"Guyana? What is that?"

Happy Friday lovelies,

In my first blog post, I answered a quick Q+A that gave you an idea of what you can expect to see on this site.

Today, I want to talk about alienation. More specifically, how I felt alienated growing up and how that impacted my self-identity at the time.

Growing up in Scarborough was magic. I loved the lights from all the apartments around me, I didn't ever need a night light. The lights from the apartments surrounding mine provided me with enough comfort through the night as a child. Hearing the police sirens or the buses passing by were noises I came to love and quickly associate with home. During the summer time, you could hear laughter and splashing from the neighbourhood children playing in our apartment's outdoor pool. We had a summer camp, although it was in the basement of the apartment, filled with roaches and board games from 1985 (gross, haha). Despite this, I actually really enjoyed summer camp. A lot of the kids from the building would come; we had our own little community. Being from a place as diverse as Scarborough, you meet people of all backgrounds. That's why when I left, my whole world came crashing down.

Above: My friends and I at my Birthday party in the apartment I grew up in.

In the summer of 2009, I was around 11 or 12 years old. My parents made the decision to uproot us and live in a place I had never heard of before- Stouffville. It was a big deal for them. Their first home. For myself, I was devastated. I didn't want to leave my home. How could I live anywhere else? What about my friends? What about my room? My parents would often go check on the house as it was being built, visiting more and more frequently as the day to move in came closer. I never went. I was resentful, I hated that house and I didn't even live in it yet. Little did I know, I would come to hate it a lot more when I actually got there for a variety of reasons. Eventually, the day came where it was time to say goodbye to my home. The first night, we slept on the floor because due to a mix-up, the furniture had not yet been brought to the house. We moved in during the summer, so I had a couple of months to acquaint myself to the town before I would meet any friends.

September came. One thing about living in a small town that I never got used to was the eeriness. At night, you could hear coyote's howling at the sky as the moon shone brightly on the pond behind our home. There was an old barn and a corn field surrounding the small pocket of homes, far away from the city- far away from HOME. What bothered me most was how quiet it was at times. No people, no buses, no police sirens. Just nothingness. At times, I would wonder if this was how my dad felt when he first came to Canada. How strange, I was still in the same country yet I felt thousands of miles away from where I once was. I missed Scarborough, and I wondered if my father missed his home too.

My first day of school was nerve-wracking (obviously). I wore my hair shoulder length with the most iconic bang of the early 2000's - Side Bangs. Along with my on trend hair, I wore an American Eagle plaid button up, with a tie on the waist paired with leggings and the most iconic women's shoes of 2009. UGG BOOTS.

Me, in all my 12 year old glory.

The bus ride to school was terrifying. I had my brother with me, but he was no comfort for the horror of my first school bus ride in a new town. It was on the bus ride that I realized there was no one that looked like me. As I got to the school, I noticed one very important detail. Everyone around me was white. My teachers, 99% of the students, and my principal. It was a distinct change from being in such a multi-cultural school in Markham. I didn't understand the social norms there. I didn't understand the wealth they had. Grade 7 students in Lululemon clothing and headbands were not something I was accustomed to. I felt so alone and isolated. I knew they wouldn't understand me as I wouldn't understand them. It was two different worlds colliding in the mind of a 12 year old. A lot of the girls in my grade didn't really bother to introduce themselves to me. They had all grown up in this small town together, whereas I was the outsider and it didn't help looking different either. I was too shy to approach the large groups of girls, some looking at me with confusion, studying me as if they knew I was sort of like them, but not quite. At one point in the day, a couple of girls introduced themselves to me. All of them asked where I was from.

"Where are you from?" "Scarborough".

"No, like what's your background?"

I replied, telling them I was half Guyanese and half Greek.

"Wow, so what is THAT?". A girl replied, with a look of disgust and confusion on her face.

I spent the next minute or so explaining that my father was Guyanese and that it was a country in South America, but considered to be Caribbean.

They didn't seem to care. I didn't mind that they didn't care but it made me realize two things about myself that day.

1. They didn't see me as someone like them

2. They didn't even know WHAT I was

Growing up is hard. Being a young girl, 12 is an important age. You're going through puberty, and becoming more aware of your self-identity. You find different interests, you find a pack. For me, it was different. I felt so alone. I felt like an alien. I felt like I didn't belong. I wanted to cry that day. I wanted to ask why no one knew what I was. I continued to feel like an outcast for a while until I became close to a small group of girls in my class. Most of them being minorities as well. Still, I was apprehensive. I didn't want to mention my culture again. I didn't want to bring curry for lunch, I was scared someone would tease me. I never got comfortable there. I continued to feel isolated during my two years in that town. The group of friends I did make brought a sense of comfort, but majority of the class was not welcoming, and I continued to feel like an outsider until I graduated.

I moved closer to my original home for high school.

Although these were two short years, I wish I could have been more confident in myself and my culture. It's easy to understand, not everyone will know about Guyana. Despite this, it is important to keep in mind how we react to other people. I won't forget the look on their faces and I won't forget how that initial perception of me determined how they would treat me for the remaining two years. I wasn't white enough for the white kids and that's how it always was.

I should have brought that curry to school, damn it.