Please help me finalize this and critique it. It is currently 560 words (exactly one page)-should it be shorter or longer?
(Topic of my choice)
I see the world through two lenses on a daily basis. I live in a town filled with lavish clothing boutiques, pizza parlors and an aesthetically appealing town center, but I live in a home of many prayer rugs, exotic and sometimes spicy food, with books and newspapers sprawled out on the kitchen table in Bengali calligraphy. In a homogenous society such as Fairfield, CT, my culture and traditions are sometimes looked upon with a confused face. "How do you manage to fast for 30 days?", "You are from Bangla-what? Where's that?", "How do you pronounce your name?" are some of the questions I am asked by people I meet here. I answer their questions as best as I can, but I get that feeling that they can't fathom my life on an appreciative level. I know for a fact that a conforming society has great leverage over my choices, my personal style, and my behavior; but I have been making strides towards making the best out the two worlds I live in.
The other day my parents and I attended a Bengali picnic in a nearby town that my father's friend put together; although I initially resisted going with my parents, being at that picnic was a good decision. The minute I stepped onto Seaside Park in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I saw men and women of my nationality deeply engaged in conversation and the scent of hot chicken tandoori was tickling my nose. My father went over to his two friends to, and I followed; I said my Salaams and listened to what my father and his friends talked about which included jobs, home renovations, and politics in Bangladesh. When I was talking to my father's friend he took me aside and told me this: "We have done so much, and now we are passing this job on to you, you kids are growing up now and have to stay together". What he meant was that his generation was becoming old and he depended on younger people like me to make sure our Bengali community would not dissipate. After that conversation I sat down contemplating what the man said to me while eating some chicken biryani. Our constant exposure to the omnipotent MTV and Abercrombie and Fitch environment is mutating our younger generation in a way that favors congruence and accession while disregarding diversity; this sort of behavior is alienating us from our origins. Get-togethers like this were against that and reinforced the importance of kinship within culture. I played soccer with family friends and their little kids that I didn't even know who only spoke Syhleti to me, almost coercing me to relearn my parent's language which is spoken so casually at home. It was the day where I rekindled a cultural flame, habitually smoldered by a desire to fit in with my hometown.
This incredibly vibrant culture which I have been born into is complemented by the life I enjoy with my friends in school: we enjoy listening to The Police or Michael Jackson; we all compete against each other in pick-up games of ultimate Frisbee or soccer; and we all laugh hysterically while watching SpongeBob SquarePants, despite it being a show for third graders. But the significance of this is that now I really know who I am; growing up in a uniform town with a youth culture based on conformity and pleasing the crowd, I tried to forget my culture at home because I was surrounded by people that laughed at me or didn't understand my differences from them. After going through such culturally renewing experiences such as this picnic I realized that my cultural background is something I should be proud to have rather than stow away; it taught how to resist conforming to this posh, rich and famous, upper class lifestyle that is prevalent in my town. Back then I responded to questions about my culture with embarrassment; now I can discuss various aspects of my culture nonchalantly.
Nearing the end of my K-12 education, I finally feel in place with the duality of my life. Living in this juxtaposition of upper class American life with Bengali/Islamic accents has proved a tough challenge to me, but it has been a significant learning experience also; my views towards other people and events in the world is a culmination of my opinions and an understanding and appreciation of their experiences and personal histories that may be different from mine. Because the bottom line is our world needs this diversity and appreciation for it; people of many races, upbringings and setbacks such as Asperger's syndrome or Autism have made significant contributions in the realms of music and arts, business, science, technology and government. That specific thought makes me proud of the unique people I see because they all have something different to bring to the table; and with my multi-faceted life, it is very easy to see that. I have managed to establish equilibrium between the two worlds that I live in, and I hope this special blend continues to stay within me.
(Topic of my choice)
I see the world through two lenses on a daily basis. I live in a town filled with lavish clothing boutiques, pizza parlors and an aesthetically appealing town center, but I live in a home of many prayer rugs, exotic and sometimes spicy food, with books and newspapers sprawled out on the kitchen table in Bengali calligraphy. In a homogenous society such as Fairfield, CT, my culture and traditions are sometimes looked upon with a confused face. "How do you manage to fast for 30 days?", "You are from Bangla-what? Where's that?", "How do you pronounce your name?" are some of the questions I am asked by people I meet here. I answer their questions as best as I can, but I get that feeling that they can't fathom my life on an appreciative level. I know for a fact that a conforming society has great leverage over my choices, my personal style, and my behavior; but I have been making strides towards making the best out the two worlds I live in.
The other day my parents and I attended a Bengali picnic in a nearby town that my father's friend put together; although I initially resisted going with my parents, being at that picnic was a good decision. The minute I stepped onto Seaside Park in Bridgeport, Connecticut, I saw men and women of my nationality deeply engaged in conversation and the scent of hot chicken tandoori was tickling my nose. My father went over to his two friends to, and I followed; I said my Salaams and listened to what my father and his friends talked about which included jobs, home renovations, and politics in Bangladesh. When I was talking to my father's friend he took me aside and told me this: "We have done so much, and now we are passing this job on to you, you kids are growing up now and have to stay together". What he meant was that his generation was becoming old and he depended on younger people like me to make sure our Bengali community would not dissipate. After that conversation I sat down contemplating what the man said to me while eating some chicken biryani. Our constant exposure to the omnipotent MTV and Abercrombie and Fitch environment is mutating our younger generation in a way that favors congruence and accession while disregarding diversity; this sort of behavior is alienating us from our origins. Get-togethers like this were against that and reinforced the importance of kinship within culture. I played soccer with family friends and their little kids that I didn't even know who only spoke Syhleti to me, almost coercing me to relearn my parent's language which is spoken so casually at home. It was the day where I rekindled a cultural flame, habitually smoldered by a desire to fit in with my hometown.
This incredibly vibrant culture which I have been born into is complemented by the life I enjoy with my friends in school: we enjoy listening to The Police or Michael Jackson; we all compete against each other in pick-up games of ultimate Frisbee or soccer; and we all laugh hysterically while watching SpongeBob SquarePants, despite it being a show for third graders. But the significance of this is that now I really know who I am; growing up in a uniform town with a youth culture based on conformity and pleasing the crowd, I tried to forget my culture at home because I was surrounded by people that laughed at me or didn't understand my differences from them. After going through such culturally renewing experiences such as this picnic I realized that my cultural background is something I should be proud to have rather than stow away; it taught how to resist conforming to this posh, rich and famous, upper class lifestyle that is prevalent in my town. Back then I responded to questions about my culture with embarrassment; now I can discuss various aspects of my culture nonchalantly.
Nearing the end of my K-12 education, I finally feel in place with the duality of my life. Living in this juxtaposition of upper class American life with Bengali/Islamic accents has proved a tough challenge to me, but it has been a significant learning experience also; my views towards other people and events in the world is a culmination of my opinions and an understanding and appreciation of their experiences and personal histories that may be different from mine. Because the bottom line is our world needs this diversity and appreciation for it; people of many races, upbringings and setbacks such as Asperger's syndrome or Autism have made significant contributions in the realms of music and arts, business, science, technology and government. That specific thought makes me proud of the unique people I see because they all have something different to bring to the table; and with my multi-faceted life, it is very easy to see that. I have managed to establish equilibrium between the two worlds that I live in, and I hope this special blend continues to stay within me.