Scholarship / Something to be changed about my community [2]

"If you could change one thing about your community, what would it be and why?" (500 words)

"What makes you happy?" Holding my camera, a small notebook, and a pen, I asked to the pair of eyes in front of me.
"What makes me happy?" They hesitated. "Knowing that my family will see the benefits of my sweat."
Going around the streets gathering courage to ask strangers about their lives became a common, yet hard, practice during summer.
When the opportunity of participating at an anti-violence program as a student photographer was given to me, I couldn't hide my excitement. I was going to be part of a movement that aimed to portray a brighter side of my community.

I had to approach passersby, interview them, and capture their essence through a lens.
Interacting with my surroundings has never been an easy task to me; interacting with the people that didn't fall into the category of "my surroundings" was even harder. I was afraid of paralyzing in the middle of a greeting or even of asking something that would offend my interviewee. Doubts seized my mind, but that was something I overcame every time a warm expression greeted mine.

"Your eyes, young lady, scream for hope." The old man sitting in a desolated bank said.

I was part of the voices that were constantly silenced by stereotypes, and the only way something was going to change was if I help to characterize who people really were. The old man who sits every morning at the park by his own, he's a veteran who hasn't gave up the fight. The lady selling ice cream around the corner, she left her native country four years ago, aiming to improve her constraint of resources. The woman collecting empty bottles to make some profit, she has the years over her shoulders, but her condition doesn't stop the desire to prosper one step at a time. Little by little, I encouraged myself and conquered my fears; what motivated me was more powerful than the worst scenarios I pictured on my mind.

Thanks to the exposure of one of my biggest weaknesses, I was able to see beyond the negative connotations my community was associated with. It is more than high poverty and delinquency rates, more than individuals that are seen as statistics.

It is about the elders' look in the eyes, the smile the lady selling ice cream greeted people with, the person collecting bottles to recycle them and make some profit, they have a story to tell, a story that often remains untold.

Perceptions of people and places are something that can be overturned with time and experience. Through a lens, from different angles, things can be perceived differently even for the most critical eye. Brownsville is a community where people who dream reside, where the desire to surpass themselves as individuals is alive. Everyone is coexisting, attempting to catch a glance of their personalized version of success.

Brownsville might be sank in a sea of bad perceptions, but there's people trying to make it float.

If there's something I could change about my community, it would be the way it's perceived.

Scholarship / 'The Sun and the Sea' - My parents have taught me not to give up; QuestBridge [5]

"We are interested in learning more about you and the context in which you have grown up, formed your aspirations, and accomplished your academic successes.

Please describe the factors and challenges that have most shaped your personal life and aspirations. How have these factors caused you to grow?" (800 word limit)

I never appreciated the way the Sun and the sea seemed to be following me. Spending 16 years living on an island taught me not to take anything for granted.

On a hot winter afternoon, while I was walking on a street that felt endless, I made eye contact with a woman that who appeared to be mentally ill.) Coming from a third world country, it is normal to see people in not the best conditions on the streets by their own. I wasn't conscious of what I was doing, and neither was she. We held eye contact for less than four seconds, enough to trigger a reaction. The woman kept walking towards me and as she passed, she spat on me. The shock didn't last too long and luckily, she continued on her unknown path. I took a piece of paper from the notebook I was carrying, and tried to wipe out the substance temporarily, until I got home. My mind was reproducing the scene over and over again, asking questions that would never be answered. Maybe she was sick of how society was constantly avoiding the facts. I saw in her eyes a mad person, one consumed with disgust over what her eyes were contemplating. To try to decipher her perspective on the situation seemed pointless then; I was never going to know the truth from the look of her eyes. I didn't know what exactly happened or why, I just wanted to do something about it.

As cliché as it may seem, my parents have taught me not to give up on what I believe, just the same as they have taught me how to be a pragmatic person. Since that afternoon I started to view my surroundings with a different eye. In my community, negligence was all over the place; I started an inane research about the environmental and social factors that may impact people's behaviour and mental health such as hardships, calamities... in the blink of an eye I started to love people's nature, without necessarily following a humanist philosophy.

Reality finally popped the bubble I was creating. My family decided to leave the country and pursue their own version of the American dream. I was terrified of the big change; I was leaving my friends, my sister and the environment I was used to. Suddenly I was surrounded by a new atmosphere, language, culture. The idea of attending a new school in the middle of my junior year was overwhelming. I have a tendency of initially adopting a defeatist attitude to situations that overwhelm me; my mind was filled with negative thoughts, reminding myself the alternatives I had in my native country. I was experimenting with the nausea Sartre established in his novel. The language was a barrier I thought I was never going to break. The turbulent emotions I was having that hot winter afternoon of the encounter with the deranged woman were again flashing in front of my eyes. I didn't know what was going on or why; I just remembered her eyes and what I interpreted as disgust. I had two options: rely on the simulated alternatives I was creating or make lemonade out of lemons.

After my encounter with that woman, a new aspiration woke up within me. For a moment I thought that my skin was the one that was disseminating sparks throughout the place.

I never appreciated the way the sun and the sea seemed to be following me. However, once I gained the notion of the situation I was finding myself being involved in, I started to stand up firmly for the things I believed.

I face a constant wrestle with my reclusive and defeatist side. Spending 16 years living on an island taught me not to take everything for granted; but if there's something I can affirm, it is that staring blankly at the ceiling will not yield the answers to any questions.

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I think I will reduce this to trash due ambiguity.
Any thoughts? Your help would be appreciated!