I left my hometown with dreams of making it big. Growing up in the Northeast, I always knew that city life would be different from my town life. I had big dreams of proving my skills, exploring new experiences, and achieving greatness. My heart raced with excitement as I bid farewell to my family and embarked on this new journey.
The new city was overwhelming. Navigating unfamiliar streets and adapting to a different lifestyle felt like a challenge every day. I thought life at university would be the start of something amazing. However, my optimism began to fade when I realized that the inclusivity I had hoped for was far from reality.
I faced bullying from day one. It wasn’t just occasional comments; it was a constant attack of racist slurs. My classmates would call me ‘cheeni,’ ‘chinki,’ ‘Chinese,’ and ‘chowmein.’ Every day, I was reminded that I didn’t belong.
The casual racism on campus was hard to ignore. During group projects, I was often left out or ignored. In the cafeteria, people would snicker as I walked by. One day, I overheard a group of students making mocking sounds and gestures as I walked past. I felt like an outsider, an alien among people who were supposed to be my peers. It wasn’t just the words that hurt; it was the looks, the exclusion from groups, and the sense of being judged.
Due to constant bullying and rejection, I started experiencing anxiety and depression. I felt worthless and alone, surrounded by people who refused to accept me. I began to isolate myself and started avoiding social gatherings. The lack of acceptance made me feel like I was fighting a battle I couldn’t win.
As the months passed, my academic performance began to suffer. I found myself avoiding lectures, not out of laziness, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of facing another day of humiliation. My grades dropped, and my sense of worthlessness grew stronger.
During this tough time, there were a few people who stood by me and made a difference. One professor, noticing my poor performance and absences, reached out with genuine concern. He took the time to understand my situation and offered me encouragement and support. His kindness was a lifeline. He also connected me with the university’s grievance cell, which was dedicated to helping students facing racism. The grievance cell provided a safe space where I could voice my concerns and receive support. Their understanding and interventions were crucial in helping me navigate the situation. Eventually, I came in contact with people who offered me a hand of friendship. Their support helped me feel less isolated and more hopeful. The combination of mutual support and understanding from those around me played a significant role in helping me regain my confidence.
Despite all the help and progress, racism didn’t disappear. Slurs and derogatory comments still come my way, but I’ve learned to deal with them. Despite the ongoing challenges, I’ve come to understand that while I can't change people's attitudes, I can control my response to them. And in that, I’ve found my strength.
~Anonymous
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