Hall of Fame

Hall of Fame School Bullies

Who says bullying only comes from verbal or physical abuse?

Alienation is another form. These days, the younger generation has embraced freedom of expression—but sometimes, that freedom is weaponized. Bullying now hides behind artistic forms: poetry, blogs, music, even performance.

Let me share three stories where the system is already crumbling and rotting, yet someone still insists on playing the role of ‘the hero' even though they are not one.

First story:

TW: Physical Abuse

I wrote about this in my previous blog post—how I didn’t look like the typical Malay girl in a Malay-dominant school, especially without a headscarf. Back then, my classmates—mostly male students—bullied me physically. They spat on my face when I entered the classroom. They threw stones at my eyes using a makeshift twig slingshot they crafted after PE class. They stole my books and stationery.

I was only eight years old at the time. I kept my mouth shut most of the time. I never told my parents about it. But a few days in, I finally reported it to the disciplinary teacher—especially after my eyes turned red from the stones they threw. The girls urged me to speak up, and I did just that.

Three male students were caught by the disciplinary teacher and punished severely. It felt just, in that moment. But the bullying didn’t stop.

I remember a group of boys approaching me and saying, “Aku pun kena lastik, tak kecoh pun kat cikgu disiplin.”

The thing is—they targeted me alone. It was a girl against three boys.

Till to this day, I wondered why they did that. One stopped after my family went for dinner at their family owned restaurant nearby our neighborhood at the time, in Kepong. He saw my family dining in and he hid in the kitchen. 

Second story:

There’s a girl who fits the typical profile of a minah rempit—a term used for young women involved in illegal street racing, not with cars (those are far too expensive for their budget), but with motorcycles. She’s always surrounded by a crew of guys and plays in a garage band as a side hustle or hobby.

Then there’s another girl—an introvert, shy, and reserved. She rarely interacts with anyone outside her small circle. Both of them are enrolled in an English course.

On the first day of class, everyone introduced themselves. The introvert accidentally said she came from a “wealthy” family, when she actually meant to say “healthy.” Everyone realized it was just a slip of the tongue. But the minah rempit girl seized that tiny moment and created a blog dedicated to mocking her.

Every day, there was a new post.

“Look at how she dresses.”

“She says she’s from a wealthy family, right?”

“She drives a hand-me-down Proton Tiara to class? I thought she was rich.”

Of course, she didn’t write it all so bluntly. She used poetic English, adding flair and subtle jabs. The blog continued until the end of their degree.

From time to time, the introvert would show the blog to her mother, who advised her to sue the girl’s family for mental torture and bullying. But we didn’t pursue it. We realized we’d need money to hire a lawyer and go through the legal process. And even if we won—could they really compensate for the emotional damage done? Even if we reported it to the police, what could they actually do?

Third story:

It was a high-pressure school, where art—especially for us regular students—was seen as highly subjective. We never really knew what the lecturers wanted from us.

In my third story, there are two young women trying to thrive in this environment. One is a highly talented individual, equipped with artistic flair. The other is still learning to find her artistic voice. Her best doodles often came from copying images or artworks she admired online.

For the final-year project submission, the assignment was to create an image that represented or resonated with you. As expected, the talented student produced a highly original and artistic piece. The other, however, submitted a work inspired by something she had seen online.

During the presentation, the talented student publicly called her out—humiliating her in front of the class.

“You got it from the internet,” she said.

Suddenly, the spotlight was on the accused. Over 50 students turned their heads to witness the drama unfolding. Flustered and cornered, the student tried to defend herself. The best she could say in that moment was, “No, I created it on my own.”

Unsatisfied, the talented student pulled out her phone, searched the image online, and showed it to everyone.

“It’s the same thing!” she claimed.

The lecturer, caught in the middle like a ceasefire negotiator, did their best to diffuse the situation. They asked the accused student to demonstrate how she created her work.

Later, back in her hostel room, she drafted a step-by-step breakdown of how she had recreated the image. 

It was a humiliating experience for her. In my view, the situation didn’t need to escalate into public shaming. A private discussion between the student, the accuser, and the lecturer would have been more appropriate. But even then, the accused would still feel exposed—just in a smaller room.

This story offers a different perspective entirely. What if the school had taught students about copyright policies and artistic ethics at the beginning of the course? Wouldn’t that have made a huge difference? Instead of punishing a mistake, they could have prevented it. Instead of spotlighting shame, they could have spotlighted growth. 

The same thing should be done in corporate world. Glorifying sink or swim culture. In reality, the system management is poor. Lacked of structure, expectation and management style. 

These are my personal memories and lived experiences. You are not permitted to reproduce, adapt, or portray this scene in any form of media, out of respect for my reality. The original publisher is still alive. Any similarities or resemblances to this story will be regarded as a violation, and I will pursue legal action accordingly. It is unacceptable to misrepresent or claim my life experience as your own.

If you wish to contact me, please do so respectfully via email: nilhdaf@gmail.com

Do not depict my painful experience in any media format, including films resembling Pekak.

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