Hi,
I'm new on this forum so I will follow the rules of posting a thread to the best of my abilities.
This is about the Common App Essay. I wrote something that really inspires me and, I think, shows what motivates me. However, I received different opinions on it, some of them flattering my writing skills, but some thought I should completely change the topic.
Please help with this dilemma! (I replaced my name in the essay with "MYNAME" and the name of a city with "CITY X" just for privacy)
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.
Chain Breaker
Everyone, from kids to elderly, called her Mmi Hania. Mmi is "mother" in Darija, and Hania is an Arab name that stands for tranquility and peacefulness. Tranquil and peaceful is exactly how she deserved to be when it was time to draw her last breath, which sadly was not the case. Mee-ha-nee-ya... It sounds like an onomatopoeia, that of a cheerful crowd or of tandem bungee-jumpers. It sounds like her vibrant laugh and people's simultaneous reactions to her scandalous jokes. She loved telling me about how she laughed at all my parents' suggestions of names for me and asserted: "MYNAME - there is no way to contort it, and it's so rare she will be the only MYNAME around... loved, envied, stubborn and resolute". She gave me my name; moreover, she gave me my indentity. "Plus, no one will ask MYNAME who? nor need to pronounce that absurd last name of yours", she adds, mocking my dad.
Mmi Hania is my deceased grandmother: a wonderful soul, drained by a lifetime of struggle with patriarchy, abuse, and injustice. Surprisingly, her worries never kept her from joking about absolutely everything. Her unmissable smile covered for her heavy, arcane blue-green eyes.
In the morning of December 20th, 2011, my heart burnt as if a colony of bees took turn to boisterously sting it in the same spot in less than two seconds. My friend and I were playing charades during "recess". As I was acting out the word "poison", my "poisened" face expression froze, and was replaced with a distressed frown. I ran to the administration, called my dad, and as I perhaps empathically expected: "She's gone", he said. I dropped the phone, and my knees dropped me.
Mmi Hania may have had diabetes, myelopathy, and in her last months alive, liver cancer due to eight years of not-so-miraculous prescription drugs, but these were merely the medically diagnosed causes. What wore her out were bygone, overlapping incidents and an inhumane lifestyle that damaged her both mentally and physically.
I had never truly witnessed death before. When my paternal grandfather passed away, I was so young. After the funeral, we had to go back home from CITY X which I loved, so I said: "Why can't we wait until Lalla (my grandmother) dies?". I was only three years old. This time, not only did I experience loss, but I also witnessed an impregnable wall fall down: I saw my mother, the strongest person I know, collapsing on the floor, her face draining in tears.
At that moment, it hit me: my mother was crawling down the same path that led to Mmi Hania's internal deterioration. My mother is educated and an educator. She raised us in the most irreproachable manner, and kept our family together despite all dilemmas. However, she is still dealing with the same manipulative, self-centered "men of the family" and with her "condemnation" for being an average woman in this society.
That day, I decided I will not stand for twenty hours a day in the kitchen to serve fully-capable humans. I will not get yelled at nor beaten up. My dignity will not be thrown in mud, and my honor will not be stepped on. My rights will be protected, and my life will be run by my own decisions and needs. I will not be financially nor socially dependant on anyone.
When I was on a Student Ambassador exchange program in the United States, I met Karen, a science of mind practitioner. She was Mmi Hania's age, only healthier and happier. After she read my astrological chart, she said: "You were born to heal the seven past generations and the seven generations to come". I want to break the chain that condemned women in my family, to relieve the wounds of the long gone unresting souls watching over me, and to insure the well-being of those to come.
I'm new on this forum so I will follow the rules of posting a thread to the best of my abilities.
This is about the Common App Essay. I wrote something that really inspires me and, I think, shows what motivates me. However, I received different opinions on it, some of them flattering my writing skills, but some thought I should completely change the topic.
Please help with this dilemma! (I replaced my name in the essay with "MYNAME" and the name of a city with "CITY X" just for privacy)
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.
Chain Breaker
Everyone, from kids to elderly, called her Mmi Hania. Mmi is "mother" in Darija, and Hania is an Arab name that stands for tranquility and peacefulness. Tranquil and peaceful is exactly how she deserved to be when it was time to draw her last breath, which sadly was not the case. Mee-ha-nee-ya... It sounds like an onomatopoeia, that of a cheerful crowd or of tandem bungee-jumpers. It sounds like her vibrant laugh and people's simultaneous reactions to her scandalous jokes. She loved telling me about how she laughed at all my parents' suggestions of names for me and asserted: "MYNAME - there is no way to contort it, and it's so rare she will be the only MYNAME around... loved, envied, stubborn and resolute". She gave me my name; moreover, she gave me my indentity. "Plus, no one will ask MYNAME who? nor need to pronounce that absurd last name of yours", she adds, mocking my dad.
Mmi Hania is my deceased grandmother: a wonderful soul, drained by a lifetime of struggle with patriarchy, abuse, and injustice. Surprisingly, her worries never kept her from joking about absolutely everything. Her unmissable smile covered for her heavy, arcane blue-green eyes.
In the morning of December 20th, 2011, my heart burnt as if a colony of bees took turn to boisterously sting it in the same spot in less than two seconds. My friend and I were playing charades during "recess". As I was acting out the word "poison", my "poisened" face expression froze, and was replaced with a distressed frown. I ran to the administration, called my dad, and as I perhaps empathically expected: "She's gone", he said. I dropped the phone, and my knees dropped me.
Mmi Hania may have had diabetes, myelopathy, and in her last months alive, liver cancer due to eight years of not-so-miraculous prescription drugs, but these were merely the medically diagnosed causes. What wore her out were bygone, overlapping incidents and an inhumane lifestyle that damaged her both mentally and physically.
I had never truly witnessed death before. When my paternal grandfather passed away, I was so young. After the funeral, we had to go back home from CITY X which I loved, so I said: "Why can't we wait until Lalla (my grandmother) dies?". I was only three years old. This time, not only did I experience loss, but I also witnessed an impregnable wall fall down: I saw my mother, the strongest person I know, collapsing on the floor, her face draining in tears.
At that moment, it hit me: my mother was crawling down the same path that led to Mmi Hania's internal deterioration. My mother is educated and an educator. She raised us in the most irreproachable manner, and kept our family together despite all dilemmas. However, she is still dealing with the same manipulative, self-centered "men of the family" and with her "condemnation" for being an average woman in this society.
That day, I decided I will not stand for twenty hours a day in the kitchen to serve fully-capable humans. I will not get yelled at nor beaten up. My dignity will not be thrown in mud, and my honor will not be stepped on. My rights will be protected, and my life will be run by my own decisions and needs. I will not be financially nor socially dependant on anyone.
When I was on a Student Ambassador exchange program in the United States, I met Karen, a science of mind practitioner. She was Mmi Hania's age, only healthier and happier. After she read my astrological chart, she said: "You were born to heal the seven past generations and the seven generations to come". I want to break the chain that condemned women in my family, to relieve the wounds of the long gone unresting souls watching over me, and to insure the well-being of those to come.