<p>Hello, I'm applying to Boston College early action and I have some questions regarding my essay. Would somebody be willing to edit it? Email me at <a href="mailto:Mathahs.Jake@gmail.com">Mathahs.Jake@gmail.com</a></p>
<p>Your email will not show up on this forum, unfortunately! However, you can always message me with your essay should you need the assistance! Good luck. </p>
<p>Thank you for letting me know! I was so oblivious! Haha. I have my essay right here. Please let me know what you think!</p>
<p>“You are different.”
These words stung my ears as soon as my father uttered them. I did not want to be different. I wanted to have peers. I had always contemplated who I would be if my parents hadn’t immigrated to America.
I never truly appreciated my culture; the decline of my appreciation for my culture truly began after my family moved from the diverse metropolitan city of Manhattan to the White suburbia of Bettendorf, Iowa.
Striving for acceptance from my classmates made me want to be an equal. I was an adolescent female going through the struggles of junior high just like they were. I wore Hollister and slathered my eyes with makeup every morning, just like they did. One year into my life in Iowa, there was one thing keeping me from feeling like an equal: the homeland.
Why couldn’t I have been born just a few thousand miles westward? Why couldn’t I go out at night? Why couldn’t my friends see past my skin color, and, even moreso, my restrictions. I wished that I was truly American-that I could be normal.
Not a day went by in which I wasn’t mentally consumed by my limitations. My birthplace meant that I was less than those around me. It meant that I could never live freely-that I would always be settling for less than my white peers.
I had only been to my birthplace once before, not counting my birth. Afte hearing the news that my mom had planned a return, I resisted. There were so many ways I would have rather spent my summer; I wanted to spend time with my friends, not an estranged group of family members.
Suddenly, a world I had only been familiar with through my television screen morphed into a tangible environment that invigorated my senses. Arabic words surrounded me in the air, something my bilingual brain had never experienced.<br>
I was careening through around corners and through alleys toward my destination: Alexandria. I began experiencing aromas, tastes, emotions, that had long since been smothered in the depths of my subconscious brain. This all incited a sort of nostalgia that took me by surprise.
As I sat in the crowded living room with a group of individuals supposedly sharing my DNA, it seemed miraculous when the lights finally flickered on and I could finally look into their eyes.
I can look back and remember the Sphinx and the Pyramids. I can taste the best mango juice I’ve ever consumed. I can remember men selling fruit on the streets. But those aren’t the images that flood my mind when my head hits my pillow. I see my cousins and I comparing our lives and recall my thoughts:
“Ana Amrekhia.”
I’m American-but I lied. It became so clear. I would never be happy struggling to adopt a life parallel to that of my peers.
“Ana Masraiya kaman.”
I’m Egyptian too-I can remember standing on the balcony, staring at the breathtaking Mediteranean Sea. I came to the truest realization of my life. I realized who I truly was. Moreso, I realized where I really was. I completely forgot about my house halfway across the globe-this is home.
I found myself thinking in arabic and embracing the vivid aspects of my identity that I had so vehemently attempted to suppress.I found myself dreading our departure from Egypt, a place I would have never expected to appreciate.
Upon returning to America, the joy of my experiences was tinged with sadness. I regret shutting out Egyptian culture during my adolescence. By choosing to only negatively view its impact on my life, I neglected to appreciate the positive aspects. I will never embrace all of the Egyptian cultural mentalities nor will I lose my American accent when I speak Arabic-but I will never stop being an American minority with Egyptian roots.</p>
<p>Thanks a lot! Let me know what you think! :)</p>