Fake Fairytales - By Alex Lin

Written By: Alex Lin

Category: Essay- Personal Narrative

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Alex Lin presents a compelling personal narrative essay titled "Fake Fairytales," as part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This reflective piece delves into the complexities of identity and the pressure of societal stereotypes through the lens of childhood experiences. Lin's narrative artfully weaves the theme of rewriting one's story in a world that often forces preconceived roles upon us, conveying a message of resilience and self-discovery.

About the Work

"Fake Fairytales" explores themes of identity, societal pressure, and personal growth. Through evocative storytelling, Lin captures the emotional weight of stereotypes and expectations, particularly within the Asian community. The essay's mood is introspective and transformative, as Lin reflects on the journey from feeling trapped in others' narratives to taking control of their own story. The vivid imagery and metaphors highlight the struggle and eventual triumph over external definitions.

Fake Fairytales

Original Submission by Alex Lin

When I was five years old, my mom read me my very first fairytale. Her voice was soft, warm, and steady, the kind of voice that made even the impossible feel real. She told me the world was beautiful, magical, and full of kindness. And I believed her because kids always believe the people they trust most.

But at ten years old, I learned that not every story has a kind beginning. I remember walking into my classroom, clutching my pencil like a sword. Everyone around me laughed, traded snacks and shared stories about their weekends. And me? I stood out not because anyone knew me, but because they thought they did. I was the only Asian kid in the room, and suddenly that became my entire character in everyone else’s fairytale. They didn’t know my favorite food and the songs that made me feel alive. Instead, they “knew” one thing:

“You must be smart.”

That sentence followed me like a shadow I never asked for. Down the hallways. Into tests. Even the quiet moments after tests were handed back. The sentence echoed, like a line from a story I didn’t write.

Sometimes I caught my teachers looking at me, and I wondered, were they waiting for me to prove the stereotype right? Or were they waiting for me to fail?

And if I did fail, would they think, So maybe he wasn’t the smart Asian kid after all? My mom always told me, “Try your best in school.” But at ten, eleven, twelve… I didn’t know what “best” meant.

Pressure felt like a heavy cloak, the kind that royals wear in fairytales, but it’s suffocating in real life.

So I escaped the pressure by the only way I knew how: go to school, go home, play on my phone. Repeat.

Sometimes my mom would see me playing games, and our eyes would meet. Her gaze wasn’t angry. It was emptier than that, like a story running out of pages to write. The same look teachers gave me when a low score landed on my desk.

Then at fourteen, everything cracked the way glass slippers shatter when reality hits stone.

I got a math test back. A big, sharp F stared at me.

Before my shock even lifted, a friend laughed,

“How do you get an F when you’re Asian? You’re a fake Asian.”

Fake.

That word hurt worse than the grade.

And as if life wanted to drive the point deeper, I learned my mom was sick that same week. I blamed myself instantly.

If I had tried harder…

If I had lived up to what everyone expected…

If I had been the son she deserved… Maybe she would’ve been happier before everything fell apart.

That night, I cried until I fell asleep.

But the next morning, my mom sat beside me, and said quietly,

“Something’s changed within you.”

She was right.

I told her I would try. Not because of stereotypes. Not because of the pressure. But because I was tired of being a character in someone else’s fairytale.

So I got a tutor. I learned slowly, painfully but consistently. The letters I once feared turned into A’s. After freshman year, I even took a summer Algebra 2 course, something the old me would’ve never imagined.

Looking back, I realized something: the fairytales weren’t completely wrong. The world can be beautiful, not because it’s perfect. It’s beautiful because people learn to rebuild ourselves when everything breaks.

My magic didn’t come from swords or wands.

It came from pressure, from pain, from choosing who I wanted to become. It came from rewriting the fairytale others wrote for me

The fairytale wasn’t fake. It just needed a new author. And that author was me.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious platform celebrating diverse voices in literature. This competition invites writers from around the world to share their unique stories and perspectives, fostering a community of creativity and expression. Participants engage through various categories, showcasing their talents and contributing to the rich tapestry of global storytelling.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Alex Lin for sharing "Fake Fairytales" with us. Your narrative is a powerful contribution to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, offering insight into the journey of reclaiming one's story. We appreciate your courage in addressing complex themes and look forward to seeing more of your inspiring work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.