mmigombo
Dec 22, 2013
Undergraduate / Detesting Poetry - UNC (Curiosity led me to somewhere I didn't expect) [2]
This is my UNC supplement essay. Prompt: Tell us about a time your curiosity led you to somewhere you did not expect.
Growing up I detested poetry. In school when we did the annual poetry unit, I would reluctantly participate in the writing of haiku after haiku. Or use the "roses are red" cop-out when encouraged to be creative. Part of the reason for my dislike of poetry came from my inability to express myself with words. Growing up in a strict African family that abided by stringent gender roles, I was taught and trained to always be silent, unless spoken too. Taught to be a quiet observer that catered to the feelings of others, I began to lose my voice. For a very long time, I went about life passively, scared to make any ripple, no matter how small, in everything I did. I shrunk inwardly, too scared to give voice to the inquisitive mind, I held inside.
Then about two years ago my entire attitude changed. While walking in the downtown Boston area with my older sister, we happened upon Brookline Booksmith; A popular bookstore that became my haven for the duration of my visit in Boston. While browsing the shelves for the latest in fantasy novels, I started to hear laughter, cheers, and the recurring symphony of snapping. Like most human beings, I tentatively followed the noise to see what all the fuss was about. It was a poetry slam. So of course, being prejudiced to the poetry that agonized my childhood I slowly started to back out of the room. However, just as the next poet took the stage, we made eye contact. I awkwardly stood by the door waiting for her to break it so I could make my escape. She never did. So I stayed and listened, and while I listened my demeanor changed. With every careful delivery of every word she cut to my core. She spoke of things that I had not the courage to ever mutter, and unleashed the entirety of years worth's of bottled up emotions in the meager time of two minutes.
Her name was Sarah Kay, and she helped me discover spoken word. I know it's corny, but I went home a new person. Slowly but surely, I started to finally find my voice. No longer did I constantly stifle my emotions, instead of letting them blatantly run their course. I spoke up more, not only for myself, but for others around me. I started to question the things I was terrified of the most, such as: Why do I have to have an arranged marriage? Why am I only allowed to go to school for nursing? By finally using my words, I began to claim my individuality, and life back. I began to write poetry.
It's funny how the things we detested the most, often have the greatest influence on us. Next week I'm participating in my first open mike event.
This is my UNC supplement essay. Prompt: Tell us about a time your curiosity led you to somewhere you did not expect.
Growing up I detested poetry. In school when we did the annual poetry unit, I would reluctantly participate in the writing of haiku after haiku. Or use the "roses are red" cop-out when encouraged to be creative. Part of the reason for my dislike of poetry came from my inability to express myself with words. Growing up in a strict African family that abided by stringent gender roles, I was taught and trained to always be silent, unless spoken too. Taught to be a quiet observer that catered to the feelings of others, I began to lose my voice. For a very long time, I went about life passively, scared to make any ripple, no matter how small, in everything I did. I shrunk inwardly, too scared to give voice to the inquisitive mind, I held inside.
Then about two years ago my entire attitude changed. While walking in the downtown Boston area with my older sister, we happened upon Brookline Booksmith; A popular bookstore that became my haven for the duration of my visit in Boston. While browsing the shelves for the latest in fantasy novels, I started to hear laughter, cheers, and the recurring symphony of snapping. Like most human beings, I tentatively followed the noise to see what all the fuss was about. It was a poetry slam. So of course, being prejudiced to the poetry that agonized my childhood I slowly started to back out of the room. However, just as the next poet took the stage, we made eye contact. I awkwardly stood by the door waiting for her to break it so I could make my escape. She never did. So I stayed and listened, and while I listened my demeanor changed. With every careful delivery of every word she cut to my core. She spoke of things that I had not the courage to ever mutter, and unleashed the entirety of years worth's of bottled up emotions in the meager time of two minutes.
Her name was Sarah Kay, and she helped me discover spoken word. I know it's corny, but I went home a new person. Slowly but surely, I started to finally find my voice. No longer did I constantly stifle my emotions, instead of letting them blatantly run their course. I spoke up more, not only for myself, but for others around me. I started to question the things I was terrified of the most, such as: Why do I have to have an arranged marriage? Why am I only allowed to go to school for nursing? By finally using my words, I began to claim my individuality, and life back. I began to write poetry.
It's funny how the things we detested the most, often have the greatest influence on us. Next week I'm participating in my first open mike event.