In Pakistan, my father taught at a university and people called him “professor” as a sign of respect.  He was completely unprepared for what some people would call him in Scotland.

I was just three and a half when we boarded the plane in a warm and sunny Lahore, arriving in Glasgow on a dreich December day, my mum dressed in sari and sandals.

Dad had a deep love for science and had been offered the chance to study for a PhD in chemistry at the University of Strathclyde.

The lure of the West was huge for him. He thought that in Great Britain there would be no bribery and corruption and he would be treated fairly and not discriminated against.

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In those days Britain was doing a remarkable PR job, convincing people from the Commonwealth that the roads were paved with gold in Britain, but what my parents found was snow and dog dirt.

In fact my father could also have gone to Australia.

Imagine if we had! I could have been in the TV shows Neighbours or Home and Away, or be married to Hugh Jackman.

A girl can dream. Just like my father did, wanting a better, less corrupt life for his family.

But once here, my parents found it was not only weather that left them cold. Their middle-class life in Pakistan became a distant memory, as the one-bedroom tenement flat in Govan Glasgow, became home to us all.

Both my parents were university graduates and spoke perfect English, obviously with an Asian accent.

While language was not an issue, the cultural differences were.

Respect plays a big part in the cultural life of Eastern countries, whether it be Pakistan or Japan.

My father struggled with the disrespect he encountered here: a gruelling type of bullying that so many have to endure.

It affected his mental and physical health. The stress and anxiety led to a heart attack at the age of 41.

Lubna (far right) aged rightLubna (far right) aged right (Image: Contributed)

I too was trying to find my way around the culture of Glasgow as young child, with no prior knowledge of what life would be like and no guidance from my parents either. Not their fault.

When I started primary school in Glasgow, I was very excited, putting on my school uniform of grey and white for the first time.

A little girl from Pakistan, full of hope and expectation.

However, I was not ready for what was about to happen.

I was labelled “stupid” because I couldn’t already speak English, and by people who could only speak one language.

I was sent to the back of the class to sit with other “stupid” children. Given the teacher’s bullying behaviour, they felt they had licence to pick on me for other reasons - you can guess the kind of thing.

Never one to shy away from a challenge I learned English fast. This would surely please people.

Wrong.

A whole array of other labels ensued and the one I chose to absorb was “chatterbox”.

Being bullied at school can affect your whole life. And it’s not just other children who are the bullies.

After all these years, it’s time to talk about it. My new play Chatterbox is on at the Fringe. And while it’s based on my life, lots of people will find it touches on their experience too.

Bullying comes in many forms, from many directions and does so much harm. That’s mostly for the individual, but sometimes the whole family can be affected. Labels we are given in childhood can affect us all our lives. They impact on us physically, emotionally and spiritually.

The word bullying enlists fear in people, they shy away from it, not wanting to deal with it in a positive way.

I was bullied as a naive Pakistani girl and yes it could have made me bitter but it made me stronger and more resilient. Keen to learn from my mistakes, no matter how many times I made them.

Chatterbox the play makes us think about how bullying impacted on ourselves. Does it still happen to the same extent?

One way it can be stopped is to think about our own lives, did we pick on other people when we were kids? Do we now?

And parents need to think about their own children. So often if they are confronted with evidence of their own child being a bully, they go into denial.

The reality is that there’s lots of bullying out there. As someone whose career for decades was as an NHS pharmacist, often working with marginalised groups, I’ve seen the damage it does to mental health.

My experiences and the resulting anxieties caused hurt, gave me a stammer and, like my father, contributed to a heart attack. Many had it so very, very much worse.

Lubna todayLubna today (Image: David Ho & Sandie Knudsen/Headshots Scotland/Forest Light Studios)

Bullying needs to stop. We need to talk about it openly and deal with the root issues.

The British colonised the world, taking many resources from the countries they then absorbed into the Commonwealth.

When they needed people to come live and work here, especially after the Second World War, we the people of the Commonwealth, were invited here.

However, the decision made by the politicians did not come with advice to its people on how to treat the immigrants who were invited to stay in their country.

Cultural learning is a two-way process. Yet the UK has absorbed a lot from the newly arriving cultures.

It’s great to see so many different skin tones of people who call themselves British, as evidenced in our sporting and music areas. And so many food flavours now grace our menus. The theatrical world is yet to catch up.

Britain is largely a welcoming place and those who make it not so are the minority.

And ultimately Chatterbox is a story about success. It underlines that, despite the challenges, with the right help, support and guidance, dreams can come true.

Lubna Kerr is a writer, performer and comedian based in Edinburgh. Chatterbox is her second play, following on from the successful Tickbox, and is part of a planned trilogy. Chatterbox is at Pleasance Courtyard - The Green from 31 July 31 to August 25.