One of us was always pulled aside for wearing the wrong hair tie or for having too much kajal on. Best practices. "What will you do when you work in an office?" they said. We had to be disciplined.
I don't think they understood that they, too, had been coopted into a system that worked against them. I don't think they recognised the cycle they were working tirelessly to recreate. Machines. Siphons for external power.
In the winter of 2008, they told me I wasn't on the student council. I had a sneaking suspicion it was the coloured hairties. I cried because I felt humiliated. I cried because I thought they were right.
They checked our socks during assembly. Socks and belts. One by one, we would line up for inspection, waiting for them to mark us good or bad. I never knew where I would fall. Why was there no moment of rebellion? Why didn't we yell and writhe?