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
Opening in amazement, my eyes confirmed the excitement I held myself. My hands, now beautifully dark, felt renewed from the fluid paint that flowed from this makeshift plastic instrument. The residue left behind stains in the hand of an intense brown and ambient red hue, making the hand more than simply a hand: a work of art. Mehndi, a decorative paint and a symbol of thousands of years of tradition and culture, is normally worn by women at weddings. And that day, at my sister's wedding, I beautiful mehndi was worn by me in celebration.
The mehndi on my sister defines the culture we come from. Being the bride, she wore the most mehndi. Yet, she does not embody the very culture that was inked on to her hands. She is often the very opposite: outgoing, independent, and a leading figure in the household. Out of respect for our parents, she follows all the traditions that she does not fully embrace. At the age of nineteen, my parents arranged her marriage. Everything was put on hold in her life: education, friends, and even family.
Fast forward ten years from that wedding and she is now the mother of my two beautiful nephews. Fast forward ten years from that wedding and I am seventeen. And fast forward ten years from that wedding, and so much in my family has changed. My married sister received a college degree after spending years attending college part time. My other sister did not get an arranged marriage. Instead my oldest sister helped her get through community college and, now, she is on her last semester at Rutgers. She did the same for my brother, who she convinced to not pursue a life of manual labor. As time grows, my appreciation for her grows exponentially.
My family is big. The household consists of thirteen people. My dad lives in Northern New Jersey for work and visits weekly. But there was a time when he was home for the majority of the year. My parents fought daily. My dad lost his job. Money is always the problem. Income for that year was inadequate to buy food, pay our bills, or even to pay our school tuition. Hoping for change, saying we can get through this, holding a smile became routine.
But that false smile faded when we learned that my mother might have cancer. For some months my mother and sisters were in and out of hospital while I was at home taking care of my little brother and nephews. After months of testing, we found out that she suffered from a benign ganglion cyst in her leg and needed surgery. Following the procedure, she had difficulty walking. Seeing her in pain everyday not only kept me from smiling but also broke a piece of my heart.
The struggles of an immigrant family in the USA are more than just a burden. They define your everyday life. We fight. We separate. But, we come together through these everyday struggles. My dad works hard. My eldest brother moved away after a dispute at home. I don't know where he is. These are things I wish I could change. I have learned that my family is my highest priority. I have always thought about why I care so much for my family. Am I hardwired since birth to care for them? After much thought, I care for my family because we have gone through so much together and will stick together. Unlike the mehndi that we wear at weddings, my family will not fade away after a few washings.
Opening in amazement, my eyes confirmed the excitement I held myself. My hands, now beautifully dark, felt renewed from the fluid paint that flowed from this makeshift plastic instrument. The residue left behind stains in the hand of an intense brown and ambient red hue, making the hand more than simply a hand: a work of art. Mehndi, a decorative paint and a symbol of thousands of years of tradition and culture, is normally worn by women at weddings. And that day, at my sister's wedding, I beautiful mehndi was worn by me in celebration.
The mehndi on my sister defines the culture we come from. Being the bride, she wore the most mehndi. Yet, she does not embody the very culture that was inked on to her hands. She is often the very opposite: outgoing, independent, and a leading figure in the household. Out of respect for our parents, she follows all the traditions that she does not fully embrace. At the age of nineteen, my parents arranged her marriage. Everything was put on hold in her life: education, friends, and even family.
Fast forward ten years from that wedding and she is now the mother of my two beautiful nephews. Fast forward ten years from that wedding and I am seventeen. And fast forward ten years from that wedding, and so much in my family has changed. My married sister received a college degree after spending years attending college part time. My other sister did not get an arranged marriage. Instead my oldest sister helped her get through community college and, now, she is on her last semester at Rutgers. She did the same for my brother, who she convinced to not pursue a life of manual labor. As time grows, my appreciation for her grows exponentially.
My family is big. The household consists of thirteen people. My dad lives in Northern New Jersey for work and visits weekly. But there was a time when he was home for the majority of the year. My parents fought daily. My dad lost his job. Money is always the problem. Income for that year was inadequate to buy food, pay our bills, or even to pay our school tuition. Hoping for change, saying we can get through this, holding a smile became routine.
But that false smile faded when we learned that my mother might have cancer. For some months my mother and sisters were in and out of hospital while I was at home taking care of my little brother and nephews. After months of testing, we found out that she suffered from a benign ganglion cyst in her leg and needed surgery. Following the procedure, she had difficulty walking. Seeing her in pain everyday not only kept me from smiling but also broke a piece of my heart.
The struggles of an immigrant family in the USA are more than just a burden. They define your everyday life. We fight. We separate. But, we come together through these everyday struggles. My dad works hard. My eldest brother moved away after a dispute at home. I don't know where he is. These are things I wish I could change. I have learned that my family is my highest priority. I have always thought about why I care so much for my family. Am I hardwired since birth to care for them? After much thought, I care for my family because we have gone through so much together and will stick together. Unlike the mehndi that we wear at weddings, my family will not fade away after a few washings.
