The biggest tree

I was different. Gazing up at my family’s pale blue eyes, skimming past family portraits in the hallways, I’d question: Why do I have a darker complexion? Why wasn’t my hair blonde like my sisters? As early as age four or five, I became cognizant of these differences. My personality, my likes, and dislikes all appeared to be complete opposites of my family. 

One of my earliest faint memories was a family member joking about me not being “biological.” It never left my mind. All these events culminated on the day where I would discover answers to my life questions: I was conceived in a petri dish. The whole egg-donation and In Vitro Fertilization was my beginning. Subsequent to my mother sitting me down and explaining this to me — long before sex education at school — I felt irritation beginning to stir within me. I even recall saying, “so you aren’t even my real mom”. Post my traumatic talk with my mom, I felt like I no longer fit in with my sister, or with any close family members I knew my whole life: all because they weren’t my blood. Even though I had developed a bond with these people, my self-identity and my world changed dramatically when I discovered my biological composition — my DNA — varied from my mom and the rest of my family. 

After learning of my origins in a petri dish, nothing could be the same. I struggled for years to accept myself because I perpetually felt alone and that no one understood me. Nor did I truly understand me. I felt that my perception of my older sister and mentor had shifted; I had to be different now. 

I set out on a path of self-discovery from this pivotal point in my life. During my freshman year, I took a DNA test. It was intriguing to see how my roots contrasted with my sister — parts of Africa and indigenous South America — yet we shared in large common heritage from other parts of the world. After family counseling and family bonding activities, I no longer viewed my sister as someone foreign or separate from me. I concluded within our relationship that she genuinely is my sibling; our bond supersedes our DNA differences in the sense that kin is not always blood-related. I know she will always be there for me. I started to understand the sacrifices my mom endured to obtain her pregnancy with me, and that I’m not a burden, but truly a daughter in every sense of the word. She loves me and in no way less than my sister, each for our own unique attributes and talents.

Growing up, I classified family as those who share blood. Those who share the same genetic makeup, the same adenine or thymine clustered within each double-helix. After reflecting on myself, I realized that family extends beyond genetics and blood. This was my ultimate catharsis. Family means security; people and kin who have been there for you. People who will always love you no matter what mistakes or choices are made. Love is deeper than the color of hair, or eyes, or skin. A family should always be an environment offering acceptance. Given this, I no longer stare at myself in the mirror wondering why I am different, rather I embrace that I am loved because of my differences. My inner-strength comes from this confident reflection.

This life lesson was a catalyst in motivating me to pursue a career relating to the genetic makeup of our world. I want to join the field with medical heroes and help mothers and parents struggling to conceive. I wish to explore the world of DNA, the diversity of it, and the impacts that it has on family dynamics. 

2020 will be a year that my grandkids will question me about. Just as I look at the greatest generation and how WWII defined them, the coronavirus along with racial tensions and political polarity will define this year. Despite the hardships, there have been opportunities to serve, observe, and appreciate the unique period that we’re living in. When the coronavirus cases and deaths grew exponentially in March this year it was clear that life as I knew it would forever be changed. For me personally, that meant foregoing my normal social life. I felt helpless, with nothing to do, and no one to help. As I pondered my situation, I realized others had a much greater cross to bear. My parents being unemployed, others losing their home in Midland, Michigan and others feeling the pain of a divided country. Six seasons of Grey's Anatomy later, I finally realized I could make a small contribution. At the repeated urging of my mother, I finally sat down and learned how to sew masks. My mother's value of thrift is something I learned to cherish. As a diligent teacher, she reminded me by example, how to recycle old t-shirts into masks. Right away we started working every day for a couple of weeks until we made enough masks to share with the Sheriff and his team. These experiences ranging from isolation to trepidation to achievement have prepared me emotionally to face the challenges I imagine I will face in college.

“Who is your hero?”

A typical question asked in Kindergarten through fifth grade. Most kids give answers relating from Superman to Dora the Explorer. Mine was and will always be my grandmother. I always called her “GG” for short (a great hero name if you ask me). Whenever my parents were out, GG would babysit me. Every night before bed, she came into my room and told me stories of when she was my age. The hardships she endured just to get a proper education amazed me. When she was a teenager she shared her dreams with her parents to go to art school and quench her passion for drawing and painting. It was always the same response: “Why would you waste time and money on that? You’re just gonna get married and have kids." As I grew up I became intrigued as to why it was so hard for her, and many women for that matter, to pursue further education or training. With more females than males enrolled in U.S colleges today, some Americans might expect that women's education isn’t an issue. Looking beyond our borders today, some parts of the world still seem like GG’s generation. More than half of teenagers not in school around the world are girls. In some countries, girls are compelled to help with household chores, take care of their younger siblings, or take on jobs to support their families. In some areas, teen pregnancy is an issue at hand because of the lack of sex education and parental guidance. As an ongoing issue, measures have been taken by various organizations, including UN missions, nevertheless, they have not fully resolved this issue. Two-thirds of the 774 million illiterate people in the world are female. When you first go on the Malala fund page, the first words that appear are “Why are more than 130 million girls out of school?” With current access to extensive research on women’s issues, academic articles, and social media posts about women's education, I find myself enthralled in the women’s movement of my time.