I may have not been physically removed from my land, but I have a good idea of how it feels to be an exile in my own land. My exile was far worse, for I am prevented by circumstances from doing what I want.
In a nation where the young are expected to shut up when adults are talking, to not talk back when being scolded, it is no surprise that many would grow up to keep thoughts to themselves. I am such a kid: I cannot completely express my ideas; I cannot do want I desire.
I would sit at the dinner table with my family and listen to them with an exile’s ear. I cannot say anything unless I am asked to speak. My family is the conservative type. When we have meals, no one is allowed to speak, and anyone who speaks without permission will be compelled to leave the table.
My feeling of being exiled is not only happening within my home but in the community as well. Being a child of a not so sociable family, I would often notice people talking behind my back. Whispering loud enough still for me to hear, people would say the cruelest thing like ‘that’s the kid of the witch’. I have to friends. No one in the neighborhood wants to play with me because they are afraid of my parents.
In fact, I once played with a little boy just outside of our house, and my mother, upon seeing me, yelled at the boy to leave. She even grabbed the boy and pushed him away with so much force that the poor boy slumped on the ground and was so terrified. I was so ashamed that I ran into the house wishing to never go out again.
I often ask myself: how does it feel to be free? To be unbarred by one’s surround?
My family is not the only reason other children won’t play with me. I know that there are other children from well-off families who gets to play with other kids in our neighborhood. We are not even rich, and yet I don’t get to play like they do.
Have you been mistakenly judged before because of your physical appearance? I have.
I am not ugly; in fact, I can say that I look really good. I do dress differently from other kids: I am always dressed neatly because that is how my mother always wants me to be. I once asked a classmate ones why other kids don’t talk to me, and she said they were intimidated by me because I am a rich kid, and no matter how many times I tell them I am not, they do not believe me. Looking different can also make you feel exiled.
What do you think makes us free? Perhaps if I am indeed going to be exiled, then I would be free, but then again, I have realized that we don’t have to be physically removed from a place to feel exiled. Feeling alone is enough to feel the pain of being it.
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