(Insert Chinese Here)
In honor of the most beautiful woman I know
Of everything that you have ever written, what have you been most afraid to share?
This is it, for me.
This was the personal essay I submitted with my college application to Columbia. It meant so much to me to get this exactly the way I wanted it to be that after weeks of stressing out about it, I took a day off of school to write it.
If I remember correctly, I’ve shared this with one, maybe two friends, ever—and long after I’d submitted my application and gotten in. Years, in fact, because I was so afraid of criticism after I was done writing it that I chose to forgo any constructive feedback that would’ve helped increase my chances of getting into my first choice college.
But I’m sharing it now, because this is a year of doing things that scare me. Because it remains one of the pieces of writing that I’m most proud of. And because it’s Mother’s Day, and I don’t acknowledge my appreciation for my mom, and all that she has done, nearly often enough.
So—here’s to moms everywhere. Happy Mother’s Day y’all.
(Insert Chinese Here)
I wish I were fluent in the language my mother speaks. Once, I tried to write her a letter in Chinese. I drafted it, substituting English for the terms I did not know but hoped to, one day, learn. Missing words punctured every sentence I pieced together, so when I finished, I put the letter away. I vowed to come back to it once I became more knowledgeable of the language.
I came across this letter the other day, as it was when I first slipped it into my journal for safe-keeping. The following are the English words I had placed inside parentheses, the words I still hope to, one day, translate for my mom. The reasons I had used these words before are different from the reasons I use them now. But, as I write, and memories of her kind acts, compassionate words, and inspirational achievements weave themselves through my mind, I realize my convictions in these sentiments have only grown since I first penned them.
(Beautiful.) My mom refuses to get manicures. She believes her hands are too worn, too wrinkled, too leathery. She claims, “A manicure would be wasted on mommy.” Her hands are the byproduct of working 10-hour days as a seamstress, and its lines pay tribute to her resolve and her sacrifice for her family. After a strenuous day at her job, she would do work around the house until she went to sleep. When I was in elementary school, she would not allow me to help with the chores, insisting I were only to be a student: “Let mommy take care of that stuff.”
In Chinese, the word for “beautiful”—“mei”—indicates physical exquisiteness and grace. But, I am hesitant to use it to describe my mom, because “beautiful” to me implies something deeper. When I think of how much she has sacrificed for her family, I feel overwhelmed, reflective and grateful. I think of how much courage she must possess, in order to devote herself so selflessly and earnestly to the lives of her loved ones. Beautiful, to me, therefore, represents her courage. Beautiful, to me, are her values—her belief in the importance of hard work and family, and the worth of kindness and love. It is, also, the example she has set: through it all, she has still managed to consistently endeavor to enrich herself, to learn and to seize new opportunities.
(Proud.) A few years ago, my mom enrolled in English and business classes, hoping they would help her to find a better job. Coming home from school, I would often find her intensely studying. Whenever she made a mistake (for example, she would pronounce “rocabulary” instead of vocabulary), she would say, laughingly, that she was too old to really learn at her age. Her determination to do so, however, shows me she does not believe her claim.
One day, she admitted to me her happiness at being able to go to school. She appreciates the opportunity because she believes “learning as much as possible, even if that is a little bit, is worth it.” By extolling learning as a goal, not a means, she has taught me to regard it as a fulfilling, lifelong endeavor. I take her example to heart and aim to learn for the sake of learning. I am proud of my mom—of her modesty, determination and ambitions.
(Thankful.) She takes time to make sure I pay more attention to my blessings and my character, than to the symbols of my success. She teaches me: money does not matter as long as I am healthy, and grades are secondary to trying my best. Although she places great emphasis on my education, she also trusts me to discover my own reasons for wanting to do well. Because of this, I have learned to be self-motivated and independent. I am thankful for the drive she has instilled in me, for her unconditional support and her patience.
My mom is at work, right now. She does not know that I have written about her in my essay. Later, I will try to express to her, in as many broken Chinese sentences as I will need, that I think she is (beautiful), that I am (proud) of her and her achievements, and that I am (thankful) for how she has shaped my goals, my values, and my character. Her influence, in effect, has been my life story. I will do my best as I enter this new stage in my life—partially to make her proud, and partially because she has taught me never to accept anything less from myself.
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