I’m 13 years old and I’ve just said goodbye to my parents
after they've dropped me off at the University
of Iowa dorms for summer sleep-away genetics camp.
I am so excited.
I'm going to stay up late
talking to my roommate, hang with friends whenever I want to.
Plus, we're going to learn about mitosis
and meiosis and Mendel and mutations and how can this possibly not go well?
When I get back up to my roommate, Megan has just moved in,
and the first thing she says to me is, “I knew we were going to be friends
from the moment I saw the clothes hang in your closet.”
That's a little odd, but at least she likes me.
And that first day, a small crew of girls forms around
Megan and me, and I'm so excited, I've already made my friends.
The first week of camp is a paradise of biology.
We make 3D models of the double helix
structure of DNA, lining up those A’s and T’s and C’s and G’s.
We transcribe
DNA sequences into RNA and translate that into amino acids and protein structures.
I feel like we've been given the secret code of life, which we have.
I geek
out over Punnett square problem sets and mapping pedigrees, shading
those circles and squares to show how a disease is transmitted through a family.
Classic summer camp activities.
It's the best.
I have to admit, though, I'm getting some weird vibes from my new friends.
Every morning as we walk through the university quad on the way to class,
Heather makes fun of my hair and teases me about the keychains on my backpack.
Tory scribbles on my homework and crumples it up.
Megan starts borrowing my stuff without asking, and I find notes on my
desk written in my eyeliner that say, “I'm wearing your sandals today.”
But it's okay.
I know how to deal with people like this.
13 years growing up as a Chinese American girl in Iowa
have taught me how to fit in as an interloper.
Be super nice, erase my own personality, go with the flow.
It's never failed me before, and surely it's not going to fail me
at nerd camp, where by definition, no one here is too cool for school.
So, I
keep trying to be as agreeable and accommodating as possible.
At the end of the first week of camp, we're playing a game in class
that requires other people to help us solve our mystery genotypes.
This involves passing slips of paper to our friends with questions on them.
Like, if I had a kid with someone who has attached
earlobes, is it possible that our kids could have attached earlobes, too?
And if the answer is no, then I know that I'm homozygous
for the autosomal dominant trait of having detached earlobes.
Super simple.
But during the game, my friends,
instead of passing back real answers to me on the slips of paper.
They write, “Why are you so ugly?
And you’re stupid” At the end of the game,
I'm the only one who hasn't been able to figure out my genotype.
As the classroom empties out,
I sit in my chair and I rack my brain trying to think of what I've done
to offend Megan and Tory and Heather and the others.
And I really can't think of anything.
But I hope that maybe this is just some weird hazing ritual.
Maybe if I weather anything that they throw at me, they'll finally accept me.
So, I trail along behind them to the cafeteria.
We set our trays down at the same table where we always sit,
and the other girls pass around a look.
Megan says, “I have a story to tell.
Last summer at camp and there was this girl who no one liked,
and she kept trying to hang out with us, and we didn't know how to get rid of her.”
Heat floods my face.
Thus far, I have refused to read the signals
that these girls have been sending me because I'm under the mistaken impression
that ignoring meanness in other people is the nice thing to do
and will make it go away.
But now Megan here has told such an obvious parable
that she's basically forcing me to read between the lines.
I know she's talking about me.
I know I'm not wanted.
I get up
quickly, but my tray without having to walk back to my room.
But I can't even take refuge there because soon Megan and the other girls
go back there to hang out.
And I don't want them to see me crying.
But I have a new problem.
Tonight is the friday night dance
and the last thing I want to do is go to a dance without any friends.
So, I asked the camp counselor if I can just stay in my room and read a book,
but she says no.
So I go out on the hall.
New plan.
Asked a random girl if I can use her dorm room phone.
I unspool the cord as long as it can go to try to get some privacy,
and I call my mom and I say, “Mom, please come pick me up.
I am done with camp.” Because, you see, I live ten minutes away.
I live in Iowa City, where camp occurs.
There is no reason for me to stay in this place for another week,
but my mom says, “No.” So, my last plan is just to hide in the corner
of this girl's room and try not to cry until the time of the dance.
I shuffle off to the dance alone.
In the dorm basement, 90s tunes are pumping.
Wannabe by the Spice Girls, Everybody by Backstreet Boys.
In my normal life, I'm too self-conscious to really be much of a dancer.
But tonight, I'm like, “What the heck?
I don't know anybody here who I care about, why not let loose?”
Because these girls rejection of me, yeah, it's kind of broken me
but it's also freed me
because why contort myself into something else
when it's not going to make people like me.
Why not just be myself?
So, I let the music take over and I dance.
I get pulled into this big dance circle and everyone around me is smiling
and I'm feeling the beat. And soon I'm smiling too.
When the camp counselor
taps me on the shoulder and says, “Hey, your mom's here.” I'm like, “What?
Why is my mom here?”
And then I remember that a few hours ago I was bawling and asking to go home.
I end up staying at camp.
I do learn very cool stuff about mitosis and meiosis and mutations and Mendel.
And I make new friends who are nice, normal people.
But I never forget that there really are mean people in this world.
And you can't always win them over with kindness.
But you don't have to let them crush your spirit.
Thank you.