At 580 West Nanjing Road, Shanghai, one of the largest counterfeit markets worldwide, a sense of gloom pervaded the atmosphere of the rusty market that harshly displayed the low-quality working conditions of the vendors. As my cousins bargained enthusiastically with a plump lady over a pair of positively fake Converse sneakers that sold for three dollars, I fled for a washroom break.
Stumbling hastily, I grinned as I closed the door behind me in a stall, glad to release the pressure I've been holding in. As I finished and looked for toilet paper, a dazzle of marker scrawled over the stall door caught my eye--bold Chinese characters in different handwriting, possibly scribbled by different women who previously occupied the stall. I examined the words, each strident sentence seemed to be screaming a tragedy--Wu-Shang's husband cheated on her just because she wasn't able to conceive a boy; Ling, merely in her teens, was raped by her stepfather; and there were yet more. There I was, fifteen-years-old and cramped in the tiny stall, hypnotized by the stories inscribed on the toilet door. I perused the writings once, then twice, as a historian would've done with pre-historic cave drawings, each inaudible cry striking me with the realization of my own fortune. Rummaging through my backpack, I found a felt-tip pen, and swiftly added a line to the nearly covered door. The task of toilet paper searching had been long forgotten. I stood up and snapped a picture with my phone so I would never forget.
To me, empathy has always been a formidable feeling--I cannot stand to watch others suffer when I am empowered to succor them, since fate had been kind enough to bless me a life of felicity. I yearn to make a difference to the world, no matter how insignificant it may be.
From being the Taiwanese Children Right's ambassador and participating in annual meetings discussing about needy children, the urge to make people's lives better has stimulated me to fully participate in helping other people, rather than merely raising ideas of "how" to assist those in need. I started small--teaching children who couldn't afford tutors in my community; volunteering at the Taiwanese Rare Disease Foundation every weekend, taking the sick children on field trips, and helping them with art projects to be exhibited in the underground hallways of the mass transit system. It also compels me to spread my love of volunteering by inspiring other teenage girls--I was nominated as the national Formosa Daughter award finalist, a role-model position that gave me the chance to urge other teens to participate in making the world a better place.
Looking back, it seems that I have really been keeping my promises to the women in the washroom. With my pen, I had written, "I hope to change the world for the better." Someday, I will visit that stall again, and I hope that by that time, the world will have become a bit better because of me.
Stumbling hastily, I grinned as I closed the door behind me in a stall, glad to release the pressure I've been holding in. As I finished and looked for toilet paper, a dazzle of marker scrawled over the stall door caught my eye--bold Chinese characters in different handwriting, possibly scribbled by different women who previously occupied the stall. I examined the words, each strident sentence seemed to be screaming a tragedy--Wu-Shang's husband cheated on her just because she wasn't able to conceive a boy; Ling, merely in her teens, was raped by her stepfather; and there were yet more. There I was, fifteen-years-old and cramped in the tiny stall, hypnotized by the stories inscribed on the toilet door. I perused the writings once, then twice, as a historian would've done with pre-historic cave drawings, each inaudible cry striking me with the realization of my own fortune. Rummaging through my backpack, I found a felt-tip pen, and swiftly added a line to the nearly covered door. The task of toilet paper searching had been long forgotten. I stood up and snapped a picture with my phone so I would never forget.
To me, empathy has always been a formidable feeling--I cannot stand to watch others suffer when I am empowered to succor them, since fate had been kind enough to bless me a life of felicity. I yearn to make a difference to the world, no matter how insignificant it may be.
From being the Taiwanese Children Right's ambassador and participating in annual meetings discussing about needy children, the urge to make people's lives better has stimulated me to fully participate in helping other people, rather than merely raising ideas of "how" to assist those in need. I started small--teaching children who couldn't afford tutors in my community; volunteering at the Taiwanese Rare Disease Foundation every weekend, taking the sick children on field trips, and helping them with art projects to be exhibited in the underground hallways of the mass transit system. It also compels me to spread my love of volunteering by inspiring other teenage girls--I was nominated as the national Formosa Daughter award finalist, a role-model position that gave me the chance to urge other teens to participate in making the world a better place.
Looking back, it seems that I have really been keeping my promises to the women in the washroom. With my pen, I had written, "I hope to change the world for the better." Someday, I will visit that stall again, and I hope that by that time, the world will have become a bit better because of me.
