"Crossroads"
A woman's gold hijab flutters past where I stand, her husband's neutral maawi accenting its vibrancy. A man wearing a salwar kameez darts through the throngs of people, shouting in Urdu as his mini-me son lags behind. A familiar sight: a jumble of fluorescent yellow Crocs huddle around a screen announcing the next flight to Atlanta. I am standing in the Charles de Gaulle airport, captivated by the different cultures, identities and traditions.
An airport for me holds special fascination. This is where men and women from every corner of the world amass. Although this fleeting encounter lacks cohesion, the story and culture behind each passenger captures my imagination.
Ever since childhood, the crossroad of societies and cultures has fascinated me. Whether it is trekking hours to an indigenous Andean community, spending a month with another family in Southern Spain and Iceland, or walking through Tehran's bazaar, I have taken every opportunity to learn more about and from others.
Understanding other peoples' culture and life begins when a language barrier does not exist. My first language as a child was Farsi, followed by English; Spanish, which I speak fluently, is followed by French and Italian, both in the learning process.
This curiosity about the world began at an age of Curious George and Madeline. My Iranian parents would tell me about the horrors and the aspirations of the 1979 Revolution, although at the time, I understood little. As I grew older, I became fascinated with the country of my heritage and its turbulent relations with the country I call home.
I discovered news outlets such as the New York Times and the BBC, and I read personal accounts about the inflation and suffering in Zimbabwe, former child soldiers in Sierra Leone, and the post-apartheid era.
By my sophomore year, I had not found a path to express these passions. Although the news cycle for the 2008 US elections stole the media's attention from the news of human suffering elsewhere world, I began learning more about the genocide in Darfur. I couldn't understand how such atrocities could be committed without international outcry. As the details of Darfur's horrors became more embedded into my conscience, an opportunity presented itself. I was asked to organize two events sponsored by Genocide Intervention Network, featuring Dr. Ashis Brahma, the sole doctor in a Darfur refugee camp of 27,000.
I poured much of my energy and soul into planning the event. From speaking to the media, sponsors, donors and politicians, I discovered an outlet where my passion could convert itself into action.
On February 10, 2009, as I addressed an audience of over 900 students, I had a sort of epiphany. If a high school student- with four months of dedication- can educate and encourage hundreds to take a stand as well, then it is worth spending a lifetime on activism and community service. Collaboration and negotiation should not be made between countries and diplomats, but between humans.
I founded the first high school STAND (student anti-genocide coalition) chapter in the state. In just three months, we raised thousands of dollars, educated politicians about Darfur and related legislation, and organized a rally at the State Capitol for Obama's 100th day in office. This year, we aim to focus on the atrocities in the Congo.
I now view success as the ability to make a difference in the lives of others. When I hear of the suffering of the innocent, I feel obliged to help. But with what voice is such suffering conveyed? This question compels me to want to lend my voice to those who have been robbed of their own. I hope to translate my passion to other young people, so that together, we become not only the leaders of tomorrow- but of today.
A woman's gold hijab flutters past where I stand, her husband's neutral maawi accenting its vibrancy. A man wearing a salwar kameez darts through the throngs of people, shouting in Urdu as his mini-me son lags behind. A familiar sight: a jumble of fluorescent yellow Crocs huddle around a screen announcing the next flight to Atlanta. I am standing in the Charles de Gaulle airport, captivated by the different cultures, identities and traditions.
An airport for me holds special fascination. This is where men and women from every corner of the world amass. Although this fleeting encounter lacks cohesion, the story and culture behind each passenger captures my imagination.
Ever since childhood, the crossroad of societies and cultures has fascinated me. Whether it is trekking hours to an indigenous Andean community, spending a month with another family in Southern Spain and Iceland, or walking through Tehran's bazaar, I have taken every opportunity to learn more about and from others.
Understanding other peoples' culture and life begins when a language barrier does not exist. My first language as a child was Farsi, followed by English; Spanish, which I speak fluently, is followed by French and Italian, both in the learning process.
This curiosity about the world began at an age of Curious George and Madeline. My Iranian parents would tell me about the horrors and the aspirations of the 1979 Revolution, although at the time, I understood little. As I grew older, I became fascinated with the country of my heritage and its turbulent relations with the country I call home.
I discovered news outlets such as the New York Times and the BBC, and I read personal accounts about the inflation and suffering in Zimbabwe, former child soldiers in Sierra Leone, and the post-apartheid era.
By my sophomore year, I had not found a path to express these passions. Although the news cycle for the 2008 US elections stole the media's attention from the news of human suffering elsewhere world, I began learning more about the genocide in Darfur. I couldn't understand how such atrocities could be committed without international outcry. As the details of Darfur's horrors became more embedded into my conscience, an opportunity presented itself. I was asked to organize two events sponsored by Genocide Intervention Network, featuring Dr. Ashis Brahma, the sole doctor in a Darfur refugee camp of 27,000.
I poured much of my energy and soul into planning the event. From speaking to the media, sponsors, donors and politicians, I discovered an outlet where my passion could convert itself into action.
On February 10, 2009, as I addressed an audience of over 900 students, I had a sort of epiphany. If a high school student- with four months of dedication- can educate and encourage hundreds to take a stand as well, then it is worth spending a lifetime on activism and community service. Collaboration and negotiation should not be made between countries and diplomats, but between humans.
I founded the first high school STAND (student anti-genocide coalition) chapter in the state. In just three months, we raised thousands of dollars, educated politicians about Darfur and related legislation, and organized a rally at the State Capitol for Obama's 100th day in office. This year, we aim to focus on the atrocities in the Congo.
I now view success as the ability to make a difference in the lives of others. When I hear of the suffering of the innocent, I feel obliged to help. But with what voice is such suffering conveyed? This question compels me to want to lend my voice to those who have been robbed of their own. I hope to translate my passion to other young people, so that together, we become not only the leaders of tomorrow- but of today.
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