A black kid in America - Questbridge Biographical Essay

My story

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 helped you to grow?

As a black kid in America my story was already written. I was destined for the same faith that captured small eyed black children in an unforgiving cycle that left them to fend for themselves in this world. The same cycle that told me as a child I didn't need to have my father, that I needed to be poor, that I needed to suffer the hatred that filled the eyes of many, and that I was destined for failure and my only light of success was entertaining masses on TV like a circus animal. I hoped only to escape the looming fate that came with the darkness of my skin but I failed to realize I couldn't escape who I am. I fell victim to this vicious cycle. A life controlled by the demons of a societal construct that enveloped the life of a dark skinned child in America.

I grew up in a tan colored house that sat next to a white broken lamp post with my parents and two brothers. Two hard working immigrant parents sacrificed their dreams to put us in that house. It was the house I enjoyed many Christmases in, learned how to ride a bike in, the house I loved and lost many relatives in. But I lived there long enough to see it become the house my parents fought countless hours over finances in. The same house I saw my father pack his life into a box and move out. My story began to unravel in front of me the day I saw my father pull out the driveway for the last time. My mother worked late nights to cover the income gap that my father left. As the oldest of three siblings I had to face the hard truth of maturing beyond my years. A young black kid who went from fascinating about new novels and challenging math equations to cooking meals and watching children.

I became responsible for my brother's education at home, having to teach my youngest brother how to read. We found solace in the many stories we read at night waiting for our mother to come home. We immersed ourselves in the futuristic utopias and ancient kingdoms of the few novels our mother managed to bring home every Friday night. It was the escape that we needed but it was only temporary as the night always brought its own challenges. Late night doorbell rings and eerie scratches on the window put the fear of god in our tiny hearts. What were we supposed to think? I held my brothers tight telling them that It would be okay, that this was not our reality. But deep down I didn't know if everything was going to be okay but I knew I had to become strong for them. I knew I had to fill the echoing absence that blanketed our house and become the father figure that taught boys to be men. I opened their eyes to the cruelty and hate that came with being black in America so I would never have to see them on the nightly news for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I set examples that were never set for me but I accepted the challenge if it meant my brothers would live a better story. I invested all my time into my brother's because I knew that was what a father was supposed to do.

Life became that cycle, the cycle I feared that would capture me but I never let it define me. My situation forced me to mature greatly. With maturity came the realization that I wasn't destined for one fate, that I could still chase a dream. I was able to be the role model that my brothers needed and show them how to survive this world. But I didn't want my influence to end with them. I found pride in taking leadership roles in sports,clubs, and the community. From tutoring kids in math to leading progressive discussion with my peers to playing on the basketball court, I used the same leadership skills I learned from the late nights I took care of my brothers in the real world. At school I showed many black kids just like me that they were destined for great things too and that they can change their story.

I believe everyone is born with a story whether it be the color of your skin, your environment, or your parents. But a story is meant to be changed. I want to be leader and change the narrative for black kids in America and show them that their stories can be molded to fit their dreams. A dream that should be entitled to every black child that dares to dream.

I like your writing style and your English is excellent. BUT what struck me is your victim-hood. Your have written your own story of great life and achievement, but it has been somewhat weakened by your focusing on your victimhood. How can you feel a victim in America when the most powerful man in the world was a black man selected twice as the US president? You should forget your skin color and befriend some conservative idols / become familiar with people like Candace Owens who achieved great success without falling for the progressive race / skin color hoax.

It would be better if you started this essay on a hopeful note. Rather than the gloom and doom scenario you presented, use the last part of the essay first. Show your hopefulness in terms of your future. Look towards your own ambitions and how you have managed to get yourself out of the rut that your lot in life tried to trap you in. I specifically like the last paragraph. I believe that it would work very well as the inspirational kick off for your presentation. Don't focus so much on the sad background. If you must discuss it, focus on the inspirational aspect of that event. Explain how the events of your past, your family background, and your skin color have served not to turn you into a victim, but rather, a fighter who knows that the future is what you choose to design it to be for you.