Undergraduate /
"Summers in Tehran" college essay, in need of revision and opinions! [NEW]
This is my Common App Essay ("topic of your own choice")
We all break out in applause once we hear the steady stream of the sound of wheels on the ground. As the women hurriedly put on their headscarves and button up their knee-length coats, the race to see who can get out first begins. The line to the exit forms moments after the announcer reminds us to remain seated. I look around and see a common expression in the crowd, one that seems to rejoice "We're finally home!" As I step off the plane, the warm, dry wind engulfs me with the smell of dust and gasoline-an unmistakable combination. My journey has just begun.
The next thing I know I am reuniting with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. New wrinkles on my grandfather's face or a cousin who seems to have grown a foot while I was gone remind me of the year that has kept us apart; but we seem to start again just where we had left off. It's almost like the time I visit every summer is strung together like beads on a thread, the year between the weeks we're together doesn't leave a gap.
There is something about the authenticity of life in Iran, where the rich culture of thousands of years mix with the raw, open, kindness of the people. For example, in Iran, we have the custom of saying what would be translated as "Please, don't be tired," whenever we see someone doing any kind of manual work. I have been able to see things firsthand that others can only read in newspapers. For example, being able to witness the protests for the election of President Ahmadinejad, and see how brutally the government treated many who took part during the protests of summer 2009 greatly broadened my concern for global issues, and made me appreciate the rights (such as free speech) that we take for granted in the U.S.
My parents moved to the United States shortly after they got married, and they still tell me how important it was for them to make sure I was born here. Sometimes I contemplate their decision, imagining how different my life would have been I had grown up in Iran. As a first generation American, being introduced to people by my friends as the Iranian Girl left me thinking; "I was born right here in America just like you!" and yet when my cousins in Iran referred to me as The American I shot back with "My parents are from here and I can speak Farsi just as fluently as you can!" Feeling like a part of me was a foreigner in the U.S and only a visitor in Iran left me confused. Over the years this feeling of confusion has morphed into pride. I see my position as one of my greatest assets because I can see things from two viewpoints while others only have one.
I now openly tell people that I spend my summers in 'that country next to Iraq.' Usually people are concerned that I go to Iran, making comments such as "There's war going on there and it's so unsafe!" Yes, Iran is a third world country surrounded by countries in war, but that doesn't mean we are dodging bullets and collecting drinking water from the river. Now I understand how the media can misinform us, and I rather go out and see for myself than to just gulp down what I see on T.V. This mindset has given me the drive to venture to places such as South Africa, where many people assume to be 'unsafe.' Although sometimes it can be frustrating to hear other peoples arrogance on what they think of life in foreign countries (such as the middle east) I know it is only because they have not had the exposure I've been privileged enough to have. This privilege also comes with an obligation, which is to educate everyone I know about my background, in hopes of shattering their false image. This has been especially true after 9/11, soon after which Iran's name was reduced to The Axis of Evil. It's truly rewarding now to hear my friends tell me they would love to come to Iran with me one summer, because I know I have been able to give them a little bit of my perspective.
Having the chance to be a part of a different culture has also given be greater respect for people and their different cultures too. My grandfather passed away when I was very young and I remember going to visit my grandfather's grave one summer when I was ten and having no idea what to do-I felt like the weird one because I didn't know the specifics of the custom. The new traditions and customs I encounter every year have had a profound effect on how I see others when I returned back to the U.S. Now I meet new people and know if they speak broken English it doesn't mean they are uneducated and if they have exotic traditions and practices (such as wearing a headscarf as a Muslim) it doesn't mean they're weird. One day I imagine that I will give back to the country that has given so much to me, and I know whatever I become I want to spend some of my life in Iran.
Before I know it my summer in Iran is over, another bead slips down the thread and I am back in Boston. When I add up the weeks I have spent in Tehran, I come to realize that I've spent almost two years of my life living in a different world. Much of who I am now, or who I will ever be is the products of the push and pull between my two intertwining lives; one as an American living in New England and the other as an Iranian from Tehran.
