12 pivotal moments
1.
First real school friend
First day of JK, I was super worried about making new friends; I saw it
as a coming of age, something to determine how the rest of my life would turn
out. Before I know it a girl pulled her pants down and proclaimed we
would be best friends and that was that.
2.
Realizing 99% of my friends are white
Little me and a bunch of little caucasians
On Martin Luther King Jr day in senior kindergarten we were being taught
about skin color and I looked around the room at all my little friends and felt
out of place. One of my friends turned to me and stated that I was not
the same color, which enraged me. It could be called an identity crisis
of sorts.
3.
Switching friend groups
When I was younger, I liked to move in groups of threes. An odd
number seeing as how one person is always left out. When it was my turn
to be the third wheel of the friendship, I did not deal well with it. I
went inside the classroom bawling and before I knew it the teacher had pityingly
made a little clique take me in as their new friend. Little did I know
(or they knew, I suspect) that it would be the start of something marvelous.
Even though for the first time in my little life I felt like a clichéd
loser for accepting the help from a teacher, it turned out to be an important
lesson of how and when to accept help.
4.
Befriending Millie
Millie and I, being the classic weirdos we were.
My best friend Millie was a member of the little group who took me
in. We became instant best friends, the total sister cliché. Our
friendship remains one of the only things that I can validate for myself as
real and defies all the “growing apart” myths we are so accustomed too.
5.
Growing apart
So maybe it’s not a myth. The first important friend I grew apart
from was one of my third grade best friends named Leela. We said we would
always stay in touch and see each other because that’s simply what we’re
supposed to say when faced with a situation like this. No one says
“goodbye, probably forever” because on top of being optimistic, it was common
form and what we were told to say.
6.
Recommendation for “talent development camp”
When I was in third grade, a teacher told me I could write. That
was news to me. I had never thought of myself in that light, but I
believed if someone told me, it must be true. I was sent to the
northwestern talent development summer program, and while it was one of the
strangest and most embarrassing experiences of my life, it felt good to be told
that I could do something.
7.
Breaking a marble table
In middle school, I wasn’t a BIG girl but I wasn’t tiny. One day I
was sitting on my grandparents marble dining table and it cracked in
half. Right down the middle. Keep in mind this is A LOT of heavy
marble, so imagine my self-esteem when word travels throughout my gigantic
judgmental family that I sat on a marble table and broke it, because I was
obviously, so CLEARLY overweight.
8.
Family Facebook massacre
This is the scandalous shot that caused the strangest event in my life to date to take place. Try to contain yourself with all the "nudity".
We’ve all had embarrassing Facebook photos. This was not one of
them. In 7th grade a picture of 12 year old me where you could
see that I was wearing a bikini (God forbid) was up for 8 hours before it had
been sent around the family tree to my grandma implying I was some Americanized
slut. Before I knew it my grandma was crying at my door and making me
feel like I truly was some Americanized slut. But sadness gives way to
anger and that’s when I started to despise members of my extended family.
9. Social Awkwardness
In 8th grade, a lot of my friends told me how socially
awkward I could be. They weren't trying to be malicious but it still
stung, and I started to truly believe it. They said I didn’t talk around
new people, which I really didn’t, but having that said to me really messed
around with my comfort levels around new people for a long time. It could
very possibly be the reason I do not/can not hangout with a lot of people
alone, namely boys.
10. Full formation of core friend group
This truly, not meant in any sort of cliquey way shaped me to be who I
am now. In 8th grade, my core friend group grew. Not to
say I don’t have any friends outside of them or anything, but having a
considerably big group of girls to be there for me and to love me really
boosted my self-confidence. It feels good to have some main people to
fall back on whenever I felt anything. Even though we get falsely branded
as these clique-monsters nowadays, I wouldn’t change it. As far as I see
it we are no different then any other best friends.
11. 8th grade play
Me, infamously looking like an anime hooker.
I’m the girl who doesn’t have a typical talent. I can’t sing, dance or act. I’ve never thought of myself as a musical
kid, so it never proved to be a problem.
Thth grade play hits me. Someone very cruel thought it would be
absolutely hilarious to put me as a lead, when I specified that I would be
perfectly happy being a rock. I can’t
even read my work aloud, let alone stand up in front of actual people and act.
I tried everything to get out if it, including attempting to get sick
off of Ibuprofen. Nothing worked and
when the traumatizing moment finally came and passed, I felt content
enough. But if it’s not one thing, it’s
the other and to this day I get mocked for certain wardrobe malfunctions in that
performance. This experience made me even
more uncomfortable with public speaking and made me retreat back to my comfort
zone indefinitely.
12. Field hockey
Me, thinking I'm good enough to not pay attention.
Field hockey has played a pretty big part in my life. But not
because I’m some all-star varsity champion, just because it was amongst one of
the first things I was told I was good at. Freshman year I got a lot of
playing time. In any given game I never understood why when a teammate
would congratulate me on a play, because I thought I would know if I did
something well. Over time thought I started to accept it, maybe let it go
to my head and make me think I was way better then I actually am. I
practiced with varsity and possibly even thought I could be that “all-star
varsity champion” even though in reality, I lacked basic skill all
along.
Fast forward to this year, field hockey of fall 2013. I went
through pre-season tryouts thinking that the “tryout” aspect didn’t necessarily
encompass me. I was among the pool of pre-determined varsity kids, a fish
escaping the net that trapped the general mass of players. I was told
vaguely by coaches and bluntly by teammates that I would be a varsity player so
I figured that it was a done deal.
The long awaited day had finally dawned upon
us. August 19th 2013, we were to find out what team we had
made. The entire team followed suit of what I presume to be a cruel
tradition. We Indian ran until each name was called and each girl was
given her individual assessment. Bursting with anticipation and anxiety
like the short sprints we were running, everyone eyes the girl talking to the
head coach, trying to peg her by her facial expressions before she has the
chance to make her fate known. Sun reflecting off the turf hit distracted
eyes and what can be classified as iTunes top 10 music blared in the background
of our thoughts.
At that point I was a little nervous, knowing
my performance thus far had been satisfactory at best. Nerves had
resonated in my stomach and my mind nights before, the kid of nerves that wrack
your sleep and consume your being until there is nothing left but knots and
optimistic hopes clashing with realistic personal assessments. For
someone who went into the season so full of myself, I sure was a basket
case.
When I was finally put out of my Indian run misery, I’m suddenly wracked
with the nerves I knew all too well. As turf turns to wood chips I clash
between thinking I can get by off of empty promises of last year and the
embarrassment I’ll feel if everyone was wrong about me, if I misjudged my own
capability. Suddenly I don’t want to go yet, I want to turn back and run
around the field as many times as I have to in order to avoid this
conversation. Curiosity drives my feet forward and my body down on to the
bench to find out anyways.
The conversation starts off with the
compliments. The generic praises slightly altered with every new hopeful
eyed girl. Then, since nothing can seem to ever go well, the other shoe
drops. “We really want you to improve your skillset so you can be a vital
part of our varsity team next year,” coach says, as if treating me like I’m
some secret weapon will make me feel better.
The rest of the conversation is a blur as I maintain a smile as not to
flash my disappointment. The only thing I can recall is that there was no
“we’ll move you up for state” or other possible promoting chance some of my
peers got. The walk back from that sad bench in the middle of the
courtyard was vital if I wanted to carry myself off nonchalantly. Friends’
eyes on me, trying to read my face for signs of anything, were baffled. I
sauntered over not too enthusiastically but not too sullen, and when they asked
the inevitable I said JV as if it wasn’t constricting my throat to say.
Now, I truly did belong on JV. They
were absolutely correct about me needing to gain some basic skill when it came
to stick work. In actuality, the JV wasn’t what I had the biggest problem
with. It was just the first time that I had felt built up by what people
had always said to me only to have it drastically shot down publically.
My life thus far has been evolved based on what people have told me I am, what
I’ve been led to believe I’m supposed to do or say. Cultural norms have
dictated how I’ve been shaped and others opinions became the only thing that
mattered. I’ve grown to a point where I need the validity of my peers or
anyone in order to feel good about something myself.
This sport overall taught me more than ever
that I can’t trust others or really even myself anymore on matters pertaining
to me. I am unaware of my own skill set, if I even have one. It
taught me that no matter how many times people say something positive it
doesn’t mean it has any merit on my life. If I am what people perceive
and make me to be, then I am nothing but an unexpected failure.
We, as people, have
reached a point where our actions are driven by a force stronger than just
ourselves. We are shaped by everyone and everything around us. We
now assimilate to exist in the perception of others. Presentation is
everything and when something goes wrong we hit rock bottom faster then ever
before. We strive to look strong or good or confident on the outside, not
giving much thought to the inside. In our generation, a lot of us are people who
can't fathom the meaning of "being yourself", all because that term
is too simplistic to carry any real world weight or have any positive effects
on our daily lives. Everything is a fragile
charade that is constantly evolving until it takes over our minds.
