13-years-old: I get up to get some paper from the cubbies in the front of the classroom and a boy follows me. He loudly asks me why Indian girls are so hairy. I stare at him, shocked, wanting to disappear. He presses on, telling me all brown girls are unattractive and he's only ever met one girl hairier than me. He tells me her name, as though I'd know her. I turn around and ignore him until he goes away. The whole class is quiet -- no one sticks up for me. I learn what it's like to hate your skin. Really, really hate it.