The Shame Game

We Failed a Girl 

Who created the word “scandal”? What did they feel and see that made them coin a word so powerful you could feel its meaning, even if it’s your first time hearing it? There’s an uncomfortable silence that comes with scandal — watchful, evil, and thick. Every time I remember the incident, I try to imagine how she felt. One moment, she was just Mariam from senior class, and the next, she was that girl. 

When the video leaked, it moved quicker than the wind, and the whispers that followed were brutal, like frostbite. I saw students turn into judges like there was an invincible swap of our pens and notebooks, for a white wig and a gavel.   

This isn't just her story, it's all of ours. What went down inside the walls of that school was more than shame. It was a cruel game, and we all played it. 

Not a Mistake, But a Weapon 

“How could you let this happen?” I heard a teacher ask Mariam with great disdain. I couldn't see her face because of the number of teachers in the staff room. They all surrounded her like starved lions waiting for their turn to take a piece — and they all did. I walked past the office and headed to the school’s bathroom — I needed a quick break. There were no activities, which was unusual because it was a lesson period but no teacher had bothered to check in on us or teach something. 

Our classroom was a silent war zone. Everyone was whispering something in groups, each trying to give the latest story they picked from a few seconds of eavesdropping. I heaved a sigh, shaking my head before turning the faucet and watching as the water flowed into the sink. I stared and imagined washing her problems along with the tiny dirt on the sink’s surface. 

I washed my hands and looked at my reflection in the mirror, and my heart jumped into my mouth — well, not literally. “Why are you so jumpy today?” My best friend at the time, Cassie, asked. 

Without turning to face her I said “ I thought I was the only one here. You scared me, Cassie.” 

I saw her eye me suspiciously, and I could guess why. Too bad I wasn't a fan of all the fracas going on upstairs in the classroom. 

“You’re hiding, aren't you? Oh, come on! There's a serious gist going on upstairs and you're hiding in the bathroom? Do you know how risky it is to stay away for thirty seconds? There is always something new coming up, and I'm sure we've missed a ton of...” 

I flashed her an angry look, cutting her mid-sentence. “Not now, Cassie. Not now!” I screamed, surprising even myself. I never raised my voice and when I did, it wasn't at my best friend. 

“Really? A girl chose her path and you can't blame us for talking. What was she thinking when she clicked play? If people want to live the way they choose then they should be well-prepared for the consequences.” Cassie fired back with an anger that matched mine, but I was on the verge of backing down like I always did. 

“She wasn't the only one. You speak as if it was a solo thing and it doesn't include the guy.” This was one of the main reasons I felt sick — no one was talking about Andrew, at least not in the same way they spoke about Mariam. 

“She should have known better. Now stop feeling sorry for her and let's head back to class, okay?” I cringed at her words, and even more at her coolness, but I let her pull me out of the bathroom back to our class. 

We had barely stepped inside the classroom when Lucy, a girl well-known for having the latest stories, or shall I say gossip, shrieked and said “They just called her father, he'll be here soon! That's not the juiciest one! Rumors have it that he's a pastor.” I heard the collective gasps from the students. I stumbled on my foot and Cassie said something to me, but I didn't hear her. I let her lead me to our seat, where I laid my head on the desk, wondering what this new event would mean for Mariam. 

When Discipline Became Humiliation  

There's a thin line between discipline and torture. That day, the line was crossed and stomped on. 

Mariam and I weren't friends, but we almost were. We worked as good acquaintances after two weeks of transferring to a new school. I met this girl who smiled at me and invited me to sit with her when the teacher was still figuring out where to fix me. She was my first seat partner, and the thing about first seat partners is that you never forget them. 

She spoke so freely and made her friends talk to me. We even had lunch together at the school’s canteen, and my first day at school wasn't so bad as I had expected it to be. For the rest of the week, we'd walk home together, do assignments, talk about our hobbies and I found out that she loved writing, which was among the numerous things we had in common. 

Mariam told me about her father and how strict he was. She told me how he locked her and her younger sister in the house every time the grown-ups had somewhere to go. He did it to protect her — that's what everyone told her including her mother. It also had to do with the church, because her father was a respected pastor in their church, everyone looked up to him and used his children as good examples to their kids. 

She was always beaten for the smallest things, and I noticed some bruises on her body to confirm it. Things changed when she didn't go to school for a few days, and people noticed how quiet I was. That's when Cassie came into the picture and refused to leave. After Mariam returned, Cassie stood her ground. “You have other friends, Mariam, leave her alone.” 

I looked out the window and saw two teachers walking into the school with a man in his early 40s. It was Mariam’s father. He walked with quiet authority, like he was used to making rules and seeing others live by them. 

I heard he wasn’t allowed to sit before they shoved the phone in his face. I don’t know what broke me more — that they showed him the video or that they did it so easily. Like it was just another normal school day, and the father had come to see his daughter’s performance in school. As if showing a father his child’s exposed body was part of the day’s activities. 

They all looked at him with eager eyes, ears sharpened till they were sensitive to the lowest sound, waiting for his reaction. What were they aiming to gain? To shame her into obedience like they hadn't broken her enough or to shame him into being a stricter father — but he was already a strict parent. 

He couldn't look at her. He sat on a chair and lowered his head with his arms resting on his lap. He was the image of everything a daughter would hate to see — dejection, shame, disappointment, and anger.  

Mariam’s father left without a word or a glance at her. She refused to cry, she wouldn't give them the pleasure. I was proud and shocked because I knew I would have trembled at their feet and maybe try to escape their judging looks by harming myself. I was a coward, and I knew that. 

They called that shit show discipline, but what I witnessed looked a lot more like humiliation. And what hurt more was that it wasn't for what she had done, but for being a girl who did it. She was that girl but not for the right reasons. 

And in all of this, not one teacher said Andrew’s name. 

Feisty or Fear? 

Some girls survive by becoming what you call rude.

We were sure she wouldn't come back to school after the chaos, but she did. Mariam was back with a different aura around her. She looked at everyone in the eye and didn't shrink when teachers raised their voices at her unnecessarily. Her back was straighter, her eyes piercing and her stance, intimidating. 

Cassie and everyone said she was rude and should cower in shame instead. I knew they hated it, people hate what they do not understand. They wanted the routine — for her to hide and pick whatever pieces of kindness she could find. 

While they all called her rude, I knew what I saw. That wasn't confidence. That was survival.

“Dirty and proud! Can you imagine that? The audacity of this Mariam girl.” Cassie had said loudly for Mariam to hear. 

“Cassie stop it, what are you doing? Everybody can hear you.” I whispered in a pleading tone, but it was Cassie and she always did whatever she wanted. 

“I'm sure everyone agrees with me that she is dirty and unrepentant. Walking around with her head held high like her self worth would rise with it.” We heard the students laugh. 

I knew I should have publicly shut Cassie up but I didn't want to take the heat from the class. Besides, I thought that without Cassie I would be an outcast and I knew how terrible it was. I lived by the rules and a dumb part of me was grateful to Cassie for taking me under her wing. 

“Please, just leave her alone, she’s been through so much already.” I pleaded with Cassie but I could tell by her locked chin and angry stare that she wasn’t ready to let it go. 

“You talk too much for someone with no morals. There isn't any much difference between us Cassie, except that mine was caught on tape and yours wasn't.” I stared back to see if I heard the right person. It was Mariam and she had defended herself. 

“You don't get to talk to me that way…” Cassie was interrupted by a fuming Mariam. 

“Oh, but I do. Get over your obsession with me, it's not healthy, and I'm sure you already know what gender I prefer.” Mariam said with a scoff before taking a novel from her school bag. The whole class went wild with ohs and ahs and I knew Cassie would hate it. 

“It's because of your aunt’s fake America promise, isn't it? Tell us Mariam why you're still here and not sunbathing somewhere in America like you told everyone in the staff room a week ago? You thought you could spill your dirty laundry in public and escape with a snap of your tiny fingers? Right? If you want to survive here then you must watch your tongue and your actions unless you burn.” Cassie said with a smirk so vicious I shivered. 

The rumor that Mariam’s aunt was sending her to America had started spreading when she stayed home for a few days. Everyone thought she left until we saw her again. A boy who was a member of her church had told the class that the church leaders said that what she did was a disgrace and would not be accepted so she wouldn't corrupt others. They stopped her from attending the church 

Some students said that Mariam was bragging about going to America but it didn't sound like bragging to me. I could see right through it — it was her escape. Like someone holding on to the only bit of hope, they had left. 

“My aunt knows everything and she still wants me. My family is aware of my sins and I'm still with them. There's a peace that comes with being free that you'd never know. All you'll keep doing is to hide your crimes and portray an image you're not in front of everyone. I'm going to America, but you'll still be here.” 

The class fell silent. 

I'm not sure who won that round or if there was anything to win — the students, or the girl we tried to destroy. 

 

Andrew Was a King and She Was a Cautionary Tale

She was the girl everyone used as an example to naughty kids — he was seen as a king. A matyr king. 

When I think of Andrew, I think of the lie. We hadn't spoken that day, in fact, we hadn't spoken before. The only thing I knew was his name and that we were in the same class. He was part of the troublemakers but smarter and cunning. Too cunning, they had a nickname for him that I can't remember. Would I call him good-looking or charming? None of the above. Bright wasn't your quintessential good-looking guy and he wasn't average either. I wouldn't call him ugly but he looked interesting. 

I think what drew people to him was how smart he was and that air of elusiveness around him like you couldn't catch him. Humans are natural hunters so he was a good sport for people who loved to chase. Perhaps he was charming but in a crooked way that I missed. 

During lunch break on the second week of being in that school, I walked to the library since it was usually quiet, but that day, people must have found something interesting because the place was crowded. I decided to leave when someone called my name in full. By the time I looked around to find who called me, Andrew was already walking confidently toward me. 

“You don't talk to people, why?” He asked with a small smile that unnerved me. 

“There is no one to talk to, only Cassie and Mariam,” I said quietly. I saw a glint in his eyes after I mentioned Mariam. 

“Ah, yes! You're Mariam’s friend. Are you good friends with her? Do you like to party? I have a party coming…” He suddenly stopped and smiled again before making a show of looking around us to make sure no one was listening. 

“Can we go upstairs for a minute? It's loud out here.” There was one place in the library that was always quiet and I've only been there once but it gave me the creeps so I never went back. I didn't like the idea of going there with him so I tried to give him a quick excuse but he insisted that it would only take a minute. Even though he made me feel uncomfortable, I tried to be logical and hear him out. 

He didn't say anything when we went upstairs, he only mumbled words and I kept asking him to repeat himself. Where was the clear-speaking boy I met downstairs? I didn't know it was all part of his plan. 

After that encounter, I went to school the next day and I noticed a change in some of the students, especially the boys. They looked at me strangely and snickered. Cassie came to me and announced in a very playful tone that Andrew said some things about me. 

“What did he say?” I asked worriedly. 

“Don't mind him, I know it's not true because you're scared of the opposite sex” She paused to laugh at her statement. 

“Okay, don't get mad. Andrew told the boys that you let him touch you in the library for one minute. Honestly, I'd laugh and feel flattered because it's literally Andrew.” She dragged his name and laughed some more. I stared at her in horror, panic rising somewhere deep inside me. I didn't think, I acted. I ran up to him where his friends were, I didn't care who was listening as I demanded to know why he was spreading false rumours about me. 

“I let you touch me? You said you wanted to talk but you didn't say anything!” I said, shaking with fear and anger. 

“I was just joking around, don't take it to heart. Can't you take a little joke?” He asked and laughed like I was some insolent kid. 

After that day, I never spoke to him again and avoided him like the plague. But it was this same Andrew who was getting pats on his back from the boys and love letters from Pick Me Girls — who he never picked by the way. 

Teachers did nothing to him, they even gave him indirect compliments like boys will be boys, save your energy for later, concentrate on school for now, you'll be out of school and you'll be free to do as you please. 

When Mariam stayed away from school from a few days, he came to class and acted like a victim. Everyone saw one person in that video and mentally removed the second one — Andrew. 

Mariam was marked as a target. Andrew was crowned. 

Pain is Contagious

I watched friends turn into strangers and cruelty mistaken for curiosity. Her friends avoided her like her presence could taint them and the people who stayed around her only wanted to hear the story from the horse’s mouth. 

That was the moment when I learned something about pain. It is contagious. I wondered why no one stood up for her, not even me. As I write this, I think thought about how grown me would have protected her fiercely. Like a mama bear I would have shielded her with my words and even my body. 

But I didn’t know how to be brave so I lowered my eyes and looked away. 

 I hated how the adults didn’t try to do things like adults. They stood by as spectators when they should have stood up. I saw how quickly girls were ready to turn on each other for men’s approval just to survive. It made me view safety as something you’re not given but something you must fight for. 

Dear Mariam, 

I know I should have said something, but I spoke to everyone but you. I defended you in private but couldn’t speak up when I needed to. I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, I should have said a few kind words to you. 

I hope you have a better life now than you did then. 

Yours truly, 

Seat partner