In this piece, I had to relate my life to a song, so I picked Grace Kelly, by Mika.
It was bound to happen: the moment I snapped. Like a bull tired of being teased by the matador in a ring surrounded by crowds against it: my vision went from colour to red alone. I remember it so clearly, the day the last straw was added to the camel’s back. When I arrived in America six years ago, I was sure I had the right mindset to make friends and keep them: a feat I’d never been able to sustain before. I joined a choir, believing that people that sang in a choir would be kind and easier to get along with.
Two notes: Filtering is bad, and choir people are mouthy for a reason. “Aww! She sounds so cute!” came a chorus of reactions whenever I asked our instructor to repeat a few notes on the piano (pun intended). That was the first lance in this bull’s hide. “So like, I guess you’re a big Beatles fan?” was the second lance; I only know the songs ‘Yellow Submarine’ and ‘Twist and Shout’. The third and final was when three sopranos asked me to join them for lunch, which simply turned into a show-and-tell. “She says things really weird, it’s so cute.” “Say that thing again.” I humoured them, but after that lunch, they never invited me again.
I became ‘British’ instead of ‘Gabby’. Nobody wanted to know more about me as a person. I hated being asked questions about England, I’ve never even lived there! I grew up in the Middle East and consider myself Arabic more than anything else… something nobody ever learned about me. Forget the Beatles, I like to listen to belly-dancing music, Mosque singing and Arabic instrumentals.
When the third lance was driven into this once, passive beast, I knew then I would never go back. “Do I look like a doll with a damn string to pull at the back?!” I remember telling anyone that asked me to say ‘funny British words’. “No, -YOU- sound funny!” “Pay me first, then I’ll think about being your little side-show act!” Oh, the sass! Oh, the freedom! This bull was on a rampage, sparing nobody in its path!
“I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky, I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like. Gotta’ be green, gotta’ be mean, gotta’ be everything more. Why don’t you like me? Why don’t you like me? Why don’t you walk out the door!” These are lyrics from Grace Kelly, by Mika. It portrays the excessive change someone can go through to make them appeal to others. But when you mold yourself to try and make other people like you, and it still isn’t good enough, that’s when you cast your middle-most fingers to the sky and kiss them goodbye!