Virgin Islands public high school students offered words of wisdom learned from their life experiences when the Community Foundation of the Virgin Islands hosted the 14th Laws of Life Essay Contest awards. Here are some of the essays that won.
Letter of Acceptance by Brianna Hairston
“Why can’t I just be one hundred pounds lighter or three inches taller? Why couldn’t I have been blessed with the talents of Beyoncé or Gabrielle Union?” These types of thoughts filled my head on a daily basis for what seemed to be an eternity. “Beyoncé who? Gabrielle who? Don’t worry my dear, you’re perfect just the way you are.” This is what I would’ve said to myself three years ago if I could go back in time. Writing this letter of acceptance helped me to realize that I do have a purpose in life.
When I was younger, I was more self-conscious than ever, and might I add that it was also the time that I started my high school years at a new school. Upon entering the school, I had already developed preconceived notions of what this school would be like. “Dear Diary, tomorrow I will be starting my first day at some prison they call a high school. I hope I don’t die.” I wrote with deep apprehension. I was frightened mainly because I did not know what to expect and did not have any friends attending the new school.
Additionally, the first few months were brutal, and I cried every night after school. I had no one to talk or relate to. I became very introverted and developed a type of self-hate. On the outside I was portraying a very intelligent, urbane young girl, but on the inside I was dying a slow and painful death. On top of being the new girl in school, I also struggled with being adopted from birth. You see not being able to know who/where I came from was very hard to grasp. How could I communicate with others and explain to them who I was, if I did not even know who I was?
Ironically, from an academic perspective I was one of the best, but that was not important to me. I wanted to be the prettiest, the thinnest, the most popular. I was searching for an identity and ended up in all of the wrong places while trying to find it. I noticed that I had hit rock bottom when I started lashing out on and bullying my siblings. I did it because that was the only way that I could express my feelings, although that did not justify my actions. I just wanted to feel accepted.
Furthermore, growing up I had always heard that putting the pen to paper and expressing your feelings is one of the best forms of therapy. I took it upon myself to do this and wrote a letter to myself. In it I wrote about the aspects of my life that I enjoyed, and the ones that I did not care too much for. I talked about the way being adopted made me feel, and my hopes of finding my birth parents. This letter took almost two hours to write, but by the end of it I felt amazing. I folded and sealed the letter and put it in my bedroom drawer.
In exactly three years, I promised myself that I would open it and read it again and so I did. I could not believe the things that I had written. I was definitely choked up. My world had completely changed between then and now. I was able to open up and find some true friends in the school that I once considered a “prison”, but now see as the best thing that could have ever happened regarding my education and personal growth. Being popular was no longer a desire of mine, and I was also able to realize that beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. I became involved in many clubs and organizations, and continued to stay on top of my academics. I am now content with the fact that I am adopted and see this as a characteristic that makes me who I am.
Never again will I ever put myself in that state. Although it took some time, I was able to find myself. I cannot wait to attend college to pursue degrees in Business Management and Optometry. Since discovering that baking is one of my many passions, I also plan to develop a franchise of cupcake stores around the world. I am also determined to find my birth parents to get answers to the myriad of questions that I have. While Beyoncé and Gabrielle Union are two very inspiring ladies, I have realized that I can set my own path and create a name for myself because I am worth something and I do have a purpose in life.
My Road to Self-Confidence by Sojourna Ferguson
Today, I am described by others as a happy, peppy, free spirited, confident, and bright young lady. However, when I was much younger I was extremely insecure and I felt inferior to my peers. Being smart, quiet, tall and slim made a prime target for being bullied in fourth grade. With the help of my parents and friends I was able to overcome that period of my life. Just as I started feel comfortable with myself, little did I know that another problem was around the corner. This problem would make me different to all the other students.
It was towards the end of sixth grade that my dad first noticed that something was wrong with my back. My mom took me to a pediatrician to get it checked but she found nothing wrong. However, over the summer it became more noticeable to my parents that something was definitely wrong. My skirts no longer fell even on me and my shoulders were no longer even. I was taken to an orthopedic surgeon who confirmed what my dad suspected all along. I was diagnosed with scoliosis, an abnormal curvature of the spine.
I began my seventh grade year looking all twisted. I became very self-conscious. I thought being twisted was bad but it was about to get even worst. After my parents consulted with a pediatric orthopedic surgeon in Puerto Rico, it was decided that I needed to wear a brace to prevent my spine from curving any more. The degree of curvature then was 35 degrees and if the curve increased I would need to do a major surgery. So the brace it was. My life was officially over. How would I be able to hide a big brace? How will I survive junior high in a brace? Will I be laughed at, taunted, teased, or insulted? How could I ever go back to school? I was devastated. I know soon I would have to face the music. However, until then I cried out in despair.
The back brace was impossible to hide. Everyone could see that there was something wrong with my back. My friends did not insult me for wearing a back brace under my clothes but they made fun of it. However, I could not escape the stares, and insults directed at me as I walked through the hallways. It was awful. Thankfully it never came to anything physical, though many times it was close. In addition to the torture from the students, I was tormented by the heat. I was stuck in a brace that covered my body from my chest to my butt. I only took it off to bathe. It felt like hell itself. I could have never been anymore insecure with my own body. However, I was determine not to let that prevent me from excelling in school; and that’s, what I did. I graduated with first honors at the end of junior high. Yet I was still insecure.
My brace fell apart towards the end of junior high and I was happy to get out of it. I would enter high school without the brace. However, it was a little too soon. I started to have back pains and I was still very twisted. Upon my annual checkup we were informed that the curve in the spine increased to 49 degrees and I needed surgery. I was terrified but at the same time extremely happy. I was happy that would not be wearing that atrocious brace again. I was joyful that finally my shoulders will be leveled and I would be straight. I would look normal.
The surgery was scheduled for during the summer at the end of my 9th grade year. The surgery, spinal fusion, was major. It could have left me paralyzed. Thank God it was successful. However, it was extremely painful. I had to learn to walk again. The recovery process took an entire year. During that year I was in pain, no matter what I did. I missed several days of school because of pain. My physical activities were significantly restricted. I could not run, jump, bend down, or even lift anything more than five pounds for the entire year.
The surgery changed my life. I detested it. For my tenth grade year, there was only one word that could have described me; handicap. Someone was always carrying my textbooks. People looked at me with pity. I felt uncomfortable. I wanted to prove to the world that I was still capable of doing anything. However, I could not take the risk. Everyone constantly asked questions. It was annoying but I was happy to see that people cared. In spite of physical pain my life started to brighten up. I was no longer the twisted girl. I was now standing straight and tall. I regained my self-confidence. I was no longer physically inferior.
So here I am today, in my 11th grade year; standing straight, strong and secure. I no longer give people consent to make me feel inferior. I am self confident. My physical struggles with scoliosis have made me a stronger person. Listening to this quote from that the Former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent”. This statement is true for me now, if you are self confident and secure, no one can make you feel otherwise. I am me; nobody can judge who I am and tell me who I am or aren’t. I am me and nobody has the right to tell me otherwise.
Shredding My Cloak of Invisibility by Chasen Richards
From 4th to 8th grade, I was invisible. This is not the conventional invisibility conferred by Harry Potter’s famous cloak; light didn’t bend around me, nor could I act with impunity. Rather than simply being unseen, my invisibility lay in my power to remain unnoticed, and instead of stemming from a billowing cloak, it originated from my state of mind.
I was my class’s resident reader. Instead of passing notes or whispered jokes, I spent my free time absorbed in a book. There’s something about books that act as a natural repellent to most people. Eyes slide off of a reader’s hunched shoulders like rain down a window pane, and any attempts at communication become steadily less frequent as each is met by the slightly bewildered stare of a diver unexpectedly coming up for air.
But the lack of social interaction is what I strived for. I was driven by my fears of rejection, which were fueled by my own warped self-image, and low self-esteem. To defend myself, I carefully cultivated an image of aloofness. My elitism was manufactured by a complex vocabulary, extracted from the books beneath me, and bored, clipped exchanges, which hinted that any book presented a much more interesting engagement than a peer could offer.
To make a long story short, by 8th grade, socially, I was an island with most of its bridges burned. But what did I care? I was safe from the rejection that was guaranteed for “someone like me”, and safe from the dejection that follows.
That year was the apex of my decline, and its summer was the beginning of my rebirth, and the realization of my self-worth. After I graduated from Jr. High, my mom enrolled me in a six week program, specializing in medical research and technology. With no books to rely on, my invisibility was revoked, and though my mind still behaved unnoticeably, my body was quite visible. This means that by the third day, I was faced with a choice: to remain as a self-induced pariah, or to use this summer as my springboard into a new start, and remake myself in a better image.
Today, I am proud to say that I’ve shrugged off my invisibility cloak. And though my former self would never have believed that he would one day become the charismatic captain of the tennis team, I know that he couldn’t have waited to see himself grow into comfort within his own skin. Being seen after years of hiding in plain sight can sometimes be disconcerting, but even on my worst days, when I haven’t done well on a test, grew a new pimple, or even missed the winning point in a set, I know that I am worthy of the same love and respect that every human being deserves. It’s truly amazing to look in the mirror and see who I really am: Chasen Richards, no longer in need of that invisibility cloak.
The Problem of Single-Parent Families by Jashuane Graham
Before I attended the 2013 Man Up Conference at the University of the Virgin Islands, I had begun to believe that the contours of my life were narrowed by my circumstances, and I had adjusted my behavior and my goals to fulfill the low expectations already established on my behalf. It took the words of a dynamic keynote speaker to restore the hope that I had lost, to inspire me to work harder to achieve my goals, and to help me erase from mind the negative stereotype that had defined my self-image.
My household is comprised of my mother, a younger sister, my two younger brothers, and myself. I live in a single-parent household. It is one that seems to be the subject of much concern and great debate among public officials, policy makers, social workers, and educators. My type of household is anathema. It does not conform to the cultural ideal – a married set of biological parents raising decent future citizens. It poses a most perplexing puzzle even to behavioral scholars, and they are not ashamed of admitting it.
A single-parent family is said to be the root cause of all of the problems in which the youth of my generation are implicated. This purportedly dysfunctional unit is said to be the incubator that produces members for the street gangs, dropouts for the schools and police to worry about, youthful offenders for juvenile facilities and caseworkers to take care of, and population for the adult correctional facilities to either rehabilitate or incapacitate, if we wish to have a safe community. But this is only the beginning of the indictment.
Let me not forget that my brothers, my sister, and I are quite predictably along the path to becoming too lazy to look for a job when we grow up. One can dismiss the fact that our mother works at as many jobs as she can handle in order to take care of our needs – food, clothing and shelter – and provide a loving, caring and nurturing environment. We too will wear the stigma of those who will eventually rely upon government assistance, at the expense of the good taxpayers who work hard for a living. The outlook for my future is bleak indeed.
But perhaps the most daunting predictions are reserved for describing my prospects for academic achievement. The lack of a strong, male presence in my home will make me a willing victim of unwholesome peer pressure. I am incapable of being taught to perform at grade level, because education is of low priority in households headed by single females. The values that should be shaping children and molding them into moral beings and active participants in civic and cultural life are said to be nonexistent in my household.
These were the echoes in my mind on the eve of the 2013 Man Up Conference. I was filled with skepticism because I had become a disciple of those who had so eloquently preached about my social pathology and my inevitable doom. There was no balm that could cure my conditions. Thus, I thought of skipping, but a more powerful presence commanded me to not only attend, but to pay attention.
Last on the conference’s morning agenda was the featured speaker. He was introduced by the president of UVI, David Hall. The speaker’s long list of accomplishments held me in awe. Then the speaker began his presentation. He acknowledged the many accolades with such dignified grace and humility. Then he began to give a chronological account of his life.
As the speaker sketched a word picture of his childhood and adolescent periods, he drew a portrait of my own life. When he spoke about his mother and how she constantly worried about finances, her tiredness after a day of tedious, menial work, and the struggles she had to endure in order to provide for her family, I saw the face of my own mother. When he spoke of how his mother would teach him to not follow bad company, to get the best education he can get, to respect everyone, and most of all to have faith in God, I heard my mother’s voice.
That inspirational speaker was Dr. Benjamin Carson, world-renowned pediatric neurosurgeon, whose “Gifted Hands” continue to perform medical miracles, especially in separating Siamese twins. He is the director of surgery at John Hopkins Medical Center. He too had grown up among the caste of untouchables, which is euphemistically designated as a single-parent home.
Thank you, Dr. Carson for opening a new chapter in my life. I listened most carefully when you said, “never allow anyone to place limits on your dreams, because the brain’s capacity to learn, reason, and make rational choices, is infinite.” You also said that I should let no one define who I am, and what I can become. Your message was loud and clear. Therefore, I will become a health care professional, in order to serve the medical needs of my community.
