Member-only story
Finally, My Reality Is Better Than My Dreams
My past gave me nightmares.
Where was I 10 years ago?
I was 17 then. After a 14-hour-flight alone, I finally landed in London. My life was packed in a suitcase. I thought moving to a new country would give me a blank slate but, even then, I was carrying invisible baggage. How do I check it in? I guess I can’t. I just had to keep it with me all the way from Noi Bai airport to Heathrow then from Heathrow to a filthy rented room in a messy part of London.
17 years old. I remember looking at the young-looking, well-put-together woman sitting a few rows ahead of me in awe. I wanted to be her when I grew up. She was stylish and confident. Me? I had a tomboy-ish haircut, a no-shape figure (I hadn’t gone to the gym then), and nothing to show for myself. I thought the whole world hated me.
Existing feels hard when you’re so young and see no one like you around you. And, well, it’s hard when you’re a woman who’s been beaten by a patriarchal society.
I attended a private A-level school on a scholarship for the next two years where I constantly felt like the odd one out. Too geeky, too weird, never cool enough for my posh classmates. I then got into a university for a degree that didn’t have many Asians either. On the first orientation day, I sat in a corner…