18/07/2024
ANONYMOUS TESTIMONY #23:
PROMPT 1: Please share your experiences with us here
“A significant reason I am deciding to share my experience is that I am angered and disappointed to see the recency of some of these testimonies, the consistencies in the themes, and the overlap with my own experiences and the perpetrators (mainly Sajjad) involved. It is deeply concerning that this individual continues to psychologically abuse children generationally, across over a decade. This is a serious public health concern.
When I was 17 years old, I started dating one of my friends, who, for anonymity, I'm going to call BobuGobu. Me: I was a pretty nerdy and straight edge as a kid, usually had ""all A's"" and that kinda s**t, I had an older sister who had also attended Sunbeams, and my mother/grandfather were well-known figures in Bangladeshi culture. The combination of these three elements translated into the fact that most teachers at Sunbeams knew me because of my mother/grandfather and sister, and adored me because of my grades and geeky personality. The boyfriend: He was a classmate who happened to be the son of an incredibly famous Bangladeshi cultural and literary figure as well as the ""little-too-recent"" ex-boyfriend of a very close friend. The significance of the first characteristic is that all school administrators and teachers knew my boyfriend and some, like Sajjad (usually female teachers) would deeply enjoy fawning over him, treating him preferentially, and in plain Bangla terms engaging in blatant chamchagiri. The significance of the second characteristic is that I was ostracized by the majority of my peers and friends at the time, in a lot of ways, rightfully so, for being a teenager who who has the capacity to hurt a friend's sentiments like that (it had tormented and deeply saddened 17-year-old me to do that). This second characteristic is significant in setting the tone of my story because I was also simultaneously ostracized by my own family during this time. You know for being a ""maagi"", ""[ex-boyfriend]'s kutta/chakor"", ""bessha'r thekeo kharap"", someone who wants to be “passed around between boys”, and other such unamusing slurs. The sum of these conditions meant that I had no social or familial support at the time and was in fact managing pervasive gendered crises at home and gendered social anxiety at school over the course of the time that I also experienced severe administrative (i.e., societal) harassment from those adults whose professions are supposed to be built on the pillars of protecting, nurturing, advancing, and cultivating the healthy growth and development of children through education.
Once I started dating BobuGobu, the quality of my relationship with my entire school sharply declined and my last two years of my time at Sunbeams became very traumatized, destabilizing, and not in any way conducive to learning or thriving. I dreaded going to school and was constantly in survival mode. I will try to recall and list some of the key experiences that I can still remember, after 16 years:
1. On Parent's Day, my mother and I were instructed to see the Principal (Mrs Manzur) after we were done with other teachers that day. When we went to see Sajjad, Sajjad had me step out while she spoke to my mother. She tried to convince my mother that I am “after” BobuGobu, punctuated by gushing praises for BobuGobu (“He is such a brilliant boy, he has so much potential, he could be achieving so much more if he didn’t have these distractions.”) and going so far as to make up a story about how this one time she was going down the hallway during breaktime and as she was passing by our classroom, she saw me sitting on the floor by BobuGobu’s feet while BobuGobu was writing at his desk. None of this of course ever happened, which is why she made me leave the room before putting this image in Maa’s head. She made my Maa cry that day.
2. When we went to see Manzur, I received an earful from Manzur about how I’m ruining my family’s reputation, ruining my sister’s legacy, ruining my grades and prospects, and ruining my societal status. Those are a lot of heavy, burdensome allegations on a 17-year old girl. The only one that was true was that my grades were in fact suffering, but it was suffering because my worldview and mental health were suffering because of administrations' transgressions and what I needed was support services, love, care, and help, not shaming and frightening hate. One line from the late Mrs. Manzur that has stayed with me from that meeting is “Unfortunately, at the end of the day, society is going to point its finger at you, not him, they will blame you, not him. It is your responsibility to live with respect.”
3. Mrs Kabir yelling and screaming (she was well-known for her anger management issues and sheer volume) at BobuGobu and me (mostly me) as we sat beside each other on the school bus and telling us to sit separately. We were not the only mixed-gender students sitting beside each other. I know of at least one other couple that this happened to that day. After that day, they installed a new rule that the bus seats are going to be gender-separated like a freaking madrasa.
4. Mrs Manzur passing by our classroom during breaktime and finding that BobuGobu and I are the only ones in the room. I was sitting at the first seat from the right of the first row of desks. He was at the first seat from the left of the last row of desks - literally at the two extremes of the diagonal of the room and the farthest points of the room physically possible. She screamed at us both and called us shameless. I don’t remember the specifics anymore, other than that it was a blur of a very stressful few seconds that escalated with no beginning or end and I feel like I blacked out or dissociated during the screaming. I remember I was working. I was literally being a little dork and working through the break and I had to pick up my belongings and leave my own classroom.
5. The only reason I did not apply to UWC/ISD/AISD (I don’t remember which one it was - I remember our school had some transfer process or something like that for one or all of these, and I’m conflating them right now) is because of Sajjad. I knew she wouldn’t vouch for me. As well, the application process was already elitist and nepotistic. Only those students Sajjad loved any given year were even invited to apply. So even without the personal bias Sajjad had against me for being in a relationship with the teenage boy she was a fangirl of and was in love with, it anyway already felt useless and hopeless for students like myself who were not already on Santa Sajjad's Non-Naughty List. It’s a real shame that our school, being one of the most expensive schools in the country, actively deprived students of opportunities and resources that our parents paid for us to be part of.
6. Sajjad was our college app coordinator (from other anonymous posts, it sounds like she still is), and I had to partially rely on her to get into college. She served as one of the required recommenders. I had been calling, texting, and emailing her to go pick up my recommendation letters. Some of the times she didn’t respond, some of the times she responded curtly and said she doesn’t have time, some of the times she would give me a time and then reschedule. Around one of the last times that I attempted communication, another friend of mine was also trying to coordinate with her at the same time for the same purpose. She immediately got scheduled. Because I wasn’t hearing back and at that point my college app deadlines were approaching, I decided to go with my friend at the same time as her, as that was a definitive way of at least seeing Sajjad and talking in person. I remember that day, walking down the hallway towards her office, seeing her look up from her desk of papers, seeing her see that it was me, noticing her face that was relaxed a second ago harden into a solid, angry frown and abruptly returning her gaze back to her papers. I remember her laughter and ease with my friend moments ago, smiling, patting her arm, giving her words of affirmation, generally being kind and celebrating her, wishing her the best. I remember the lump in my throat as I approached Sajjad and called out to her, I waited by the door. She ignored me. I waited and called again. She said to come back later. My letters were there, I noticed. My name was on the envelopes. The envelopes were sealed and closed. I told her why I’m there. She said she’s busy and can’t talk. I told her my deadlines were approaching and if she knows when the letters will be ready. She said not now. I said okay, when should I come back. She looked up and looking straight into my eyes told me to leave. Something in my body changed. I did not respond and continued returning her look. She started screaming. She screamed louder than I, or perhaps anyone, has ever heard her scream. I had never been screamed at by anyone (other than my family) like that before that day. I don’t know how long it went on for. All feeling left my body, and I kept staring her down while she kept screaming at me to get out. The more unmoving and deadpan I remained, the more vicious her face got, the more savage her scream became, working herself into a hysteria, outraged at what she perceived to be an affront against her. I could tell the entire hallway of classrooms behind me and everyone in it could hear her. All teachers, all students on that side of the floor. I can’t remember another time before that day that I felt the weight and crippling dysphoria of public humiliation that I felt in that moment. Once Sajjad started succumbing to her own hyperventilation and stopped screaming to breathe, I smiled at her and said okay and left. As I was walking back down the hallway, I noticed Nusrat Miss had stepped out of her own class that she was teaching and was standing by the door. She looked sad, like her face was shaped into an expression of ""ahare"" and she looked like she wanted to hug me. She said “I’m sorry, [my name]. Are you okay?”. That was the first time in two years that I felt treated like a human being by another adult. It was too late. She was one of the ones that liked me, but as I looked at dear Nusrat Miss she like an old memory from another time and another world I was no longer part of. I nodded and said yes and walked out of the school that I finally accepted was longer mine and never looked back at. I did not belong.
Sunbeams was my second home my entire childhood since I was 4 years old to 19 years old. As such it was well-poised to have a significant impact on my child-psyche. I had a decent, fun time growing up with Sunbeams except these last two years at the school, the intensity of which had the incredible power to completely overwrite all 14 years' experience before that. To reiterate, these administrative incidents were happening against a backdrop of hostile, sexualized, misogynistic harassment from some of my peers that I continued experiencing due to continued interpersonal conflicts related to my relationship, while being in a mutually abusive and unsafe relationship, while being in a very volatile, destructive home environment with heightened monitoring, heightened gender-shaming, and heightened dysfunction in a family that was already incredibly dysfunctional with wild and chaotic screaming, weaponizing nasty language, with one of my parents intermittently either threatening su***de or claiming I’m literally killing them with my shameful and selfish behaviors that are not reflective of our “culture”. Apparently our culture is to scream, shame, call women and children wh**es and s***s, and traumatize everyone whose lives we ever touch by being mean, classist, sexist, insecure, bitter, and hateful, and most importantly not have a boyfriend. In my experience and perception, while I was being dehuaminized by school administration and family, BobuGobu continued to be celebrated, loved, protected, and most importantly treated like a student by school admin. His family liked me and was very loving towards me. To my understanding, they didn't f**k with him for being with me like my family utterly and horrendously f**ked with me. In those two years, I was never treated like I mattered, my experiences matter, my heart matters, my education matters. In Sajjad’s words, I was a “distraction” to another student, as if I was not one myself.
This was my first-ever relationship. I will leave it to you all to determine how this collective experience and the prominent role higher administration at Sunbeams, the institution and society I had been part of all my life until then, played, impacted my formative years, and what textbook outcomes there can be for an adolescent's / young adult’s psyche / life borne out of such events. Seeing the frequency with which Sajjad’s name came up in these testimonies, I would urge those in Dhaka who have been similarly affected by her to get together and explore legal routes of removing her from her position. Sajjad’s position plays a critical role in all Sunbeams students’ lives and she has thoroughly demonstrated that she is not fit to serve. I am willing and able to make myself available for collaboration or at least serve as a resource to anyone wanting to navigate this course of action."
PROMPT 2: If you're comfortable sharing, What years did you attend Sunbeams?
“1995-2010”
PROMPT 3: Do you have a message for your abusers? please share below
“Sajjad: If this ever reaches you, it will likely and hopefully be very clear to you who I am. I have no qualms about sharing my identity. The only reason I am choosing to be anonymous is to respect my cohort's privacy. It has not gone unnoticed to me that you have reached out with warm and cordial messages to me now and then in my adulthood. I believe the only reason you have done that is that my vocational success makes you want to be on my good side and validate me as the human being you did not when I was a young girl, vulnerable and dependent on you to not f**k up my college prospects. This is also in line with your tendency of pandering to those you perceive as worth human respect based on “social status”. Thank you for not f**king up my college prospects and doing the bare minimum of speaking accurately to my abilities and achievements back then. I do not hold any grudges against you and only pity you, your mental health, and your own internalized negative childhood experiences, for the way you treated a child (me) as a grown-ass woman with a lot of privileges. However, from reading other testimonies, this seems like a consistent pattern. It has been over a decade and you continue to harm and traumatize young girls. You do not seem like someone who will or can learn, which is insurmountably unfortunate for an educator, a title you do not deserve. You prey on young teenage girls’ psychological health and bootlick young teenage boys whose families you are a sycophantic fan of. That is disgusting and creepy. You make educational spaces unsafe and need to be urgently removed.
Manzur: You were right. Bangladeshi, and honesty most, societies did, do, and will point their finger at women. That is unfortunate. But not as unfortunate as you, one of the most educated women and pioneers of education in Bangladesh, perpetuating, maintaining, and reinforcing that misogyny. It wasn’t the outside society at large that pointed their finger at me, Mrs Manzur. As a child, Sunbeams was my only society. And the only shaming I experienced from society was the one you created. The only shaming I experienced was from you, from your employees, from your students. Society doesn’t know s**t about me or my private life. You did. You not only acted as an agent of patriarchy, but as someone who held such a high status in society you had the very unique power and ability to shape society, to uphold principles of freedom and equity. You decided to be a spokesperson of patriarchy instead. Thank you for the education you provided me, the things I learned about life in classrooms and outside classrooms throughout my tenure as a student at Sunbeams, and thank you for instilling in me a sharp vigilance of society that I have utilized to help young students feel safe and accepted, teach body-positivity, self-love, and compassion, and advocate for non-nationalistic, non-elitist practices of DEI and social justice. I will continue doing so and striving to fill the lives of everyone who has the honor of crossing paths with me with love, joy, and care, inshAllah. May you rest in peace, Mrs Manzur."
