Hate Is Such a Strong Word...

by Sarah Ayoub

  ‘Yeah, miss, but with all due respect, you don’t know what it’s like to wake up every few days and see your nationality blamed for half the street crime in New South Wales,’ he argues. ‘And even when you protest about it, nobody cares and nobody listens. At least in a school like this one, we’re in a safe haven where we all belong.’ He looks at Shehadie and quickly adds, ‘Oh, sorry, almost all of us.’

  ‘Mr Malouf, if you’re insinuating that Mr Goldsmith is somehow less entitled to an education at this school because he has a slightly different background to you, then you’re not the type of student we want here. You might want to reflect on some of the things you sing about in the school anthem on Monday mornings, or some of the Christian values of love and charity the priests talk about at Mass.’

  ‘Miss, Zayden never sings in assembly anyway,’ pipes up David Ishak.

  ‘That’s because he’s always late,’ Jordan Rahme calls out.

  A bunch of students start laughing.

  ‘Settle down, everyone,’ Mrs Cafree admonishes. ‘And get into your groups, please.’

  I find myself on the affirmative side with Shehadie. Our group leader, Amanda Karam, is a nice girl who’s extremely quiet. She tells us that while she’s happy to lead, she doesn’t want to be a speaker. After nominating three speakers, she fishes around the group for one more.

  ‘What about you, Sophie?’ she asks.

  Everyone looks at me.

  ‘Uhh, I don’t think so,’ I say.

  ‘Why not?’ she says. ‘You’re smart, I bet you’d have some insightful things to say.’

  ‘Nah, really, I’m not confident enough. It’s not my thing.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, you can contribute to the arguments and the research then, which we’ll probably need by end of day tomorrow. The debate’s going to be on Friday, so I’d like at least two days to prepare.’

  ‘Okay, sounds good,’ I say, relieved.

  ‘So what are your arguments?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah, Soph,’ Shehadie echoes. ‘What are you going to argue?’

  Shite, this is awkward. How can I say what I want to say without calling my community out for being ignorant? How can I say that we need to open up to others if we want others to be open to us? That we need to be more accepting, without suggesting we compromise our strong cultural identity?

  Everyone is looking at me again.

  ‘Um, I’m not exactly sure yet. I’ll have to think about it,’ I say.

  Lisa Nicolas, who is sitting next to Shehadie, smirks at me. ‘What is there to think about?’ she says. ‘It’s fairly straightforward. You either agree or disagree.’

  ‘I thought you wanted arguments,’ I try to defend myself. ‘So I want to think of some.’

  ‘It’s not that hard to come up with a point of view,’ she says. ‘I personally think that opening the school to a variety of students will make things more exciting.’ She looks at Shehadie and smiles. ‘After all, it’s not like we’re all unhappy with our test case.’

  ‘Way to make him sound like a science experiment, Lisa,’ someone says. I don’t know who, because Shehadie is staring at me and my cheeks are so hot I feel like I’m burning up.

  ‘Okay, come on, guys, let’s focus,’ Amanda says. ‘So, Sophie, arguments?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say, exasperated. ‘I can’t think of anything on the spot.’

  ‘Okay, forget it,’ Amanda says. ‘Anyone else have something we can work with?’

  A flurry of suggestions follows and Amanda writes them down. I avoid everyone’s gaze as much as I can, especially Shehadie’s.

  When class is over and I’m walking out, I hear Dora tell Vanessa that she can’t wait for Friday.

  Zayden winks at me. ‘Interesting lesson, ay, Soph? Say hi to your brother, will you.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ I say, but he doesn’t hang around for my response.

  When I get home and pull out my school diary, a little piece of paper falls out. It’s a note, written in Shehadie’s messy handwriting.

  Eleanor Roosevelt once said that no one can feel invisible without their consent.

  Kurt Cobain once said he’d rather be disliked for who he is than loved and respected for who he’s not.

  Sophie Kazzi once said that she hated feeling invisible, but when the time came for her to step up in defence of someone who thought of her as a friend, she couldn’t follow through. She chose instead to be liked for who she isn’t, instead of who she is – a girl who’s smarter and has more decency and sense than all the rest of them put together.

  So Shehadie Goldsmith wants to know: why do you let them scare you so much, Soph?

  Did I mention how much I hate him getting inside my head?

  17

  I hate that finding my place means listening to my conscience

  ‘That’s it?’ I say when my team and I meet on the morning of the debate to go over our speaking order. ‘Those are our arguments?’

  ‘Well, it’s not like you volunteered anything,’ Lisa points out.

  ‘I didn’t have any good ideas. I didn’t think we’d be going with arguments as generic as “other cultural backgrounds are going to broaden our horizons” without explaining how or why that’s even good.’

  ‘So we should scrap them?’ Amanda Karam asks me, looking frustrated.

  ‘No,’ I say, sighing. This is my fault after all. ‘We just need to elaborate on them.’

  ‘With what? The debate’s after lunch,’ she says.

  ‘So? I’ll skip Maths and go to the library to write something up. Let’s hope to God I can deliver it okay.’

  ‘Since when did you skip classes?’ Lisa asks.

  ‘Since now,’ I say, exasperated. ‘This is essential.’

  ‘So you’re going to be fourth speaker now?’ Lisa says, raising her eyebrows. ‘What about Shehadie?’

  Shehadie puts his hands up. ‘Hey, I never wanted to be fourth speaker to begin with. I’ll probably be shot dead by Zayden the minute I open my mouth. By all means, let’s hear what Ms Kazzi has to say.’

  I glare at him just as the bell rings for morning assembly.

  ‘Okay then, guys,’ Amanda says. ‘I guess I’ll see you all in Society and Culture. Please bring loud voices and optimistic attitudes.’

  By the time the bell rings to signal the end of lunch, I’m so nervous I could throw up. I wish I’d never volunteered to be a speaker. When did I get so high and mighty with my opinions that I thought it okay to share them with an audience – especially one that’s likely to be hostile?

  I walk into the classroom to see Mrs Cafree sitting at the front, with four chairs on either side of her desk, facing the audience. I’m suddenly filled with dread when I see Zayden sitting in the opposite side’s fourth speaker chair. Why do I have to go up against him?

  When it’s finally my turn to speak, I think of all the times I’ve been upset because of the way my community has been portrayed in the media. I think of how nice it would be to approach someone without worrying if they have a preconceived idea about me based on my looks, my surname or the suburb I live in. I think of acceptance, and what it can do for people’s self-esteem, their growth and experience. I think of my parents, who want nothing but the best for others but still choose to socialise with their own kind. I think of how we’re growing up in darkness, but complain because people choose to stay in the dark about us.

  And I take a deep breath and say out loud what I’ve been thinking for a very long time.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen of Year Twelve, Mrs Cafree, my fellow debaters. The negative side’s fourth speaker stated that keeping our school monocultural will keep our world functioning the way that it’s supposed to. But I stand here before you to counter this argument, which is steeped in the ignorance we profess to be victimised by.

  ‘Although our school has sheltered us from the racism that stems from the misrepresentation of our community – something that’s been ongoing since the gang crime in sout
h-western Sydney in the late 1990s – recent events have reminded us that ignorance of our customs and heritage is still widespread. If we go with the suggestion of our fourth speaker, that is, if we keep the world running the way he claims it’s supposed to, people will continue to know nothing about us, they will continue to claim that we do not belong here because we are different.

  ‘We’ll get nowhere if we stay wrapped up in our cultural cocoon, because the ignorance will remain. Keeping our school closed off from the wider world belies the fact that Australian society is a melting pot of cultures. It keeps us in an enclave, and as long as we stay in that enclave others will continue to stereotype us.

  ‘Hopefully, by the time we get to uni or college or TAFE or wherever, we can change that. We can go out into the world to say that we’re different. But why wait till then, when we can change it now? And what better way to change it than on our own turf? Today’s debate topic came out of a school fight between two boys from, for argument’s sake, different cultural backgrounds. Against the backdrop of events such as the Cronulla riots and the recent Brighton Brawl, this schoolyard fight says a lot about our social attitudes.

  ‘Today’s debate is about a lot more than changing our school. When we consider the bigger picture, this argument goes to the heart of acceptance, hospitality and compassion. Our parents and grandparents left everything they’d ever known to create better lives for us. They left a country where they belonged, and made long and difficult journeys to come here, knowing that they’d be the “other”. This wonderful country didn’t turn them away. It opened up its homes, its hospitals, its neighbourhood communities for them. It gave them special schools to help them keep a little part of their heritage in their lives; it provided government benefits for those who are parents, or students, or elderly, or looking for work. Its justice system aims to be fair, and everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

  ‘None of these things were available where our parents came from … and all of these things were instituted by the “Skips” that some of us here wish to exclude. If someone doesn’t want to be a part of this wonderful country with its offer of a second chance, they are more than welcome to leave. The question is, would they actually want to?

  ‘Our school dynamics have already changed – we have a student here who forces us to put into practice what we ourselves expect from the wider community. This is our chance to give back the hospitality that has been extended to us, in the hope that one day a future generation may call it a blessing too.

  ‘What is this situation if not an opportunity to grow, learn and prosper? Difference can make us stronger; we just have to be strong enough to accept it.’

  I’m too scared to look up when I finish, but then I hear the applause and let out a sigh of relief. Mrs Cafree congratulates me on a job well done, and a few people come up to say that I’ve opened their eyes, which is nice, because in reality we all know that our school isn’t likely to change.

  ‘Sometimes when you talk you’re nice to listen to,’ a voice says behind me.

  I turn around to face Shehadie. ‘I’m always nice to listen to,’ I counter.

  ‘Okay then, you were especially nice to listen to today.’

  ‘I meant what I said,’ I tell him, searching his face for a clue as to what he really thinks. ‘And I’m sorry for letting you down. It takes practice … this speaking up.’

  ‘Personally, I’m a big fan of the saying that actions speak louder than words,’ he says. ‘It would’ve been nice to have a few people come to my defence when I was being taunted in the quad. But you have a wonderful way with words, and I guess they’re worth listening to.’

  ‘Thanks, Shehadie,’ I say but he’s already walking away.

  On my way to History, I’m accosted by Zayden.

  ‘Really, Sophie, you believe all that stuff?’ he says. ‘I thought you were a good Lebanese girl.’

  ‘You know what, Zayden, I am,’ I retort. ‘Especially because I don’t go around bragging that I’m proud of my heritage while doing nothing to promote what our heritage is really about.’

  ‘Well, at least your brother’s on side,’ he says, shaking his head and walking away. ‘He knows what’s good for him.’

  I watch him leave, mulling over his words. If what Zayden said is true, then battle lines are in place – not just at school but at home as well – and I’m not sure how ready I am for the fight.

  18

  I hate that I’ve become paranoid about my friendships falling apart

  ‘I’m depressed,’ I announce to Sue, as I flop down next to her at our lunch spot on Thursday afternoon. ‘I have no idea what relevance Albert Speer has to World War II, which means I’m going to fail History. Plus, my aunty has something weird going on that she’s not telling me about, and I’m bummed about it because we’ve always been close. I really don’t need someone else abandoning me at this stage of my life. I mean, I’m a friendless girl with braces, glasses, frizzy hair, a Stone Age dad and no date to the formal. I need a life transplant, or at least a girly movie night.’

  Sue takes a bite of her apple and looks at me sternly. ‘Sophie, if you say you’re friendless one more time, I’m going to take offence. What are we – the half-time entertainment between your old life and whatever new one you’re waiting for? Just accept that we’re your friends now and deal with it. Your life’s not going to get much better, trust me. I have an intuition about these things.’

  ‘Ahh, where have you been all my life?’ I say, putting my arms around her. ‘You’re just the reality check I need right now.’

  ‘Okay, since we’re talking reality checks,’ she says, shooting a cheeky glance at Nicole, ‘when are you going to admit you have a crush on Shehadie?’

  ‘Say what now?’ I ask.

  ‘Shehadie. You have a crush on him. I can practically see the butterflies in your stomach every time he walks into the room.’

  I start to protest, but Sue gives me a look that’s a cross between you-should-know-better-than-to-argue and I-wasn’t-born-yesterday. I blush and smile.

  ‘That’s not a conversation for the quad,’ I say. ‘And that’s all I’m saying unless there’s movies and junk food involved.’

  Nicole leans over me to Sue and whispers loudly, ‘I think she wants to get together one night and you’re not getting the hint.’

  ‘Oh!’ Sue says. ‘How delayed am I! Sorry, Soph, it’s because you lost me at Albert Speer and life transplants and such … But that’s a great idea! We haven’t had a movie or coffee night since you joined the group.’

  I cross my arms and feign anger. ‘You bitches have been trying to avoid hanging out with me for weeks now, but you can’t avoid me anymore.’

  ‘She’s all over us like a bad smell,’ Thomas says, sauntering over to join us.

  ‘Ohhh, how exciting!’ Nicole claps her hands, ignoring him. ‘Let’s make it a sleepover.’

  ‘Are you guys kidding?’ I exclaim. ‘My dad’s of the old world! The only time I’ll be allowed to sleep outside our house is when I get married, and I reckon even that’s open to speculation. Sorry, but it’s gonna have to be a regular night with an 11 pm curfew or something.’

  ‘What?’ the girls ask in unison. ‘You’ve never had a sleepover before?’

  ‘Dad thinks I’ll get raped if I’m not sleeping under his roof,’ I say slowly. ‘Or worse, that no one will marry me. Don’t all wog parents think like that?’

  ‘Only the old-fashioned ones,’ Thomas says. ‘Oh, there’s Mrs Rivera! Sorry, guys, I need to go ask her to put up my English grade because I put a lot of effort into my assignment.’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ Sue says. ‘You started it three hours before it was due and wagged Maths and Senior Science to finish it. And you only had one extra source instead of two.’

  ‘Yeah, but she doesn’t know that, does she? What she does know … no, wait, what she’ll soon know is that my grandma’s really sick in hospital and I’m distraught because she’s
my favourite relative. I’ve lost focus on all things that matter in my life, especially my studies.’

  ‘I don’t know how he gets away with it,’ I say, pulling out my sandwiches. ‘Oh gosh, mortadella again? Eeek.’

  ‘Okay, back to the girly night,’ Nicole says. ‘How’s tomorrow night? Should we tell the boys? Or is it strictly a female affair?’

  ‘I can’t do tomorrow night!’ I whinge. ‘Friday nights we have family dinners. Can you guys do Saturday?’

  ‘Yep,’ they reply in unison.

  ‘I’m sensing we need to get to the bottom of this Sophie character, Nic,’ Sue says, tapping her chin. ‘We’ll need all the girl power that we can muster. Girly films, music, popcorn, marshmallows and manicures.’ She counts them off on her fingers.

  ‘Ooooh,’ I say happily. ‘Sounds like the ultimate female affair. I’m VERY excited.’

  The ultimate female affair ends up being crashed by Thomas and Jacob, who turn up at Sue’s house about half an hour before I do and pretend like they had no idea what was planned for the evening.

  ‘I couldn’t get them to leave,’ Sue explains as I wave to Dad from her front door so he can establish that a girl has answered and that she looks about my age. ‘Thomas even brought some chick flicks. This night’s going to be a lot more exciting than you may have planned, my dear.’

  ‘Sounds fab,’ I say. ‘After all, I need it.’

  Three and a half hours later, I’m lying on Sue’s living room floor eating raspberry twists. Thomas is sitting on the couch, Nicole is half-asleep with her head in his lap, and Sue is sitting on the floor with her knees pulled up in front of her.

  ‘Okay, Soph,’ she says, ‘you’ve managed to avoid telling us for long enough. So … what’s going on with you and Shehadie?’

  I become fascinated with a spot on the carpet. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re just friends.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ scoffs Thomas. ‘You’ve suddenly started speaking up in his defence, you twirl your hair in this pathetic little way when you talk to him, and last week I could’ve sworn that you purposely wore a black bra under a white shirt and put fake tan on your legs and then put them on the desk in front of him.’