Becoming an Adult

I’ve been seventeen for a while now. I’m no longer forced to attend church services for a religion I don’t profess. I’m no longer forced to exercise. At last, I’m exempt from compulsory education.

Did it happen? Did I finally become an adult?

To me this is all arbitrary external change, my parents losing their authoritarian convictions, the government adjusting its laws to leave me alone on the weekdays. I can’t identify any change in me that would have prompted those revisions. I’m exactly as I was in ninth grade, when I was treated like a second-class citizen.

More than once that year, amid a tearful argument with my parents, I slammed my eyes shut and wished to be treated like I am now. Maybe my wish was granted. Maybe that’s how I got here. Maybe I opened my eyes, and then I was sitting at this keyboard with no recollection of the argument, finally free. That would explain a lot.

I found myself having similar thoughts a couple of months ago, when my father drove me to the bank to set me up with my first debit card. To do so, he wanted to transfer my money from an old account to a new one. Unfortunately, the teller told him when he tried, my account was a minor’s account, opened with my mother’s signature, so she needed to be present to withdraw. My father wanted at least to know the balance of the account, but the teller wasn’t allowed to give us that either.

Back in the car, my father was incensed.

“They wouldn’t even tell you how much money was in your account!”

I reminded him that not three years ago, he would refuse every one of my very frequent requests to know how much money I owned, because “Kids don’t need to know about that.” But he wasn’t in the mood for a debate.

It’s surreal. It’s as if I was curled up on the ground my entire life, being kicked by a ring of people. Then some invisible signal issued, and they stopped all at once. No apologies, no offer of medical aid, just a lift off the ground and some amiable small talk.

Maybe a supervisor sent a message through their earpieces.

“At ease, agents; you’ve got the wrong guy. This one’s competent.”


Written: 8/3/2016

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Nik

I share controversial but correct opinions on youth rights and other topics.

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