Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
Not afraid, freed.
Daddy once wrote on my noteboard with his uncanny arabic manuscript handwriting: "Fear will not keep you from dying, but it will keep you from living". I'm no coward but I'm no stranger to fear either; fear grew in me unvoluntarily. Between living with an authoritarian older brother and witnessing the damaging effects of partriarchy on my mother's and my grandmother's upbringing, I did not know where I stood nor where to stand. I didn't understand inequality, abuse, and crimes. Truth be told, I still don't. "Don't go out alone", "don't wear that", they said. "It is not safe". Fear is disabling. I was scared to be left alone with an older man. I was scared when I heard steps behind me. I was scared to exist outside of my shelters: home and school. Ironically, when I received a grant to travel 6000 miles away from them, for 365 days, I unreluctantly decided to go.
A few years earlier, I still thought that "two" was pronounced "t-wooh". Then, I went from watching subtitled american TV shows to begging my drama teacher to allow improvisations in English. My tongue, my voice chords, and every bit of me were fascinated by the tones and flexibility of the language, and were eager to speak it. It was no longer time to be afraid, it was time to be freed.
I was no longer Khalil's little sister; I was *mynamehere*, the Moroccan Student Ambassador. At first, I didn't feel like anything more than an estranged little fish in a big tank. In reality, I was a big fish transferred from a minuscule tank to an undiscovered sea, one I now feel I belong to.
The challenges I was expected to face were culture shock, socialization, adaptation to the host family...etc. However, my only challenge was the feeling of unsafety that was rooted in me. I refused to walk home after dark after dance or theatre rehearsals, or to ride my bike side by side to speeding cars. Little did I know, these activities were to unchain my mind and body. It upset my host mom when I asked my friends to drive me. "You're a strong, independant woman", she always told me, "acknowledge it and be it".
She was right. Little by little, I pushed away all obstacles. I was no longer afraid of the man walking behind me; we exchanged greetings every morning. I no longer hid my phone; my iPod nano hung to my shirt while I went jogging. I befriended the bus drivers, and passed on my friends' offers for rides. In fact, I flew accross the United States, toured the East Coast, climbed a mountain, and jumped off a 35 feet high "Leap of Faith". Through it all, I did feel safe.
Everytime I biked up a hill, in my mind I climbed up one step farther from submission. Everytime I biked down a hill, in my mind I let go of all the oppressive memories, and welcomed a feeling that I long for the day women all over the world will experience. The fresh oxygen traveling to my lungs and through my cells spoke positive thoughts to my mind and heart. From that point on, everything I did was twice more enjoyable than it used to be. Every dance routine I perfected was another fight I won for all the women who are only allowed to sing quietly in their kitchens, and every spotlight that hit me as I stood on the masonite stage floor in the opera-size auditorium, was a statement that I was *mynameagain*, the Student Ambassador, the "strong, independant (young) woman", who has made the decision to live and not to fear.
After all, as written in a red marker on my noteboard, "fear will keep you from living", and may I add, education and enriching experiences will teach you how to.
Not afraid, freed.
Daddy once wrote on my noteboard with his uncanny arabic manuscript handwriting: "Fear will not keep you from dying, but it will keep you from living". I'm no coward but I'm no stranger to fear either; fear grew in me unvoluntarily. Between living with an authoritarian older brother and witnessing the damaging effects of partriarchy on my mother's and my grandmother's upbringing, I did not know where I stood nor where to stand. I didn't understand inequality, abuse, and crimes. Truth be told, I still don't. "Don't go out alone", "don't wear that", they said. "It is not safe". Fear is disabling. I was scared to be left alone with an older man. I was scared when I heard steps behind me. I was scared to exist outside of my shelters: home and school. Ironically, when I received a grant to travel 6000 miles away from them, for 365 days, I unreluctantly decided to go.
A few years earlier, I still thought that "two" was pronounced "t-wooh". Then, I went from watching subtitled american TV shows to begging my drama teacher to allow improvisations in English. My tongue, my voice chords, and every bit of me were fascinated by the tones and flexibility of the language, and were eager to speak it. It was no longer time to be afraid, it was time to be freed.
I was no longer Khalil's little sister; I was *mynamehere*, the Moroccan Student Ambassador. At first, I didn't feel like anything more than an estranged little fish in a big tank. In reality, I was a big fish transferred from a minuscule tank to an undiscovered sea, one I now feel I belong to.
The challenges I was expected to face were culture shock, socialization, adaptation to the host family...etc. However, my only challenge was the feeling of unsafety that was rooted in me. I refused to walk home after dark after dance or theatre rehearsals, or to ride my bike side by side to speeding cars. Little did I know, these activities were to unchain my mind and body. It upset my host mom when I asked my friends to drive me. "You're a strong, independant woman", she always told me, "acknowledge it and be it".
She was right. Little by little, I pushed away all obstacles. I was no longer afraid of the man walking behind me; we exchanged greetings every morning. I no longer hid my phone; my iPod nano hung to my shirt while I went jogging. I befriended the bus drivers, and passed on my friends' offers for rides. In fact, I flew accross the United States, toured the East Coast, climbed a mountain, and jumped off a 35 feet high "Leap of Faith". Through it all, I did feel safe.
Everytime I biked up a hill, in my mind I climbed up one step farther from submission. Everytime I biked down a hill, in my mind I let go of all the oppressive memories, and welcomed a feeling that I long for the day women all over the world will experience. The fresh oxygen traveling to my lungs and through my cells spoke positive thoughts to my mind and heart. From that point on, everything I did was twice more enjoyable than it used to be. Every dance routine I perfected was another fight I won for all the women who are only allowed to sing quietly in their kitchens, and every spotlight that hit me as I stood on the masonite stage floor in the opera-size auditorium, was a statement that I was *mynameagain*, the Student Ambassador, the "strong, independant (young) woman", who has made the decision to live and not to fear.
After all, as written in a red marker on my noteboard, "fear will keep you from living", and may I add, education and enriching experiences will teach you how to.