An Outsider’s Perspective
Upon first glance, one might think that the Mills Breakfast Club is an exclusive extracurricular dedicated to feasting on pancakes every Wednesday morning. Unfortunately, no aspiring student wishing to pass the gates of an Ivy League university has spearheaded such club yet. Instead, the Mills Breakfast Club describes the conglomerate of different groups sitting in the senior area, all loosely recognized by certain individuals and certain tropes. While there’s no shame in maintaining a consistent group of friends throughout high school, there exists an unspoken truth surrounding the rigid culture of “Breakfast Club” at Mills.
The Asian Nerds, the Jpop/Kpop Fans, the Leadership Kids, and the list drags on. My first interaction with Mills High School was essentially a one-item shopping trip at the grocery store: a wide variety of definitive products made available to me, and as a consumer and high school freshman, my first rite of passage was to choose one. An indecisive shopper by nature, I struggled to select a single brand. I was neither entirely one or the other. As if this process wasn’t strenuous enough, I soon realized that my inability to afford a $5 box of eggs with only $3 in pocket was the equivalent to a perceived lack of compensation in my origin, personality, and identity. My missing $2 was ingrained in an immutable fact of life: I did not attend Taylor Middle School.
Having come from a Catholic, private school in San Francisco, it was apparent I missed the years of story building at Taylor: the tight-knit friendships, the trio-splitting drama, and the dynamic between students. The formation of pre-established groups carried on from middle school to high school, setting the precedent for “who sat with whom” and “who hung out with whom”.
That’s not to say I lack friends. Over the years, I’ve grown close to individuals who each represent a piece of the socially diverse demographic at Mills. Yet, as I’ve learned, an invitation to eat lunch with one friend, does not equate to a warm welcome by the rest. I haven’t failed to notice dirty looks, whispers, and questions. There was no room for me to squeeze in through the tight cracks of a group, held together by a bond that symbolized years of knowing one another inside and out. And frankly, it felt wrong to try.
For others who were in a similar position as me, some successfully molded themselves into the fashion of whichever group they aspired to join. Doing so, however, required changing oneself into odd shapes, just large enough to fill in the remaining gaps left between the tight elbow space at the lunch table.
No one is to blame for the mind-boggling existence of this social phenomena, but we must ask ourselves if we’ve ever made any attempt to correct the status quo. Furthermore, do we even recognize the perpetuation of selective stereotypes and its implications?
Part of Breakfast Club Culture is having to listen to social commentary about others. There were periods of time where this problem was extremely prevalent, to the point that our class was accused of acting too “snakelike” towards one another. “She’s a snake” or “He’s annoying”, and the list of dissatisfaction with students continues. While I’m sure there is some validation to these claims – as we are all only human and have our moments of decline – it’s unjustified to boil down an individual’s unique skills, unseen backstory, and exceptional mind, all down to one flaw.
We all have been hurt, and we all have hurt someone at one point. Whether it’s absent-mindedly talking shit about a friend or pointing out one’s facial flaws, we are all guilty of partaking in a cycle where one action incites retaliation over and over again. There are a myriad of reasons as to why this seemingly unbreakable wheel exists, but we may be able to point to insecurity as a common factor.
Insecurity is our worst enemy. It feeds into a need to surround ourselves with people we consider as equals or below us. A need to maintain pretenses to appear “more” of whoever we’d like to be. A need to be appreciated by the larger student body. In the process, insecurity allows us to feed into our worst impulses and pick apart the flaws we see in other people. In doing so, we may not realize the insignificance of the said flaw or the feelings of insecurity we pass on.
Each one of us harbors insecurity as a result of past grievances, but that doesn’t mean we have to project our self-doubt onto others and continue the cycle of dismissal. In fact, it should be the reason that brings us together. It should serve as a point of empathy, as we attempt to understand one another and the past experiences that have shaped who we are today.
Make no mistake: my message is uncomfortable. Maybe it’s uncomfortable for you, because you’ve been in my position before. Or maybe it’s because, at one point, you’ve contributed to this facade. Yet, my intent is not malicious. The purpose of this reflection is not to shame anyone, but instead, it’s to call for self-evaluation.
As my senior year draws to a close, I can’t say I’m proud of every decision I’ve made during the past four years; I could have handled certain situations better; I could have avoided specific mistakes; I could have reached out to more people. These sentiments could be said for any of us, in the graduating class.
But despite our mistakes, the only redeeming quality that we have to negate the effects of our previous blunders-as human beings-is the ability to learn and grow. As much as we may wish for for the existence of a time machine, we can never return to the past. Instead, we harness the power to do much better. We can evaluate our actions, acknowledge our shortcomings, and strive to exceed our expectations. Be kinder than you were yesterday, wiser than you were yesterday, and most importantly, be more than what you were yesterday.
Mills is a bubble. The filtration into each of our respective groups, all loosely recognized by one characteristic or another, limits our ability to break out of our comfort zones and meet new people. While safe within, there exists an entire world waiting for us to step outside. In precisely three days, we will be venturing out into the unknown. I-only now-can comprehend the time of my impending graduation, as I am writing this article at 4:04 AM in the morning.
It is now 4:05 AM. By the time you read this, it will be morning. Maybe the next time you read this, it will be a decade from now. Timing may be key, but time is limited. Believe it or not, human lifespans are incredibly short, especially when compared to that of Galapagos Turtles, whose average life spans are approximately 100 years. Life is too short to be playing in the “safe zone” by interacting with the same two friends or living an untruthful facade. The Galapagos Turtles are proof of that. Therefore, I ask that every reader take advantage of the finite days remaining and fulfill them to the best of their ability. Reach out to someone standing outside your traditional group of friend and ask them how they’ve been doing. Reconcile with an old classmate, and put the unspoken conflict to rest. Resolve uncertainty with yourself, and find the courage to become a better person, starting tomorrow. Whatever choice you make, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with the remaining 36 hours. More importantly, I can’t wait to see what you’ll do with your life beyond Mills High School.
Yours Truly,
Stephanie Wong
