The buzzing in my ear kept getting louder, and louder;  deafening the footsteps and chatter of the short, tall, bold, misguided, prepubescent peers around me. It was a Tuesday, April 7th, I think, and I had been late to school. I could hear the heartbeat in my chest and repeated the four words that have never failed to calm me down.

“You’re okay, I’m okay”

“You’re okay, I’m okay”

The warmth of blood crawled through my veins as I forced myself to walk up to the school's gate, knowing what awaits me is my disappointed disciplinary teacher. The walk from the bus stop to her muscular body was something I dreaded. I had always made it a point to get to school early - To be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, to be late is unacceptable. - so I would never be in the situation I was currently in. I walk up to her, waiting for my punishment as she scans me up and down, making sure every aspect of how I looked was following the student handbook and if not, then looking for another demeanor to add to my demerits.

“You’re okay, I’m okay”

“You’re okay, I’m okay”

We were allowed 9 demerit points before we were given detention, and this would be my first 3 points. This was how the system worked at this local school, harsh on discipline and strict on the physical presentation of oneself. Not knowing the consequences of being late to school, she made me put my backpack on the ground next to me and stand against the wall, not leaning on it, with my hands behind my back for 30 minutes before I was allowed to proceed to my first block class.

A year later, I had transferred schools and receiving this invitation to a house party was the first time for me. I had never been to a party other than a birthday party where everyone's parents were present, so my heart filled with joy and my smile went from ear to ear. I got out of the cab, arriving at the time the invitation prompted and walked towards the door. As I opened the door and walked into the house, I was confused and shocked as to what I saw. The girls were dressed in a way I had never seen before. Their skirts were tight and shorter than the spandex they wore underneath, their upper chest was exposed and left me in a field of confusion as I looked around. This went against everything I had been taught, this was the complete opposite of how a girl was supposed to dress, right?

That’s when my perception of education, the people around me, and myself changed drastically. I was born and raised in Singapore by my Chinese-Indonesian mom and my German-Irish-American dad. I attended local schools until 8th grade, after which I transferred to an international school. Singapore’s local education system is highly regarded all around the world and while it has its merits and I am thankful for my time in local schools, in hindsight, I realized it wasn’t for me. It was a rigid environment where I felt inhibited and unable to display my full potential. Teachers expected me to excel in English due to my ethnicity and would openly express their displeasure whenever I didn’t. I remember getting called to the front of the classroom as she was handing out our papers; the classroom wasn’t big, but I felt small.

“You’re American, aren’t you? You’re supposed to be better than the rest of the class at english, so what is this?”

When I made the switch to international school, I was presented with new-found freedom and the realization that I could finally form meaningful relationships with my teachers. But it wasn’t the rigid environment or the racial profiling that kept me wondering day after day, it was the way we had to present ourselves. I was an American in a local school then a Singaporean in an international school. The three schools I had been in growing up, two being religious all-girls school, and one being a completely different system and way of life, all made me question their differing expectations of females. School dress codes discriminate against their students and while its purpose is supposed to be to make the school environment more conducive to learning, it does the opposite and places the focus not on learning, but on a girl’s body.

In my first school, I attended, Methodist Girls school, the way they expected girls to look was the most unreasonable in my opinion. It was not a simple rule where your uniform had to be neat and clean, it was written in the student handbook that “She is neatly dressed in MGS attire and approved footwear for the time spent in school during school term and school vacation. She will not use her MGS attire for inappropriate purposes and disreputable activities that may tarnish the good name of MGS.” It was growing up with the worry that my pinafore was not proportioned; Blouse: pinafore 3:5. It was making sure that my pinafore was not allowed to be an inch above my knee, front, and back. That my badge was always placed in the middle, 3 fingers above the start of my white, ironed down blouses slit. That on the days we had PE, I had not accidentally worn a sports bra that was not in the prescribed color of white, beige, navy blue, grey, or black. That when I was in a rush, I did not put on a pair of socks without the school's logo that failed to cover my ankle-bone. Earrings had to be small, transparent and silver. When we had a surprise inspection of our nails, I’d run to the bathroom to bite them down to where you are not able to see the white beds of the nail when my palms were faced up. All these things left me anxious day after wretched day. As I walked briskly, quietly and in an orderly manner from one venue to another. Abiding by the rules.

It took leaving the system I was in to realize that I had been raised in an environment that implemented vigorous rules that told me how I had to present myself and look. It taught me that if I was within the dress code and followed the rules, that I would be less exposed to assault and sexual harassment. That it was okay for my teachers and school student leaders to punish me after one small infringement. Did I forget to mention that it was intended to make me focus on school work rather than fashion, but I am pretty sure that this was not the case. I spent more time worrying about how I needed to consistently behave in an exemplary manner, as my school's value’s helped me to grow in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man. It denied me a right of self-expression, left me uncomfortable daily, and now to think about it, it’s pretty sexist and discriminatory.

I believe that every girl, whether aged 7 or 40, has the right to dress how they want to. I believe that the way I was brought up implanted a seed in my head that if I assaulted verbally or sexually, that has to be because I am not following the rules. Maybe my skirt is too short? Maybe I broke the rules by opening my mouth and speaking up for myself instead of walking briskly and quietly in an orderly manner from one venue to another. Growing up in this environment made me who I am today. An eighteen-year-old half white, half Asian girl who lives in Singapore and goes to an international school who is unable to walk down the streets alone. That is always wary of how I decide to dress that day as I plan out my every move making sure I do not disturb anyone with the way I look.

Who I am today versus who I was before is a completely different person. I decided I am not going to let how I want to dress and the way I dress affect anyone else but me. That I am okay with breaking the rules I was taught to follow for 7 years that left me with nothing but social anxiety and feeling constantly insecure no matter how hard I tried not to be. I believe that every man, girl, and woman deserves the right to dress however they like, with freedom of expression, without judgment or a strict mentality on who to be or how to dress.