From Pre-K to 5th grade, my mother would clench my small fingers with her rough ones on the way to school. A lack of parental supervision for 6 full hours inspired her urgency to warn me of all the evil that could corrupt me if I allowed it to. Every morning was a new demand: “don’t talk to boys” because I would grow up to commit “sinful acts”, “don’t talk about our life at home” because I shouldn’t air our dirty laundry to the world, etc. She urged me to be conscious of what I said to others, not in terms of being sensitive to others’ experiences, but rather what she perceived to be the proper etiquette for a young Muslim girl going to school in the dangerous and influential America.

[Insert my mother’s intentions and experiences and why she asked me to be so reserved when I spoke.] I’ve witnessed my mother get really terrible treatment because of her accent and even though I didn’t share her accent, I subconsciously understood the depth of her fear when speaking and internalized it.

For the first few years of my education, although I resented being super shy, I felt a quiet relief because I felt I was unable to say something wrong or embarrass myself if I barely spoke. However, after years of staying quiet, I found myself unable to speak up at all. I wanted to please others around me by not being a bother—by not sharing my experiences or opinions even when I felt I had something to say. When I was made fun of, I would stay quiet and take it. My teachers would yell at me to speak up during presentations and even then, I could barely choke out an apology. It was bad enough that I would get a mixture of 3s and 4s on my report card but always get a 1 or 2 for participation.

[Explain how I attached this criticism to my fear of speaking. The more I was told to speak, the further I’d retreat.] Whenever I did speak (a question directed at me or being randomly chosen to answer a question), people would make it such a big deal that I would even open my mouth. Looking back it was comical how they’d zoom in and tease me because they barely heard my voice. It wasn’t always from malicious intent, but the intense anxiety I got whenever I had to speak even a word became way too overwhelming for me.

As I reached my later years of elementary, I was so fed up with myself. I was using my anxiety, shyness, and fear of using my voice, to stop me from doing things to be able to enjoy myself like making friends and not crumbling in front of a classroom when it was my turn to speak. My lack of language skills was greatly hindering my social capability.

Before starting middle school, I decided it was time for me to help myself and start by raising my hand to ask questions. I took the time to get to know those around me instead of staying stuck in my bubble and realized that I didn’t need to be so afraid of sounding stupid or sharing my experiences even if they weren’t cool or perfect. It was the first time I felt the freedom of being able to speak without consciously or subconsciously suppressing myself.