TLDR: Misconceptions about Buddhism left me embarrassed, especially when questioned by others. Eventually, this discomfort inspired me to study deeper and proudly embrace my beliefs.

Editor’s Note: Some facts have been changed so as not to identify the writer’s educational background

Feeling Out of Place

Growing up Buddhist in a Singapore mission school wasn’t always easy. I clearly remember the puzzled looks when classmates caught a whiff of incense on my uniform, or when someone sarcastically asked if kamma was another god we prayed to.

“If your god is so great, why did he (the Buddha) die in his 80s and not live forever?” my close friends would often quiz me.

It felt awkward and isolating. I was frequently misunderstood, out of place, and even embarrassed. To them, my beliefs seemed outdated and strange.

To me, it was painful. I wanted desperately to fit in, but the mission school’s religion didn’t resonate with my scientific mind. I couldn’t put aside my thirst for knowledge and science for beliefs that, in my opinion, didn’t align with historical records or evolutionary science.

Misunderstandings and Misconceptions

Things became even harder when my friends started converting to the school’s predominant faith. Suddenly, Buddhism became an easy target. We were viewed as easy converts compared to followers of other faiths. Why? Most Buddhists were born into the religion with little to no access to religious texts. Growing up, I even thought the Buddha was from China.

Some whispered that I worshipped demons or idols, pointing to the statues on our family altar. Each comment felt like a punch. Why couldn’t they understand? But on a deeper level, I started asking myself why I didn’t understand my own faith better.

One memory stands out vividly: at my grandmother’s funeral, cousins of another faith asked me, “What are they chanting for Ah Mah? Does she even understand it? Do you? This is such a waste of time.”

I froze. I didn’t have an answer. Shame crept in—a sense of inadequacy, confusion, and helplessness.

I followed the rituals mindlessly, bowing and standing endlessly without any clue what I was supposed to chant or why I was bowing so many times.

Discovering the Real Meaning

But something powerful happened then. Those uncomfortable moments became the catalyst for diving deeper into Buddhism.

I began researching, reading, and practising sincerely. What is Dhamma? How could I find it?

I learned the true meaning behind altar offerings. Flowers symbolise impermanence, lights represent wisdom, and water stands for purity. They weren’t offered for the Buddha to consume; they were reminders for me and everyone who encountered them.

I realised how meaningful each ritual truly was. Gradually, understanding replaced embarrassment, and quiet pride took root in my heart.

I started enthusiastically sharing my newfound knowledge with relatives who had long been Buddhists, hoping to nurture greater pride in our shared identity. When there is knowledge, we can genuinely connect the Dhamma to our everyday experiences.

I was finally able to confidently tell my mocking friends about the Buddha and explain why he was genuinely THE OG enlightened LEGEND and not just a myth or legend.

Facing Loss With Confidence

Years later, when Ah Kong passed away, my perspective had completely changed. At his deathbed, I felt no fear of death. I gently chanted the Metta Sutta to him. It was a stark contrast to the sense of dread I’d felt when Ah Mah passed away.

At Ah Kong’s funeral, I participated wholeheartedly in the chants and rituals. I even managed to arrange for a kind Bhante (monastic) from Sri Lanka Ramaya to share a Dhamma talk beside Ah Kong’s coffin.

Perhaps it was too late for Ah Kong to hear the talk if he had already been reborn, but for my relatives, it was a powerful reminder that we too would pass away—and to urgently live our lives skilfully.

This time, when someone asked me questions about the Dhamma, I could confidently share the meaning behind our practices. There was no more shame—only clarity and gentle certainty.

We chanted not just for Ah Kong, but also to share merits with him and other departed beings. I burned incense, reminding myself that the fragrance of Dhamma spreads through our body, speech, and mind. I lit candles, reminding myself to illuminate my mind with wisdom instead of defilements.

It was a turning point. Buddhism stopped being a label I wanted to hide and became a truth I proudly embraced.

Encouragement for Those Still Struggling

If you’re currently feeling ashamed or hesitant about your Buddhist identity, I want you to know you’re not alone. Often, shame arises from uncertainty from not fully understanding our beliefs, and from feeling isolated without a supportive community.

My experience taught me that every question and every challenge is an invitation to dive deeper into the Dhamma.

Read more. Practice more. Find community support. As your understanding grows, confidence naturally follows.

It’s funny, really, how the shame I once felt eventually pushed me closer to the Dhamma, until I no longer doubted myself or my beliefs.

Today, I say proudly and joyfully, without hesitation:

“I’m a Buddhist.”

And it feels wonderful.

May you grow joyfully on your path.

Wise Steps:

• Turn challenging questions into opportunities to learn, much like how my friends’ mockery encouraged me to truly understand the Buddha’s teachings.
• Engage actively in rituals by learning their symbolic meanings; when I learned that flowers represent impermanence, rituals suddenly became meaningful instead of mindless.
• Share your knowledge with others to strengthen your community’s pride; as I did with my relatives, it can help others rediscover their faith too