I just wanna rant a bit

About life as an unprivileged debater in 3rd world country when everything presurrized you to stop struggling for you dream even if I want to.

The story starts from wealth inequality. Yes, you. Definitely you.

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In the vase majority of my life, I am unprivileged.

Privilege means that you have all the access you need to achieve your wants, for instance like easy transportation, acceptance from parents for your decisions, money to handle your practical stuff, etc.

As my high school was practically in rural area, i haven’t had enough exposure of mind-shaping framework of critical thinking and public speaking confidence. What I had was just a mind-drilling subconscious bigotry and hatred, sometimes directly to myself. For instance, I always hate P.E class most of my life because I cannot prevail well on that stamina-enduring exercise. My body was fat, and my reflect was inherently shitty, making me the perfect object of fat-shaming around me. Shooting a basketball ball to the ring was a torturing endurance contest between my inner hate to my shitty body and the sneer smile of my classmates. It was hard.

3rd world country suffers from the everyday occurrence of self-hatred and under confidence of the victim,and the over-bravado of the bully. It is especially entrenched in the rural area, directly affecting the poor working class that need to sweat like a waterfall everyday just to get the ends meet. Why the bully mentality happened, then? Poor working class doesn’t have enough incentive nor access to privileged perspective of life, such as having enough food on the table, time to explore your own hobby, getting your hands together between sleeping time for bedtime stories. No such thing like that. Poor class work, work, work and leaving their kids in ruin; a ruin of hatred and bigotry of another more privileged kind of human when the parents whine about his chinese boss cut his pay day, his Jakartan supervisor that has lack of work ethics understanding, shouting as he drinking coffee under the shade. Thus, the bully generation was concieved under the veil of agony.

You probably ask, where’s the punchline? It is actually ironic that I turned into the bully after I passed those fat-shaming craziness. Making me the worse of all.

Debating? Sure. The life in my campus was revolved in debating.. for under class citizen, i’m sure. First of all, debating has a strong entry point for the likes of me: rego fee, and a free mind. I lacked both. My competitive debating experience was around the satanic circle of non-breaking, gathering money for rego fee, fragmented training from separate paper entrails in the internet, a crushing defeat by a newcomer from a privileged institution, and grieving for life. I don’t have a good supporting system behind me, a coach to hug me when I broke into tears, and a guidance to put me through those years of endless hell.

I cried. Nonstop. In my mind. Those fat shaming memories came to light everytime the cycle repeated. I got lost and have no means to break free..

It is how the poor labour class feel when they cannot escape the wheel of poverty? Debate often talks about wealth inequality, in which the participants that had all the glory were all privileged, middle to high class society, has a liberated mind, and above all: exclusionary.

I guess, the struggle to keep my head held high is just a fragmented memory, just like a pile of scrapped printed research paper that leads me to my loss.

Im tired of being unprivileged

Ariefinara Hernawan

Written by

Visual Dreamer, Gamers, Hopeful Writer,and a Loving Boyfriend.