The Price of Belonging is Pretending | by Awabasten | Oct, 2025

Sometimes pretending not to know is the only way to be seen.

I didn’t know how much of myself I’d hidden until I watched someone else do it, too.

Alina and I met during our first year at university. She came all the way from the Philippines. At first, I didn’t think we’d get along. I usually stayed close to other international students, mostly Africans. Coming from a small country like The Gambia, it wasn’t common to meet someone from home.

It was introduction day. We were split into groups, and Alina and I ended up with two Dutch girls, Brenda and Mieka, our student buddies. The plan was simple: explore Maastricht and get to know each other.

It was Alina’s first time in the Netherlands. I’d been living here for a while, but that didn’t stop them from treating both of us like brand-new arrivals.

“This is the famous church,” Brenda said as we walked past it.

Alina’s eyes lit up. She admired everything, the buildings, the people, even the pigeons. The more excited she got, the more Brenda and Mieka leaned in, explaining things, pointing stuff out.

Inside one of the malls, Alina got thrilled over the escalator. “Oh my God, this is so cool!” she said, going up and down like a kid. Mieka joined in and brought us to the toilet next, eager to show us the automatic faucet, soap dispenser, and hand dryer. (You know, the Dyson-style one)

Alina smiled the whole time. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said.

By then, I just wanted to sit somewhere quiet. I was a little irritated. I wished she’d slow down or act like she’d seen this stuff before. Brenda and Mieka were focused on her. I was background noise.

We finally sat at a café. That’s when the questions started.

“Where are you from again?”

“The Gambia,” I said.

They nodded politely. That’s when I realised, we still hadn’t really introduced ourselves. We knew each other’s countries, but not much else.

Their curiosity was harmless, but it came with assumptions. When Alina said how beautiful the café was, Mieka replied, “Everything here is nice. You must feel lucky to study here.”

Alina smiled and nodded.

The questions kept coming:

“Is it safe where you’re from?”

“Do you have universities there?”

“What language do they speak in Africa?”

I’d seen these online before, but hearing them in real life hits different. I froze for a second, then reminded myself: They probably mean well. Just breathe.

And maybe they did. These were teenagers who hadn’t looked far beyond Europe. Still, it’s 2024. You’d think people would know better by now.

Then Alina, who looked a little tired, turned to me and asked, “How’s The Gambia? I heard it’s peaceful there. Do you miss it already?”

I smiled. “It’s beautiful. The people are warm, and the sun always shows up. But I’ve been living here for the past seven years.”

They all stared at me, surprised. Brenda and Mieka looked awkward, like they’d just realized they’d been giving a tour to someone who already knew the city.

“How old are you?” Brenda asked.

“Twenty-eight.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought you were nineteen! You look so young.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, laughing.

A few minutes later, the bill arrived, and Brenda and Mieka went to pay.

That left me alone with Alina. We hadn’t really talked before, just small smiles here and there. Most of the day had been sightseeing and quick chatter.

“So, where are you from?” I asked.

“The Philippines,” she said.

“I know, but where exactly?”

She laughed and said, “Manila. A city full of cafés and malls.”

I must’ve looked surprised, because she added, “It’s funny. People here talk to me more when I act a little stupid.”

That line stayed with me.

Because that used to be me. When I first arrived, I acted like everything was new. I said wow and oh my God at every little thing. People loved it. I made friends easily.

But once I blended in, things changed. The people who used to call or check in just faded. Some said they were busy. Others disappeared altogether. It was like, once I stopped needing explanations, I stopped being exciting.

I looked at Alina and realised, I wasn’t annoyed with her. I was seeing a version of myself I hadn’t thought about in years.

When Brenda and Mieka came back, we walked to the university. No one said much. The day felt quieter than it should’ve been.

I think we all had our own small realizations that afternoon.

Maybe that’s how change starts. Quietly.

I just hope the world becomes a place where, when we meet someone new, we start by asking who they are, not just where they’re from.

This is my First post on Medium. Thank you for reading and more to come.