Guess what? I am different. Shoot me

A bit of backstory, and introductions

Let me just give you a bit of background on me. I was Nadia, then I was Nadiya, now I am Nadiyah. Confused? So am I, kinda. I was born as Nadia, I grrew up a happy child, I was surrounded by people who loved me, I was happy. I thought I was normal. I had three grandmas, two great grandmas, loads of cousins, a granddad in africa, and one who I didn't see that much. I had no problems, until primary school.

Imagine this, first day of reception, all the little girls are walking in; in shiny size 9 pumps, little summer dresses, and long blond pigtails; then me, towering over the other children, feet in size 12 shoes, not shiny and cute, dressed in a uniform for children two years my senior, with my little black afro. Yep, thats when it began, I became shy and awkward, children would ask me questions, like why isnt my hair straight? genuine childrens questions, I asked my mum, and she explained about race, as well as you can to a five year old, and told me about my african forefathers. And as I child I intepreted this as meaning I had four dads.

Over that first year in school, I discovered my talent for academics, and kindled a passion for books, I devoured any book, much to my mums embarrassment when I began quoting the pregnancy and childbirth books that littered my house due to her expecting my brother. As the years passed, I remained withdrawn with other people my age, struggling to connect with my classmates. I failed to make close friends and floated through those seven years of my life. I couldnt understand why people weren't accepting of me, why they called me names. My white family werent like that, my black family werent like that.

So I went to high school, eleven years old, with the body and mentality of a woman, when other girls were just getting periods and buying their first training bra, I was seen as the freak, they went through it at a time when their friends were experiencing the same thing, they could discuss it, I had already had to push through it alone, years before. I faced even more discrimination at that school, I was ridiculed for my hair, and felt so ashamed. I would hide out in the library, avoiding contact with everybody, but the people who were to put it kindly a tad simple.

This was intensified when a few weeks into year seven, I converted to Islam. I had been begging my parents to allow it for two years prior, as my mum's friend, a convert, had invited us to spend time at her house. I was envious of the belonging her mixed race children had. This caused more difficulty, as I was attending a Catholic school. Two other mixed race kids were at my school, A girl 3 years older than me and a boy 5 years older, and in the two years I remained there, we became a kind of family. I felt they were a kind of safety net, and can vividly remember being so down trodden and defeated after the teachers failed to act after another racist incident that a girl I was speaking to at the time, rather bravely went to go and get who she always refered to as Nadia's, not brother, but acts like it, from his group of scary sixth form friends. When they left at the end of my second year, I was heart broken, so I moved schools.

The school I chose to move to, a secular all girls school, is definately the best choice for me. In my first year there, year nine, my grades had doubled in subjects where, previously due to my insecurity in the lessons at my old school. I had a small group of friends, my own age and had chosen my GCSE options.

By the time I had moved into my second to last year, I felt settled to a degree. The first day, of lessons with people I had never met, and the nerves had returned. Walking into Biology first period, I was literally shaking. I glanced around the room, glancing at the other faces, some familiar, others new. Spying a familiar blonde head, I slunk toward the rapunzel-like figure, relief washed through me as I spotted other girls, I had spoken to prior to the opening of the year.

Little did I know the group of girls who I sat with that fateful day, would become my best friends, the sisters from other misters. Held fast by strong ties, we forged friendships as strong as stone. The four of us became inseprable. Even though, of different race, creed and disposition, we all bonded and balance one another out. Even now, in a class where certain people cause me general discomfort through their judgement, I know I can rely upon 'mis amigas'. We baffle teachers with our antics and arguments, yet how we never really fall out, and are always there for one another, regardless of the scale of the problem.

And we all accept one another, and understand each other fully. Be it my hyperactivity - the mad scientist, Her organization- the mother of the group, ones quiet reliability - the problem solver, her sportiness- the chirpy one of the lot. even though we dont sound great on paper, or screen, we seem to work in life.

Even going on to doing our Duke of Edingburgh, and nearly dying in the process, we managed to pull our selves to the end, with a series of microbreaks and a hell of a lot of arguing and help from Mike, we made it through, pretty much intact, and closer.

So now we are into the present, and I can address the issues faced, in depth. And the lessons I learnt along the journey to finding out who I am.

However, I have noticed something odd. I am crazy. Yes, its true, I am completely lost in the clouded landscape of my own subconscious. I am going to explain how I reached this conclusion.

Basically, I was adrift. Like Pi, but not at sea, I was in my own mind. And basically I found out that I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know my own favourite food for goodness sake, and I freaked out, and it came at the worst possible time. My mum was in Australia, I had mock exams, I was a hormonal PMSing bitch, going through an identity crisis, and it sucked big time. But it made me think.

I have reached the conclusion, I am nothing, but everything at the same time. This came into play when I had to fill in my ethnicity on an application form. I don't know what to tick, I had to begin a process of elimination, I am 100% sure I am not chinese, or indian, pakistani or bangladeshi, I can skip white, ignore black african and black carribean. And now the hard part, black african/ white or black carribean/ white. My dad he is black british, his family have been here for generations, yeah some of our relatives are in zimbabwe, but they are so distant, does it really count. And begin the onslaught of self interregation, I have even considered checking the 'other' box and writing 'Nadiyah Coloured'. And this stressed me out.

To further this loss of self awareness, I developed a serious craving of something, its nature so desperate but the objects identitiy remained unknown to me. I became hot and fidgety, lost focus, became indecisive and questioned all my future goals and plans. I basically became an annoying, emotional train wreck. And left my best friends to deal with it, luckily I have the best friends a girl could ask for, and they encouraged and motivated me to no end. But the deep seeded threads of insecurity were lurking, underneath the bubbly, over confident exterior, which hides a painfully shy, insecure girl, who every morning forces herself out of bed, slaps herself and pulls on her big girl panties. I have had to layer on the protective shell so thick that I feel disjointed most of the time, and occasionally cracks appear. And I have to use chocolate, icecream and kleenex as pollyfilla to paste them in again.

So basically winter sucks. My close friends and I joke that I suffer from seasonal affectional disorder, and considering my birthday is in September, everything is out for me. However the new year seems to raise a banner of new beginnings. I am due to start college in the autumn, and am travelling to Mozambique to volunteer in my families orphanage this summer.

But what I have realized most, is that, I know a lot of young girls some mixed race, some converts to islam, and others just different. And I have the insight, I have been in situations similar to them, I have undergone the internal struggle between east and west, and I have survived. Yes I still struggle, but I am learning, and that's all I can say. Even when I am forty I will still be learning, but I can offer them my experiences and hopefully ease their transitions. Because I am the girl who checks just about every box society portrays in a negative light.

But I am surviving so, this is my survival guide to life, yeah it will have the problems faced by muslim girls, mixed race girls, nerds etc. But I can only write from my own experience, so pick and choose what you need, but take heed, I refuse to edit. What you read is completly me. Like it or not.

Next chapter: Hijab

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The first chapter is up. And dedicated to one of my best friends in the world, the lovely Sian!

Hope you enjoy