Hi everyone! This is my first thread, and any critique on my common app essay would very much appreciated!! the prompt is "Discuss some issue of personal, local, national, or international concern and its importance to you." I am very bad at grammar, and this essay has been proofreader only once. Thanks so much in advance!
A cold and hostile atmosphere greeted me as I anxiously ran into my parents' store; the rare absence of customers foreboded what was to come. After climbing a single stair, my feet became glued to the floor as I felt my hand suppress an escaping cry.
A bruised woman lay ahead, hunched on an aged stool. Crimson blood trickled down her bandaged face, staining her white clothes. The disheveled appearance and undeniable terror that shone through her eyes contrasted with the strong and fearless person I knew her to be: my mother. This incident was the second time she was beaten and robbed by individuals who viewed her Asian minority race as permission to degrade the strong native Korean character she held.
I began to recall the harsh slurs that were hurled at my parents and soon at me. "Go back home, chinks!" people yelled while shrieking with laughter. They mocked the "broken" English my father used as I cowered my head in embarrassment. As a child, they erased the small amount of pride I had for my culture by simply labeling my people "ugly chinks" while slanting their eyes to prove their label worthy.
Such personal experiences of cultural discrimination plagued my views of a motherland that was created in the name of equality. As a Korean by birth and an American by circumstance, I realized the significance ethnicity had on my identity at a young age like razorblades to my skin. The value of spoken words from my family immediately diminished in the eyes of the listener with one look at their skin. Had not my family immigrated to America in hopes of opportunities that no other country could claim to have? Was "equality" a term that merely represented the ideal rather than reality?
After relaying these experiences and thoughts in an essay contest, I was chosen as a top ten finalist. An oral presentation of my essay was required to determine the winners. I soon found myself standing in the spotlight at Severance Hall while over 400 pairs of eyes were hidden in the darkness; the only people who shone as bright as morning was my family. I was determined to represent those who had been silenced by prejudice; the simple words I had written one night in December briefly depicting my childhood of flaming hate were transposed into a resonant voice that contrasted with the soft-spoken stutters that characterized my speaking. Although the second prize scholarship was a grateful surprise, the greatest honor was given when a women expressed her gratitude of my courage and voiced that together we would stop the hate. I realized that one of my deepest wishes in life had come true: allowing people to leave with some sort of inspiration with which they had not arrived. That day, I learned the value embedded within me as a person, a human being with potential.
I have continued to live my dream as passionate speaker. From being invited as a guest speaker on a radio station to speaking at Chardon Middle School where students are still recovering from the tragedy of the Chardon High School shooting, these humbling learning experiences have reinforced my willpower not to condemn the guilty of those who shed the innocent blood of my mother, but to empower the voice of victims against injustice.
Perhaps the most rewarding experience of my life thus far occurred when my father was given a standing ovation after I presented my speech at an FBI Hate Crimes Conference. He stood up slowly as a shy smile surfaced; a thunderous applause followed. That moment contrasted deeply with the cowers I had so often made as I stood tall and straight, shoulders pulled back, head held high, and proud of who I was.
A cold and hostile atmosphere greeted me as I anxiously ran into my parents' store; the rare absence of customers foreboded what was to come. After climbing a single stair, my feet became glued to the floor as I felt my hand suppress an escaping cry.
A bruised woman lay ahead, hunched on an aged stool. Crimson blood trickled down her bandaged face, staining her white clothes. The disheveled appearance and undeniable terror that shone through her eyes contrasted with the strong and fearless person I knew her to be: my mother. This incident was the second time she was beaten and robbed by individuals who viewed her Asian minority race as permission to degrade the strong native Korean character she held.
I began to recall the harsh slurs that were hurled at my parents and soon at me. "Go back home, chinks!" people yelled while shrieking with laughter. They mocked the "broken" English my father used as I cowered my head in embarrassment. As a child, they erased the small amount of pride I had for my culture by simply labeling my people "ugly chinks" while slanting their eyes to prove their label worthy.
Such personal experiences of cultural discrimination plagued my views of a motherland that was created in the name of equality. As a Korean by birth and an American by circumstance, I realized the significance ethnicity had on my identity at a young age like razorblades to my skin. The value of spoken words from my family immediately diminished in the eyes of the listener with one look at their skin. Had not my family immigrated to America in hopes of opportunities that no other country could claim to have? Was "equality" a term that merely represented the ideal rather than reality?
After relaying these experiences and thoughts in an essay contest, I was chosen as a top ten finalist. An oral presentation of my essay was required to determine the winners. I soon found myself standing in the spotlight at Severance Hall while over 400 pairs of eyes were hidden in the darkness; the only people who shone as bright as morning was my family. I was determined to represent those who had been silenced by prejudice; the simple words I had written one night in December briefly depicting my childhood of flaming hate were transposed into a resonant voice that contrasted with the soft-spoken stutters that characterized my speaking. Although the second prize scholarship was a grateful surprise, the greatest honor was given when a women expressed her gratitude of my courage and voiced that together we would stop the hate. I realized that one of my deepest wishes in life had come true: allowing people to leave with some sort of inspiration with which they had not arrived. That day, I learned the value embedded within me as a person, a human being with potential.
I have continued to live my dream as passionate speaker. From being invited as a guest speaker on a radio station to speaking at Chardon Middle School where students are still recovering from the tragedy of the Chardon High School shooting, these humbling learning experiences have reinforced my willpower not to condemn the guilty of those who shed the innocent blood of my mother, but to empower the voice of victims against injustice.
Perhaps the most rewarding experience of my life thus far occurred when my father was given a standing ovation after I presented my speech at an FBI Hate Crimes Conference. He stood up slowly as a shy smile surfaced; a thunderous applause followed. That moment contrasted deeply with the cowers I had so often made as I stood tall and straight, shoulders pulled back, head held high, and proud of who I was.