In September 2012, I began my first day of secondary school. I was excited to meet different students, see new teachers, and, above all, make new friends.
My morning was going great until I entered my new classroom and saw girls whom I knew very well because they used to bully me at primary school.
My fear of school resurfaced. All the bad memories of being bullied rushed back.
I am now 18 years old. Bullying is a topic that is very dear to my heart, so I would like to share my journey through this tough time with you.
It Starts Young
Since the age of ten, I have been a victim of bullying.
It occurred continuously for four whole years (two years in primary school and two in secondary).
The bullying started off with small groups of girls forming in my class, leaving me out. Day by day, it started to get worse.
As they entered the class, the girls had already positioned themselves in their seats. I would ask: “Who will sit next to me?” They would say: “No, we’re not sitting next to her…” to each other.
This happened almost every day. During breaks and lunchtimes, little groups were always formed, leaving me out.
I realized after a while that they didn’t want to be around me because to them I was just a “prissy, sensitive girl.”
I wasn’t someone who always spoke about boy bands, music, movies, or trash talk so that a dirty joke could form a bit of banter.
One day, one of the girls in my class decided to explain to me how my parents had me and my five siblings.
She joked, “…oh your parents have done it six times!” She told another girl to open up the dictionary and show me the meaning of this “act” while bystanders laughed.
The other girls joked, “We have now broken her innocence” as they watched my face go paler and paler.
The sad thing was that all of this took place in a mosque, where salah (prayer) was performed on a regular basis, as my school was on top of this building.
Creating Doubts in My Faith
My mum thought that she would never have to tell me about the talk so early in my childhood.
Knowing all the parents and teachers at the school, she trusted everyone there.
She never considered that by sending her daughter to an Islamic girls’ school, she could be exposed to any of this.
I was constantly in doubt and confused, as I wasn’t able to fully comprehend if this was the same religion my parents always taught me about.
Telling them what they were talking about was wrong and useless. I would also tell the teachers when I was upset, but the girls would say, “She is too sensitive and weak.”
I was a goody-two-shoes to them. Sadly, the teachers never understood what I was going through.
Eventually, it led me to feel betrayed and, to an extent, even bullied by the teachers’ comments. I was told by one teacher to “Grow up…”
I was starting to believe I was in the wrong place. I thought that there was no point in fighting anymore.
I wouldn’t be heard, instead, I would be blamed. I felt as if I was a burden to the teachers. Finally, I thought to myself,if I can’t beat them, I’ll join them.