In 1991 Tajikistan gained its independence. USSR was in the past, but not for the people. During the civil war, our family was threatened, and the family was forced to leave the capital. We left to the north.

At the age of 6, I found myself in a city that was strange to me, among people who were not like me. People here were religious, although they loved to gossip. People here liked to invite each other to one’s house, but without address details. Indeed, they did not want you to visit them. They had many unwritten customs and traditions and lots of taboos for girls. For example, girls should not be photographed with fluffy long hair.

Once I was sitting in the yard and heard a conversation between a neighbor and her daughter.

“How could you take a picture with your hair down?” – asked a woman.

“I wanted it like that”, the girl replied to her.

To which her mother reacted nervously and said: “This is how prostitutes take pictures!”

For me it was weird. Why are girls allowed to wear beautiful long hair, but not allowed to take a picture?

Girls are not allowed to walk hand in hand with boys, otherwise everyone will think that he is her lover. It's amazing why people can't show their relationship to the society? Love is a wonderful feeling. Why hide it?

A lot of different "no" for girls in our society. I did not understand these prohibitions when I was little. Even more I did not understand the submissiveness and obedience of girls. For them, all prohibitions were the norm, but for me they were strange.

I went to first grade. It was an ordinary secondary school with Tajik as the language of instruction. There were 20 students in a class. Half of which were girls. I didn't want to be friends with girls. And yes, they were not particularly drawn to me. “She is not from our city. She is an outsider”, classmates said. It was painful and uncomfortable. I wanted to rebel. But at that moment I could not even imagine that it was possible to change something. So, I took everything for granted. I followed the customs and traditions; I did not want to upset my mother. My family had to obey the rules of the north, as it was necessary to build relationships with people and establish a new life in a new place. But the feeling of injustice haunted me.

Fourth grade. I was already 10 years old. My photo was hanged on the honor roll among the rest of the high school students, but I did not have any friend among girls. A way out was needed since it was no longer possible to be alone in the class. And I decided to talk to the boys. They didn't care where I was from. They did not have bans.

We used to run around the school yard during breaks, played gun shooting games, climbed trees, and built shelters there to hide.

It seemed like boys have more rights. They were free in their movements and in the choice of communication. They were allowed to walk until late, visit friends and stay there overnight.

I was little then, I thought that more permissiveness for the boys meant that they were better than girls. I did not understand why it was so and what I could do to change it. Therefore, at some point, I wanted to become a boy. And maybe then I could be free.

Boys loved me. They often came to my house and called me to play. I was the center of their attention all the time, they told interesting stories, taught me how to fight and defend myself and I enjoyed it.

In 1997, after the war ended, our family decided to return to their native capital. For a long time, the family was recovering financially. It was necessary to go through the same hardships of life as in the north again. New life, job search, finding a good school for the kids. Thanks to previous acquaintances, my mother managed to find an excellent job in the Government. I was placed in one of the best schools in the city. I found myself in a new environment again. In a completely different environment. I have changed, people have already changed.

The children were different in the new school. Here there were fewer restrictions. Children were more relaxed, and boys could be friends with girls. Nobody was calling me a stranger.

Boys and girls have already played love. If earlier I was a friend with the boys, and perceived them as my “buddies”, now it was impossible. Any attempt to speak and make friends with the boys was perceived by the environment as: “Do you love him? Is this your boyfriend?”

For conservative northern people, there was no concept of love for boys. But things were different in the capital. I didn't understand what "This is my boyfriend" meant. Or “We're dating". And again, I turned out to be an outsider among my own people. I could not communicate with the boys without subtext. I had no friends among girls and no friends among boys.

At the new school we were taught in Russian. And I did not know Russian at all. It was very difficult to study. A big blow to the child's psyche and pride. From a brilliant student, I turned into student with worst marks in the class.

A new student from Moscow came to our class. Short, with blue eyes and long black hair. Her name was Madi. She walked into the classroom with her head down. Our teacher introduced her to us and invited her to sit at a free desk. Madi walked around the room and the only empty chair was behind my desk. She sat down quietly and smiled at me. It was exciting. For the first time in a while, a girl smiled at me. I was wondering if we could be friends. I thought: Why did she smile? Did she like me?

We didn't talk much. Sometimes she would ask me to help her with her homework. We used to work out together during the breaks. No one talked to her in the class, or to me. I did not know why. Was it because we both were newcomers, or because she was an outsider?

One day, Madi approached me in the school and said: “We moved to Russia when I was born. It was hard for us to get along among the Russians. We were called "black ass" from Tajikistan. I had no friends in class because I had a white streak of hair”. I felt sorry for her. It seemed like we had gone through the same pain. And this got me thinking. I wanted to be friend with her and show her that a defect in her appearance does not matter. That she belongs here. She is not a stranger.

I tried to be kinder and more attentive to her than usual. I was careful in my communication so as not to offend her in word or deed. We used to spend beautiful times together. We started visiting each other. Sometimes she stayed with me overnight.

I got a girlfriend. It was a small miracle for me and my first small victory. It was always interesting to talk to her. She gave me advice on how to behave with guys and be a lady. And I wanted more such cool girlfriends. I remembered a case when one boy from another class was waiting for me in front of the school with flowers. It was on March 8, International Women Day. Madi saw him from the window.

Madi: I think someone is waiting for you outside.

Me: Who? Oh, my God! Why is he with flowers? I am not going out. Please, go tell him, that I am no at school today.

Madi: Calm down. It’s just flowers. Let boys take care of you. Enjoy.

Me: No. I cannot. What will I tell him? Thank you for the flowers. Now, bye. Do I need to go home? How would my neighborhood react? They will tell my mom everything.

Madi: Come on. Don’t panic. I understand it’s your first experience. Just go there, smile, take the flowers. Let him lead the conversation. Listen to what he says. If he wants to walk you home, let him do it. Accepting flowers doesn't obligate you to anything else. And if he takes you home, it doesn’t mean anything bad. It’s just a friend. Go!

Years passed. We were already in 7th grade. Every day while doing homework, I cried because I didn’t succeed.

On one of those evenings, it dawned on my mother. She firmly stated that she would hire tutors for me in Russian language and in mathematics. She worked twice as hard, saved on clothes and unnecessary things. She decided to invest in my education no matter what.

Every day after school, I stayed for extra classes. I returned home at 5 pm. Tired and hungry. There was always hot food at home. It was calm and comfortable. I could always come home and eat delicious food. I didn't always find time for Madi. We talked mostly in class. In the evenings, homework assignments according to the curriculum and extracurricular activities.

Another year went by. School Mathematics Olympiad. My teacher suggested that I take part in it. She believed in me, and I gratefully accepted her offer. Daily preparations, sleepless nights, arguing with mom over mathematical exercises. She's a mathematician by education. As a result of hard work, I took the first place among my peers at school. Halleluiah! Another achievement for me.

It was a discovery for me. After the Olympiad, I was approached by two most popular girls in the class. They greeted me and invited me to their party. It was at one of our classmates' apartments, which was available. They decided to gather in a small company and celebrate the victory of those who took the leading places at the Olympiads.

I realized that if you want to make friends, it's not only the ability to communicate, but also your accomplishments. If you are successful, if you are a winner, people will want to be friend with you.

Since then, we have become very close friends. Every day after school we went for walks and discussed everything in the world. Shared problems and discussed boys. They turned out to be quite interesting and funny people. The girls seemed so cute to me, so tender in pink dresses and with huge bows on their heads. And I was a hooligan girl who was always ready to defend and protect them.

I introduced Madi to new friends from the class. I told them how cool and talented Madi was. She was great at drawing. I made friends and we were together until we graduated from the high school.

We have finished school. Received certificates and were preparing to enter universities. I was studying the whole summer to pass entrance exams to the National University of Tajikistan. And my friends were getting ready to enter Russian universities. We have all received high marks. The three of them left for Moscow. I stayed in Tajikistan. All alone. At first, we kept in touch, but soon the communication stopped.

None of them have called me or wrote to me. Days, months passed. No news. I wrote them and called. But they disappeared. It was very hard. Losing friends was painful. But life never stops. And I move on!