Exploitation of Trauma for Access to Higher Learning
I have saved almost
every piece that I’ve written since I was in the 7th grade; that’s
when my creativity began to emerge and demand more of my attention than the
television. The one essay that I imagined keeping for the rest of my days was
the one that granted my acceptance into Florida State University.
From the tender age of eleven, I had my educational plans in
order. I knew the middle and high school that I was going to attend. And I
knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would apply to FSU and attend in the
fall of 2008. Most of my premonitions came true. I attended the primary and
secondary schools of my choice, and I was accepted to attend FSU. I chose to go
to the University of South Florida instead of living out my all-time educational
dream. This decision was difficult and based off many factors, but my most
emotional rationale was grounded in the lie that I wove to create my admissions
essay.
At that point, I didn’t understand that my ability to create
a story for entertainment would be something that could accelerate my success
in life. I just knew that, while my essay was a heart-warming, triumphant tale
of overcoming obstacles and personal growth, it wasn’t my story.
I can’t remember the specific prompt for admission for that
year, (it was about 10 years ago in all fairness), but the variety of the
topics have always provided slim pickings. According to the Princeton Review, the
common essay prompts can be broken down into about 7 topics:
1.
Share your story
2.
Learning from obstacles
3.
Challenging a belief
4.
Solving a problem
5.
Personal growth
6.
What captivates you?
7.
Topic of choice
My prompt was a mixture of a story where I learned from an
obstacle and experienced personal growth; the admissions board couldn’t settle
on one idea that year, I guess. But ultimately, it was a HUGE lie! I fabricated
a story from thin air because I hadn’t experienced any real obstacle. Other
than my parents’ divorce 12 years
prior, and being used as a mouthpiece to salvage their dysfunctional relationship
for the kids’ (my brother and I) sake in those 12 years, I had a pretty easy
life. I was not willing to put my family’s business out in some stranger’s
hands for the opportunity to go to school, so I lied. I got accepted too – scholarships
and all – and I politely and tearfully declined.
I knew that my essay’s story wasn’t going to follow me for
my college career, the admissions employee would probably never meet me face to
face, but it felt odd knowing that there was a possibility that I was accepted based
off a struggle that I never knew. It feels odd knowing that students are
invited to attend school based off their struggles rather than their joys.
I remember struggling to come up with a time in my life that
would suffice as a turmoil that would secure my spot in the university. I now look
back and wonder what the qualifications for these essays are. What is the
admissions board looking for when they read an essay about a struggle? And when
did we conclude that it must consist of some trauma that marred us for life? I
guess the underdog does always win, but do our tragedies win us a label of strength
or illustrate how we should be pitied?
While many of the comments on the Instagram post applauded
and agreed with the user, one comment stood out to me and prompted me to think
on the topic further:
“What in the fuck are you
talking about? This has to be the most insanely pointless and irrelevant post
you have ever made. Don't write about trauma. Problem solved.”
Don’t write about trauma.
Problem solved. Sounds easy, almost easy enough for me to agree with you
@hdawgsupreme. But when a Person of Color thinks about a personal obstacle that
they have overcome, most of the time the culprit is that of childhood trauma.
Even in my situation, all I could come up with was my parents’ divorce and how
that affected and shaped me into who I was at the time. But that’s trauma. Traumatic
so much for me, that I will never let my child endure being a child of divorce.
And when a person of Color recognizes their “personal growth” it is because
that trauma has shaped their personality, the way they live their life, and their
view of the world.
It makes me wonder if we have been conditioned to showcase
our pain rather than describe a less problematic struggle. Why are superficial problems
not enough? Or are they? In this case, I can see where @hdawgsupreme is coming
from. If everyday issues can guarantee hopeful students admission and
scholarships, then we should just write about those.
On the other hand, do we simply not have mediocre problems
to parade? I mean, I don’t see how our complaints about how our mothers demand
that we provide “McDonald’s money” in
order to stop for a kid’s meal would get me into college.
Do we, as People of Color, automatically assume that we must
bare our soul to verify the validity of our situations or to prove that we deserve
a spot at their institution? Admissions offices seem to love to hear a started-from-the-bottom-and-now-we’re-here
story. But in that case, what do white people write about for these essays?
Now, that is NOT
to say that my Caucasian brethren have not had to overcome any adversities in
their lives. But I can guarantee that if an admissions office receives an essay
about a student who overcame a life-threatening disease and an essay about a
student who persevered their traumatic home environment to go to school, one would
assume that the latter is a Person of Color…
I guarantee it!
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