Michelle                                                                       Expos. Writ. – Ms.Gokturk

Due date: Oct.17, 2003                                                         Bio College Essay

 

The Little Burst of Flame

 

             “How come boys always come in first?” questioned Annie, slightly frowning.

             “Because boys are better,” Dave replied jokingly.

             It was eighth grade gym, and our class had filed outside for the annual, two-times-a-year mile run. As we all huddled into a line at the starting point, the little flame that had many a times burned in me started flaming up again.

             “Bang!” The starting gun rang out.

             Everyone started running. I, normally apathetic about the race, started sprinting with all my strength and will power. I would not let Dave’s comment go unchallenged. The first round was relatively easy, and I kept up with those in the lead. But by the third lap, my chest started hurting, as if needle darts were being aimed at my lungs. Finally, the only impetus that kept me from slowing down in the last lap was the flame inside of me, urging, “Don’t give up.” Even though I did not come in first, my time improved from 8 minutes 24 seconds to 7 minutes 36seconds. It was a record time for me, the best one out of all my times throughout later school years.

             The flame that kindled whenever I heard something about guys being ‘better’ than girls originated from the grandparents on my father’s side. Grandpa was tall and had silver-gray hair streaked by some dark and some white strands. He was generous-faced and the type that was the king outside, while he gave into an imposing wife at home. My grandmother was small and skinny, the type that stuck to her dogmas. They were both the quintessence of the word “old-fashioned” in the old Korean culture, which goes back to the time when there were kings. In short, a very old-fashioned people who valued sons more than daughters, because males used to hold more rights than females. Like most old-fashioned Korean adults, they anticipated a boy. When it turned out that my father’s baby was a girl, they were disappointed. Upon learning of this after I had reached the age of comprehension, I began to become aware of my surroundings, as though I had another set of eyes that was just beginning to see for the first time. The kaleido scope had shifted and my view of the world had changed. Whenever the issue of boys being “better” came up, a little flame inside of me would start kindling, and I would argue against it to my heart’s content.

             Even in recent years, the flame still lights up, though due to matters broader than gender. Due to mischeduling, I’d missed the first five classes of a course that everyone around me had been telling me was tough and would be near impossible since I’d missed the beginning basic lessons. For the first time in my life, my mom suggested that maybe I should reconsider taking the course. My mother, the one person who had always told me I could do it, even when I felt sure I couldn’t. At first, I did start reconsidering, but the stubbornness in me that had always argued otherwise, in matters of gender superiority, turned that shock into another motivation. “I’m going to do this.” And I did. As long as the challenge isn’t anything of the “fantasyland” sort, I take a denial of ability by others as a personal crusade.

             To this day, when I look back to that time in eighth grade gym, the first time that I’d challenged through action, I smile. Although I had not come in first, it had proven to me that I was capable of making some kind of a difference. From that day on, I was more and more able to challenge bravely, without backing down. No matter how bleak my chances seem, if someone says, “But you can’t,” the little flame flares up and replies, “Of course I can.” And I know whom I have to thank for that… my staunch, old-fashioned grandparents.