This is the the second of three essays I am considering to submit as my common app essay. I put this under option #6, "topic of your choice."
Since childhood, I have been aware that I am different from everyone else. However, growing up in Northern Virginia's D.C. suburbia, my odd name, olive skin, and tendency to eat a lot of rice had never interfered so much. Life as an Arab-American was okay. However, after the tragic events of 9/11, an identity crisis had been violently birthed, and has since then been constantly growing inside of me, gnawing at my sense of self, forcing me to question who I really am and ultimately what I am worth.
For the remaining years I had lived in Virginia, I was reprimanded for being a traitor to my country; and, unfortunately, when I moved to the United Arab Emirates soon afterwards, I was instead scorned for "losing" other half of my heritage. I speak broken Arabic, I prefer to bang my head to Sweden's Amon Amarth than to swerve my hips to the pop beats of Lebanon's Nancy Ajram, and I would never eat so much as a tablespoon of tabouleh. Apparently, such details have led to the general disapproval of my existence. So, where do I belong?
What few seem to realize is that there is more to me, and everyone else for that matter, than ethnicity. "Diversity" has become such a distasteful word, bringing to mind mere ethnical denominations. Whether one is Caucasian, Latino, African, or Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Pagan, or different in any other aspect of one's lifestyle does not necessarily control who they are or what they can contribute to society. I am more than part of an ethnic and religious demographic. I am both anemic and asthmatic. Metal is the most recurring genre on my mp3 player. Although I'm considerably sociable, my steel-toe boots, multi-colored hair, and all-black wardrobe finds a way to disguise that characteristic. My favorite Pokémon is Blastoise. As a child, I was a solipsist. Now, I'm an optimistic cynic. I shall never enforce views on anyone; however, I will always stand up for what I believe is right.
Just because I cannot define who I am, it does not mean I am not who I am, nor does it mean that I don't know what I want to do with my life. Someday, I hope to bridge the gap between worlds through my writing, and revamp the term "diversity" for the better. Over the years, I have experienced first-hand the many different individuals around me, and I have cultivated the aspiration to change what we know, what we seem to know, and what we simply don't know about each other. My dream is to help bring humankind closer together, one page at a time, so that we may transcend our differences and work towards a life our forefathers could never perceive nor achieve. I want to make a difference, and opening the hearts and minds of others seems to be the best one I can ever hope to accomplish. This is who I am, and my cause is what I am worth.
Since childhood, I have been aware that I am different from everyone else. However, growing up in Northern Virginia's D.C. suburbia, my odd name, olive skin, and tendency to eat a lot of rice had never interfered so much. Life as an Arab-American was okay. However, after the tragic events of 9/11, an identity crisis had been violently birthed, and has since then been constantly growing inside of me, gnawing at my sense of self, forcing me to question who I really am and ultimately what I am worth.
For the remaining years I had lived in Virginia, I was reprimanded for being a traitor to my country; and, unfortunately, when I moved to the United Arab Emirates soon afterwards, I was instead scorned for "losing" other half of my heritage. I speak broken Arabic, I prefer to bang my head to Sweden's Amon Amarth than to swerve my hips to the pop beats of Lebanon's Nancy Ajram, and I would never eat so much as a tablespoon of tabouleh. Apparently, such details have led to the general disapproval of my existence. So, where do I belong?
What few seem to realize is that there is more to me, and everyone else for that matter, than ethnicity. "Diversity" has become such a distasteful word, bringing to mind mere ethnical denominations. Whether one is Caucasian, Latino, African, or Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Pagan, or different in any other aspect of one's lifestyle does not necessarily control who they are or what they can contribute to society. I am more than part of an ethnic and religious demographic. I am both anemic and asthmatic. Metal is the most recurring genre on my mp3 player. Although I'm considerably sociable, my steel-toe boots, multi-colored hair, and all-black wardrobe finds a way to disguise that characteristic. My favorite Pokémon is Blastoise. As a child, I was a solipsist. Now, I'm an optimistic cynic. I shall never enforce views on anyone; however, I will always stand up for what I believe is right.
Just because I cannot define who I am, it does not mean I am not who I am, nor does it mean that I don't know what I want to do with my life. Someday, I hope to bridge the gap between worlds through my writing, and revamp the term "diversity" for the better. Over the years, I have experienced first-hand the many different individuals around me, and I have cultivated the aspiration to change what we know, what we seem to know, and what we simply don't know about each other. My dream is to help bring humankind closer together, one page at a time, so that we may transcend our differences and work towards a life our forefathers could never perceive nor achieve. I want to make a difference, and opening the hearts and minds of others seems to be the best one I can ever hope to accomplish. This is who I am, and my cause is what I am worth.
