I was little then, I thought that more permissiveness for the boys meant that they were better than girls. I did not understand why it was so and what I could do to change it. Therefore, at some point, I wanted to become a boy. And maybe then I could be free.
Boys loved me. They often came to my house and called me to play. I was the center of their attention all the time, they told interesting stories, taught me how to fight and defend myself and I enjoyed it.
In 1997, after the war ended, our family decided to return to their native capital. For a long time, the family was recovering financially. It was necessary to go through the same hardships of life as in the north again. New life, job search, finding a good school for the kids. Thanks to previous acquaintances, my mother managed to find an excellent job in the Government. I was placed in one of the best schools in the city. I found myself in a new environment again. In a completely different environment. I have changed, people have already changed.
The children were different in the new school. Here there were fewer restrictions. Children were more relaxed, and boys could be friends with girls. Nobody was calling me a stranger.
Boys and girls have already played love. If earlier I was a friend with the boys, and perceived them as my “buddies”, now it was impossible. Any attempt to speak and make friends with the boys was perceived by the environment as: “Do you love him? Is this your boyfriend?”
For conservative northern people, there was no concept of love for boys. But things were different in the capital. I didn't understand what "This is my boyfriend" meant. Or “We're dating". And again, I turned out to be an outsider among my own people. I could not communicate with the boys without subtext. I had no friends among girls and no friends among boys.
At the new school we were taught in Russian. And I did not know Russian at all. It was very difficult to study. A big blow to the child's psyche and pride. From a brilliant student, I turned into student with worst marks in the class.
A new student from Moscow came to our class. Short, with blue eyes and long black hair. Her name was Madi. She walked into the classroom with her head down. Our teacher introduced her to us and invited her to sit at a free desk. Madi walked around the room and the only empty chair was behind my desk. She sat down quietly and smiled at me. It was exciting. For the first time in a while, a girl smiled at me. I was wondering if we could be friends. I thought: Why did she smile? Did she like me?
We didn't talk much. Sometimes she would ask me to help her with her homework. We used to work out together during the breaks. No one talked to her in the class, or to me. I did not know why. Was it because we both were newcomers, or because she was an outsider?
One day, Madi approached me in the school and said: “We moved to Russia when I was born. It was hard for us to get along among the Russians. We were called "black ass" from Tajikistan. I had no friends in class because I had a white streak of hair”. I felt sorry for her. It seemed like we had gone through the same pain. And this got me thinking. I wanted to be friend with her and show her that a defect in her appearance does not matter. That she belongs here. She is not a stranger.
I tried to be kinder and more attentive to her than usual. I was careful in my communication so as not to offend her in word or deed. We used to spend beautiful times together. We started visiting each other. Sometimes she stayed with me overnight.
I got a girlfriend. It was a small miracle for me and my first small victory. It was always interesting to talk to her. She gave me advice on how to behave with guys and be a lady. And I wanted more such cool girlfriends. I remembered a case when one boy from another class was waiting for me in front of the school with flowers. It was on March 8, International Women Day. Madi saw him from the window.
Madi: I think someone is waiting for you outside.
Me: Who? Oh, my God! Why is he with flowers? I am not going out. Please, go tell him, that I am no at school today.
Madi: Calm down. It’s just flowers. Let boys take care of you. Enjoy.
Me: No. I cannot. What will I tell him? Thank you for the flowers. Now, bye. Do I need to go home? How would my neighborhood react? They will tell my mom everything.
Madi: Come on. Don’t panic. I understand it’s your first experience. Just go there, smile, take the flowers. Let him lead the conversation. Listen to what he says. If he wants to walk you home, let him do it. Accepting flowers doesn't obligate you to anything else. And if he takes you home, it doesn’t mean anything bad. It’s just a friend. Go!
Years passed. We were already in 7th grade. Every day while doing homework, I cried because I didn’t succeed.
