Scholarship / I did not have an American dream; QuestBridge Scholarship / Biographical essay [11]

"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)

When I landed on the United States for the first time, there was one thing prowling in my mind: the whereabouts of my guitar. When my mom, my younger brother, and I were claiming our baggage, I saw no traces of my guitar. I was standing in front of the baggage claim section waiting for it to appear, but I knew I had to ask an employee sooner or later.

As a native Spanish speaker, I never had to hold a conversation in another language. Although I had taken English classes prior my parents' attempt to follow the American dream, everything was different once I realized the situation: I was in a country where eighty percent of the population spoke English. I had to speak English.

I've been teaching myself how to play the guitar since I received it as a present on my fifteenth birthday. I dealt with frustration every time I broke one of the strings and even when I didn't hit the right chord. At the end of a long practice section, my fingers' soreness fulfilled me with satisfaction. However, when more experienced guitarists asked me to play with them, I tended to avoid the contact with the instrument with the excuse of being left-handed. At that moment at the airport, I had no choice: if I wanted my guitar back, I had to break the existent language barrier.

That was the first time I felt anxiety accumulating all at once. Nervousness over claiming part of your baggage in an airport can be seen as trite, but for me it was a huge step. I was embracing a reality I had denied for weeks: I was leaving the only place I had known for sixteen years, the Dominican Republic. A change was going to be produced whether I was ready or not. My family spent twenty years with the absence of my dad, moving to the United States meant the beginning of a new life as a family. To avoid the situation wasn't part of the plans, but it was a tempting option for my defeatist side. That day at the airport, I ended up holding my guitar and an apprehensive sentiment against my skin.

The idea of attending to a new school in the middle of my junior year while facing an unknown location, dialect, and culture, was paralyzing. I was terrified with the picture as a whole. I've been facing and accepting these changes little by little. Sometimes I found myself creating alternatives to the situation I was involved into, asking questions that will end up on the same path: nowhere. "What if I had stayed?" "How would I feel?" "How am I feeling now?"

How was I feeling?
My family and I saw the end of the winter and the beginning of the spring while staying at a small studio. We had calefaction problems; it was a really cold winter, especially for us, who weren't used to anything below seventy five degrees. My brother and I slept in the living room; there wasn't enough space for our belongings. I didn't complain, because I knew it wasn't going to change reality.

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. I assimilated the situation, and realized I had two options: I could let the circumstances overwhelm me, creating a deeper state of pessimism in my persona, or I could take advantage of the situation, encourage my optimism. I did not have an American dream, but I was sharing my family's desires. My brother and I were given the opportunity they never had, and I could not hurl away their efforts.

I face a constant wrestle with my reclusive and defeatist side. Spending sixteen years living on an island taught me not to take everything for granted; I grew nonchalantly toward the things we could not afford, and the fact that the place we lived in was literally falling apart; I was determined to dash the language barrier, to embrace my accent, to stand up firmly for the things I believe.

If there's something I can affirm, it is that staring blankly at the ceiling will not yield the answers to any questions. If the strings of the guitar are never altered, I will never play.