A digitally archived series of (un)fortunate events
On December 30, 1994, a butt-ugly child was born in a hospital in Raleigh, either during or near hurricane season.
I was not a cherub-like wonder, like the babies you see in a Pampers commercial. No — I was a screaming, flailing alien child that looked like she’d had her chubby face smashed in by a frying pan.
(It’s okay: I turned out looking alright by the time I turned one or two)
We lived in a one-story ranch (that’s just the name for a one-story house, apparently; my life has had little or nothing to do with agriculture, unfortunately) in the middle of Raleigh, and my dad was in the middle of grad school.
I saw baby videos of me clamoring to get a bite of my mom’s Taco Bell burrito, so it was clear that food would be a top priority (and love) of mine since I was tall enough to toddle around on two legs.
I was a demon child. I drew on the walls, took tissues out from tissue boxes, ate things off the floor, drank toilet water (explains a lot about my IQ nowadays, huh), and unraveled toilet paper. The world was my playground, and I was the chaotic overlord of the world in my imagination.
I had loads of guy friends who I’d play make-believe games and Bomberman and Raiden and Dead or Alive with. Or we’d play Pokemon and build Legos and build mini Nascar racetracks for our Hot Wheels. Or we’d play with Power Rangers and pretend we were saving the world together.
And sometime along the way, my sister was born.
Alas, someone to compete with for my parents’ attention.
I started out doting on her. I was so happy to have someone else to play with. But this happiness didn’t last long.
By 7 or 8, I’d founded the “I hate *insert my sister’s name here*” club and convinced my friends that my sister was one of the worst human beings on the planet, mostly out of childish jealousy and spite.
And then we managed to coexist at some point (clearly. We’re both alive and kickin’ now).
We moved to Cary so that I could attend kindergarten at Davis Drive Elementary. And then we stayed put for the rest of my life (aka about seventeen years and counting).
Elementary and middle school are a blur of childhood friends, orchestra friends, and advanced math. I distinctly remember being a part of an orchestra clique that lived off of creative writing and Scrabble and Battle of the Books teams.
Come high school, I was pretty deeply involved with orchestra and chamber music, cross country, and service clubs.
But those just sound like they were there (partially) to populate my list of extracurriculars for college apps.
College app season was tough. I was persuaded to apply to Harvard, Yale, and Princeton (rejected from all three, although I was deferred from Harvard, and I consider that a compliment). I applied to Cornell, UNC, NC State, and Duke. And I got into all four.
I chose Duke because I thought it would push me to grow and push me out of my comfort zone.
It most certainly did.
I went to Duke mostly for the gardens. Throughout my childhood, whenever my extended family from Taiwan visited NC, we’d take them to the gardens and show them the sights they could see around here (namely the NC Museum of Art, Duke Gardens, the mountains, and Carolina Beach).
(And so the gardens are where I seek solace from the hectic busy-ness of Duke nowadays.)
But come freshman year, I found out exactly how rigorous classes at Duke would be. And AP classes didn’t even come close to how tough academics were (and still are).
Duke has pushed me to my very limits. Stress associated with campus life and the discouraging amount of no-chill that people seem to have led me to voluntarily commit myself to hospital stays twice. Because it was that taxing on my mental health.
I used to harbor so much resentment and antipathy towards Duke as an institution. I had so many ideals and notions of what college life should be like, and somehow Duke wasn’t cutting it for me.
It was challenging in a way that made me consider taking my own life at one point.
But I slowly learned that my health was more important than my grades.
That making close friends was more important than acing a test that wouldn’t matter ten years down the road.
That finding a community was crucial, and the independent housing system wasn’t cutting it.
That college is a time for you to learn and grow, yes, but it’s also a time for you to take care of yourself — to prioritize you for perhaps the first time in your life.
To learn how to work alongside those who are different than you, who come from different backgrounds, privileged or not.
To come together and find common ground from all reaches of the world.
To build a campus culture that’s welcoming to anyone regardless of their gender, sexual, racial, ethnic, or other cultural identity.
That was the Duke experience I wanted, and it’s the one I’ve finally got, even though it was at the cost of my academic success.
But it’s a cost I’m willing to pay because knowing the people I know now has been a blessing, and I wouldn’t give them up for the world.
I can’t say it’s been an easy journey, but it’s most certainly been a humbling one.
And even though a bunch of family stuff happened outside my control, I know now that I’m strong enough to endure whatever life throws at me.
My challenge to others is to push yourself and test your own limits (to an extent): put yourself in uncomfortable spaces where you are the minority and learn how to grow from it. You’ll undoubtedly learn more taking detours and going off the beaten path (“going against the grain”) than taking the easy way out.
I promise you that.
While I feel like a bum living at home with my parents, unemployed, I’ve come to learn to respect myself and respect others and recognize how different people have different priorities.
And that’s totally okay.
Just know that we’re all trying to figure life out. And it can be a tiring process, but it’s a rewarding one nonetheless.
So when you face adversity, stand tall.
Don’t let anyone bring you down.
Hold your head high and remember:
You’re you.
You’re the best you you can be right now, given the circumstances you’re facing.
And that’s as much as to be expected of you.
As Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.”
So go out there and change your world.
