IT'S summertime again and I greet the humid heat of Zamboanga City with the familiarity of an old friend. My days are spent in front of the television, the piano, or the computer. But none of these can entertain me.

Last summer wasn't quite as boring. In fact, it was a revelation for me. For only the third time in my whole life, my family and I went to Jolo, Sulu, where my grandparents own some property by the sea. We spent our summer vacation in a place that has the reputation for being one of the 10 most dangerous places on earth.

Being there was like living a dream. It wasn't like the way the media described it. All that I saw was the reality of who I was and of my heritage. It was stunning. The place could induce fear, sadness and an odd sense of belonging from deep inside of me. But most of all, it brought up old memories and thoughts that I had tried to put behind me.

My past life has been a struggle to fit in, but never seeming to be able to do so. When I was four years old, I went to a nice school near our village in Quezon City. Unknown to me, I was the only Muslim student there. Of course, as time went by, the people got used to my being Muslim and stopped asking me about it. Still I remember days when some of my classmates would ask me if I had smelly feet because I was a Muslim.

Thinking about it now, it seems amusing and childish, but looking back, I can remember that the question made me resent my religion.

There were times when I tried to hide behind pretense. When people asked me if I was a Muslim, I would answer yes, but add that I didn't know how to act like one, as if that would make the situation better.

Once I had a conversation with my friends in Grade 6 about religion. They were talking about being Catholic and Christian, and comparing how they acted while they were in church. One girl said you only needed to be good and love God. Finally, they asked me how we practiced our religion. I answered that like them, we also needed to be good and to love God.

Do you know what she said? She told me that I probably said it because I had heard it first from her.

I couldn't believe it. It was a mortifying experience for me. At 12, it was becoming an ordeal to belong to my faith.

When I was a high school sophomore, we moved to Zamboanga City. It was comforting to know that my name wouldn't sound as odd as it did in Manila. School for me was all right. No one treated me like I was different and there were no discussions or arguments about religion. I finally felt normal.

But there are still awkward moments when some guy would ask, "How does it feel to be Muslim?" or "How does it feel being the only Muslim girl in your class?"

I don't answer such questions because I don't think there's an answer. There is no special feeling attached to being the only Muslim girl in class, because it isn't a big deal. Some people make it such a big deal because they've got this enormous bias in their heads that says: "Muslims=Abu Sayyaf=al-Qaida."

Worse, some people actually have to gall to ask me directly if I'm a terrorist! And that is definitely offensive to me.

Some people even confuse faith with culture. Because of my name, people expect me to be able to speak Tausug. Unfortunately, I don't because I grew up in Manila. So, I've heard people saying that I'm not really Muslim because I can't speak Tausug. I even got into an argument with a guy who insisted that I was only pretending that I couldn't speak Tausug! It's so frustrating, really.

My parents brought me up to be polite and nice to others. So I don't talk back; neither do I make comments that would make other people feel bad. But sometimes I get really upset when people treat me like I could only be second-rate because of my religion.

Now I return to my memory of being in Jolo. Who am I? Do I even know the answer to that question? I'm just a normal teenager who likes books, plays the piano and loves to write. Does being a Muslim make me very different from other girls of my age? Does that give others the right to ask me awkward questions so that they can satisfy their curiosity?

I have a religion, and maybe so do you. How different does that make us from each other?

Raiza Katrina Abubakar, 15, is an incoming fourth year high school student at the Ateneo de Zamboanga University.