What We Pretend and What We Feel -Shamim Hasan

Have you ever updated your status to “Feeling excited!” while sitting alone, feeling absolutely nothing? Or smiled through a family dawat, telling relatives your exam prep is going “great,” while your stomach ties into anxious knots?

Growing up in Bangladesh, chances are you are an expert at wearing masks. We are a generation caught between social media’s curated perfection and the undeniable weight of traditional expectations. We are taught to be polite, score the highest marks, and never show when we are falling apart. We have mastered the art of pretending. But what happens to the things we actually feel? To understand this silent battle, let’s step into the shoes of Afif, a seventeen-year-old student, during a late-night conversation with his father.

The Balcony Conversation
The city hummed below, a chaotic mix of car horns and distant construction, but the balcony of their Dhanmondi apartment was quiet. Afif is thinking. His father, sitting opposite him, was reading a newspaper. “So, how was the physics coaching today?” his father asked, not looking up.

What Afif Pretended: Afif adjusted his posture, pasting on a rehearsed smile. “It was good, Baba. Sir finished the thermodynamics chapter. I’m confident about the upcoming mocks.”

What Afif Felt: His chest felt tight. He had spent the entire two hours staring at the whiteboard, equations blurring together. He didn’t care about physics. He spent recess sketching ideas for a graphic novel he was terrified to show anyone, suffocated by the endless cycle of coaching and exams. His father closed the paper and looked at him. “You know, Afif, you say ‘it was good’ the exact same way you say ‘I’m fine’ when you have a 102-degree fever.”

Afif froze. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” his father sighed, leaning forward, “you’ve been carrying a heavy backpack, and it’s not just filled with textbooks. You are telling me what you think I want to hear. What is actually going on?” The urge to deflect was overwhelming. It was the safe route. But the genuine concern in his father’s eyes chipped away at Afif’s armor.

The Breakthrough: “I’m tired, Baba,” Afif whispered, the mask slipping. “I pretend that I want to be an engineer because that’s what makes you and Ammu happy. I pretend I’m focused. But I feel lost. I want to draw. I want to create stories. And I feel like I am failing you by even thinking about it.” Silence hung in the air. Afif braced himself for the lecture. Instead, his father chuckled softly, a sad, knowing sound.

“Do you think you are the only one who pretends?” his father asked gently. “When I started my business, I came home smiling, telling your mother everything was perfect. Inside, I was terrified we would go bankrupt. We pretend because we want to protect the people we love. But Afif, pretending doesn’t protect us. It isolates us.” His father placed a hand on Afif’s shoulder. “Your dreams aren’t a disappointment. Your silence is. Let’s figure out a way to make room for your art.”

Why Do We Build the Wall?
Afif’s story is the daily reality for thousands of us today. We create a massive divide between our external actions and internal emotions. But why?

The “Loke ki bolbe” Factor: The fear of societal judgment is practically coded into our DNA. We pretend we have it all figured out because admitting confusion is seen as a weakness in our highly competitive culture.

The Perfection Trap: Instagram and TikTok show us the highlights of everyone else’s lives. We compare our chaotic reality to their filtered perfection, forcing us to fake joy just to fit in.

Fear of Disappointing Parents: Like Afif, we often hide our true passions or mental health struggles to be the “ideal child.” We shoulder the burden alone, thinking it’s the noble thing to do.

Bridging the Gap: Dropping the Act
Living a double life is exhausting. When you suppress feelings in favor of what you should project, you lose touch with who you actually are. Here is how to tear down the wall:

1. Acknowledge the Disconnect
The first step is radical honesty. The next time you say, “I’m fine,” pause. Ask yourself: Am I really, or am I just saying this to end the conversation? Recognize your genuine emotions daily without ever judging them.

2. Find Your Safe Spaces
You do not have to unmask in front of the whole world. Find a close friend, a trusted teacher, or an empathetic parent who will listen without rushing to fix or judge you.

3. Have the Courage to Disappoint
Sometimes, pursuing your truth means temporarily disappointing others. A momentary disappointment is far better than a lifetime of resentment. Your mental health and your genuine dreams are worth more than a polite, fake smile.

The Final Word
To you, navigating the chaotic streets, endless coaching centers, and high expectations: give yourself a break. You are allowed to be confused and tired. You are allowed to dream differently than what was planned for you. Stop suffocating your genuine feelings under the heavy, exhausting blanket of constantly pretending. The world does not need a perfectly curated, fake version of you. The world desperately needs you to be completely real. Take off the mask. Take a deep breath. Speak your truth loudly.