On my first day of elementary school, my mother takes me on her bicycle. As usual, I arrive too early. I walk into an empty classroom that is still strange to me, filled with rows of long wooden desks. No more colorful desks like in kindergarten here; everything's painted in plain, dull brown now.
My mom sits with me for a while. "If the teacher asks you to introduce yourself in front of the class, remember what I taught you yesterday, okay?" she whispers. I simply nod, while my eyes still wander to all my surroundings, feeling a bit unfamiliar with my new classroom.
Suddenly, a girl with a familiar triangle bob hairstyle approaches us. It really is Clara. "Hey, Billy! Looks like we're meeting here again," she greets me cheerfully. She looks so confident, entering the classroom by herself without her parents tagging along. My mom smiles, looking so relieved that I already have a friend here.
"I'll wait outside, okay? Be brave and be a smart boy," Mom says, while she pats my head. I kiss her hand out of respect before she steps away.
"Can I sit next to you?" Clara asks, pointing to the empty spot.
"Yes," I say, keeping it short.
***
At seven o'clock sharp, our new teacher rings her mini traditional bell as a sign that class is about to start. After she introduces herself and calls our names one by one, she talks about a lot of things that I don't even understand.
"So, who wants to be the class president?" she asks, signaling for us to raise our hands. I totally miss what she says here because of the loud noises around. "Please come forward and introduce yourself."
Suddenly, the noisy classroom goes silent. Not a single child raises their hand. "Come on, don't be shy. Is there anyone brave around here? Please come forward and introduce yourself," the teacher encourages us with a warm smile.
I don't understand why nobody raises their hand. If it's just introducing myself, I think I can do it exactly like my mom taught me. I want to prove to my mom and everybody else that I am a brave boy.
Sadly, I raise my hand.
The teacher looks so delighted and beckons me forward while the other kids applaud. "My name is Billy. My full name is..." I recite my birth date and address as well, exactly as my mom coached me. When I finish, the class goes quiet for a moment.
"Alright, so Billy will be your class president from now on," the teacher announces. "You all must listen to him; don't give Billy a hard time." She then starts telling me a bunch of duties and responsibilities that I have to do every day, which no one else seems to get.
I stand there for minutes being a yes man. I still have no idea what just happened. I thought this was just a regular introduction. Finally, my teacher lets me sit back down while she signals the other kids to applaud me once more.
"Wow, congrats! That was brave," Clara says, clapping. I reply with a flat smile. I sit down in a daze, my arms folded on the table, still wondering, Why did I have to raise my hand? Clara only smiles at my confused expression. Next, the teacher asks for a vice president, and Clara immediately raises her hand while hinting a smile at me.
And so, we become the class officers together. I'm just glad I won't have to face this alone, even though Clara is the one who does most of the work with far more enthusiasm than I do.
***
From that point on, I become closer to Clara. But we're not really that close. Even though we sit together every day—mainly because Clara is the one asking for it—our connection ends at the school gates. We know nothing of each other's private lives. I simply have no clue what friendship is for, while Clara is just a free spirit who is meant to get along with anyone. But still, she is the one who has known me since before I wore glasses. Back in fourth grade, she notices that I need a pair. Being nearsighted back then feels like a sin; 'coming out' to my parents about this thing is really hard to do. But then, we learn to accept it, and as the years go by, it becomes common anyway. I have worn glasses ever since, and now I wonder why we worried so much back then.
Aside from Clara, almost all my friends are girls. I don't know why talking to them is easier than with the boys. They are open to any topic, from lessons, hobbies, gossip, and cartoons, to even dreams and such foolish imaginations. Their humor is easy for me to understand.
But sometimes I wonder: do I really click with them, or do they just choose simple topics that I can keep up with? And I hope this isn't just because I'm a boy or because of my good grades. If only they knew, I'm not that smart. I get those grades simply because I'm obedient and good at memorizing the teacher's quick notes. But no one believes me anyway.
On the other hand, talking to boys is hard. They're more into "cool" topics like sports, bands, traveling, manly skills, and life experiences—any masculine things that I can never seem to master. Their humor often sounds harsh and mean to my ears, even though they're actually just kidding. It feels like there is always a wall between me and them—a wall that still remains to this day.
But that doesn't mean I can just avoid them forever. During Religious Education, I have to separate from Clara due to gender segregation and sit with the boys instead. I prefer to sit with one of the 'good boy' groups. They tend to be polite, quiet, and more open-minded. This is the safest zone I can think of rather than mingling with the 'wild boy' groups. Being handsome and neat is often one of their best features. I am always curious how they can manage all of those things without being gay like me.
Anyway, I always think I can be friends with them; like when it is just the two of us, we actually can talk about anything like I do with the girls. But as soon as they reunite with their other male friends, I can see they behave way more naturally with them. They talk about more advanced topics, laughing loosely and teasing each other. I can't even keep up with them anymore; I just become a good listener, or completely invisible. It feels as if they are just forcing themselves when they are alone with me, playing around only because they have no other option. In other words, yeah, no matter what, I still can never, ever really talk to those boys.
***
Talking about religion, back then my family is never that deeply religious. My relatives follow various faiths, while my parents practice Islam. Unlike most of my friends who are already raised in a Muslim background and are used to learning the Quran every single afternoon, I actually only know a little about my faith. I don't even know that praying five times a day is a must. Since my school grades are good, my parents assume I have it all figured out.
It isn't until the fourth grade, after reading a textbook, that I realize it really is a sin to leave a single daily prayer. I feel ashamed of myself and scared; I don't want to go to hell, too. So I start practicing my prayers every day since then. Which is also important for my exams later someday.
Unfortunately, I always get mean religion teachers at school, I don't know why. Other religion teachers seem nice and understanding, but I never get one like that. There is always punishment and shaming during the lessons. Between this and P.E., these are the two subjects that have always been at the bottom of my list. I understand my religion better through books rather than learning it with my teachers at school.
"Remember, no touching between boys and girls!" my teacher warns us every day.
"You're punished for not wearing an undershirt!" he snaps once to a boy.
"You're punished because your skirt is too short!" he barks once to a girl.
"Men and women are forbidden from looking at each other's bodies," he once declares to us.
Suddenly, a friend throws a joke, "What about man and man, Sir?"
"That is even more forbidden!" the teacher replies with an angry look.
Hearing that, all my male classmates burst into loud, mocking laughter.
"The same goes for women," the teacher adds with a little snark.
Watching everyone laugh that hard makes me think that it must be something really bad in the eyes of God. Even though I haven't realized my own feelings yet, I can't bring myself to laugh too. I can only smile a little bit, just enough to fit in.
Updated 06/14/2026
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