standing in the line designated for my class section, two girls came greeting me with warm, friendly smiles, “Are you the new girl?”, and with my lack of English-speaking knowledge, I replied them with a nod.
There were in total 12 students in section 2C, including 8 boys and 4 girls. As expected from ‘the first day of school’ routine, we were asked to introduce ourselves one by one in front of the class. Majority of my classmates had already known each other for a year, so none of them paid attention to each other when speaking. When it was my turn to speak, I immediately felt all eyes were on me. I could not hear any words coming out of my lips, all I could hear was the beating of my heart. As soon as I got into my seat, I caught a glimpse of one of the girls smiling at me, which in turn, made me feel more at ease. After a few ice-breaking activities, I began to notice the unusual atmosphere of this class. There was a clear boundary between the girls and the boys. I observed that both groups barely interact with each other during the activities and break time, despite most of them having been classmates in the past year. My dad’s words rang in my head, “No matter what, honey, try your best to conform to their norms and adapt to their culture so you don’t get yourself in trouble”. That means, I was left with no choice but to accept their social norm and completely join the girls in everything; after all, parents know best. For that reason, I expected to be part of the girls’ lunch group too.
Three days after the first day was my first lunch break in school. As soon as the bell rang, I ran to the toilet to wash my hands and when I got back, I did not find the three girls in the classroom. I checked the canteen and they were not there either. I decided to get myself small snacks to quickly finish so I can immediately head back to the classroom. Five minutes before the break ends, the they entered the classroom with all smiles while goofing around each other. I saw that each of them were carrying a lunchbox.
The next day, I brought with me my own lunchbox as well. I casually asked them where we would take our lunch that day and I felt the sudden change of atmosphere—indifference and awkwardness filled the air. They all laughed after a while—laugh of mockery or laugh of sincerity? I also don’t know. The only thing I was sure of was that, the same thing happened in the next few weeks—I was always left by myself during break time and free-activity time. One day, I took the courage to experience the worst nightmare any high school student would dare not to experience—to eat alone in the school canteen, exposed to everyone with no friend beside. I tried so hard to put myself together with all the strange stares from students surrounding me. “You have no friends”. Those were the only words that kept ringing in my head while I was sitting alone in the middle of the school canteen. The only background noise I could hear were kids chattering and sharing laughs with one another. I had never felt more alone in my life at that moment. My only wish that afternoon was to teleport back home, in my bedroom, my face diving down in my pillow and just think of all the flaws I could possibly have—“Why was I being treated indifferently? Why won’t anyone want to make friends with me? Was I too timid? Was I too chattery? Was I too much of a goody-two-shoes?”. Whatever the reason was, I never understood why I was welcomed this way. I was just another ‘new girl’ in class, eager to discover new things and make new friends. I thought everyone would be warm and friendly just like two of my classmates during the first day of school. I realized not all first impressions last.
Not long after, one of the girls started picking on me. At one point she is nice, at another, she’s the opposite. I remember when she wrote nasty things about me on her desk. It was clearly about me as my name appeared more than twice. Later on, her actions got worse. Some way, somehow, she managed to persuade the rest of the girls from the class to join her in putting me down by gossiping about and insulting me. Her petty insults later turned into disheartening threats which made me feel even more afraid to speak up as I imagined her possibly doing worse things to me. I then decided to keep things to myself. I felt a roaring ember of emotional pain in my heart.
The ‘weak me’ was overpowering me again. Eventually, I let negativity overrule me emotionally, which later affected my grades and the way I behaved at home. Two days ago, I told my family I was feeling sick, the next day, I told them the same thing and another day, I told them I wanted to quit school. My family soon noticed that there’s something I wasn’t telling them. They knew me as a kid vulnerable to bullying. They had a feeling it was happening to me all over again. We all sat down and discussed the matter as a family. I felt guilty as I was aware I wasn’t the only one struggling in adjusting. There was my younger sister who needs more assistance than me, yet I took all the attention. Nevertheless, I was blessed with the most understanding and supportive family. They always made me feel that I was not alone in my battles. My mom, like the supermom that she always is, brought up the issue to my teacher and the principal personally. Although I did not feel comfortable that my bully was being scolded, I felt a heavy weight lifted off of my heart.
That day changed the track of my highschool life. I was never again bothered by my bully. The funny part was, I found a friend in her. We treated each other like friends who stuck closer than sisters—we worked together at our highest and lowest points of our school lives, we liked the same food and clothing, we both went on double-dates with our mothers and we helped each other with our personal problems. Yet, all these vanished along with my decision to completely cut off ties with her as soon as the wave of college degrees took over our lives. I thought I found a true friend in her that would prove a lifetime friendship and support to each other, only to find out that I had built this false image of a ‘true friend’ in her. At first, I felt sorry for myself as I thought it was so unfortunate of me to never learn my lesson when it comes to friendship. I was never granted the ability to see through and avoid becoming a victim of so-called friendships. I was always the one who would push away and ignore any hints of negative personalities from people and continue to trust them with my friendship. However, if it was not because of this experience, I would never realize the true essence of ‘standing up to oneself’—to never let any external influences corrode your optimistic outlook. I am happy enough to have poured my utmost in maintaining this friendship, but I learned that it is also important to be considerate with my own feelings as well. Freeing myself from the toxicity of this friendship, I would say, saved me from experiencing far greater heartache.