BNKS: Excellence Interrupted

Updated from an earlier version published in SEBS-NA newsletter in Summer 2017 to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Budhanilkantha School going from an all-boys’ school to co-ed.

I was among the earliest cohorts of girls who attended Budhanilkantha School as the school transitioned to become co-educational. The three years I spent at the school challenged me and taught me to go beyond my comfort zone. And the best of all, I came out with lifelong friends and a mentor I still turn to for advice.

Applying to BNKS was not an easy decision for my family — it was a significant financial stretch. But, I am grateful that my parents decided it was a worthwhile investment for my future. I appreciated the attempt at egalitarianism at the school — everyone went by their first name and a roll number and everyone we used, from our clothing to bedding, were the same standard issue. For the first time in my life, I did not have to constantly worry about the class and caste baggage and I was able to focus on my studies, extracurriculars, and fun with friends.

But it was not all fun and games. The school had been an almost all-male dominion for two decades. It had been hastily converted to co-ed as required for continued funding by the British government, and it showed, even two years later when I joined. A large majority of the teachers, support staff, and students were still male. While there was a separate hostel for girls, and another one was being built, rules of engagement were not clear.

Being in a co-ed school environment meant having to deal with teenage boys, most of whom had grown up without much interaction with girls. It went from obnoxious nicknames (mine referred to my dark skin) to catcalls and sexually explicit words carved on classroom bench (it was an era before social media, after all). The uncomfortable interactions were not limited to fellow students either.

We learned to shrug it all off because we did not have a framework to fully analyze what was going on nor the language to really talk about it. We girls became each other’s support system, and most (not all) of us managed the three years relatively unscathed.

Even when there were more serious instances of sexual harassment, the school was not equipped to properly address it. One incident that has stayed with me over the years occurred soon after I graduated, when a faculty member abused his power to sexually harass a student and got away with it.

Of course, sexual violence was not just a result of the school becoming co-ed. It can, and has happened, in same-sex environments, including at BNKS. However, the patriarchal society renders women and girls more vulnerable. And our collective refusal to speak about it keeps the cycle of violence going.

At that time, I thought of my nickname only as an extension of colorism I had faced all my life. I have since heard stories from students ahead of me, as well those who came many years later, about the discrimination they faced as Madhesis.

As a premier educational institution, BNKS has created opportunities for thousands of Nepali women and men — it definitely has for me, and given the broader world professionals who strive to do their best regardless of their field of choice. Because of the impact it has on so many, it also needs to hold itself accountable. It owes it to its students and to the world.