From dusk to dawn the sun stays up, working hard to fulfill everyone’s needs. In the same way, my dad, my papa has worked hard for decades to fulfill the needs of his family. My papa moved to America when he was seventeen years old. Merely a teenager, in a new country, with a new language, with new rules, with new responsibilities. My papa found a job as soon as he moved to America and has been working ever since. This is success. His perseverance and hard work inspires me everyday. I have seen my papa through everything. Through his long nights, through his struggles, through his worries. I have seen his dirty hands that don’t give justice to all the work he has done. I have seen the sweat dripping from his forehead, which doesn’t show how long he has been in the sun. I have seen his cuts and bruises which don’t show how much pain he has dealt with. This is success. His capability to suppress his emotions around his children. His capability to continue even when he is beyond exhausted. His capability to think about others more than himself. His capability to always want the best for others. His capability to have patience. His capability to carry so many responsibilities. His capability to be brave. His capability to be the greatest papa I could have ever asked for. This is success. The way he allows himself to make mistakes. The way he allows himself to be angry. The way he allows himself to relax. The way he allows himself to be tired. The way he allows himself to learn. The way he allows himself to be uncomfortable. The way he allows himself to care. The way he allows himself to disagree. The way he allows himself to be himself, to be a papa. This is success. His physical, but more importantly, mental strength urges me to become stronger everyday. His sacrifices which I will never be able to pay back, urges me to make him proud. His long-lasting effect that he will have on me, drives me to achieve even a small amount of success that he has earned. Although I know that the success that I may earn, will never be earned with as much difficulty as my papa, I will earn it for him. By proving that all his tears, sweat, and hard work were not for nothing. This is success. My papa has taught me many lessons. As I have been secretly watching him, working so hard, I have learned so much from him. I have learned from him that hard work can take anyone, anywhere. My papa, a seventeen year old boy, worried about how he was going to adapt into this new country, has now been living in America for over three decades and has finally figured it out. I have learned from him that family should be prioritized, no matter what. My papa who was constantly fatigued from working numerous shifts, always came to his little girl to tell her how much she meant to him. I have learned from him to be kind to everyone, everywhere. My papa who could barely afford to pay his own finances, never hesitated to donate to those in need. My papa has had a huge impact on me, and has made me the person I am today. His hard work, caringness, kindness and so much more, makes up success.

I'm the oldest daughter of immigrant parents. I'm also the test trial, the third parent, and internally an adult with responsibilities. My parents moved to California when they were merely teenagers, babies. They didn't speak the language, they didn't know how it worked around here. When I went to my very first day of school, I didn't know what anyone was saying. I didn't even know how to say "hello." Unfortunately, the other kids took advantage of that. I was bullied, both with words and hands. I lost my excitement about going to school. Of riding on the big yellow bus. Of making new friends. Of learning. But even then, that 5-year-old knew that she had to continue. She had to make her parents proud. Around 2nd-3rd grade, I learned to speak the language. But even then, I was made fun of. I was made fun of for my accent, my two braids that were coated with amla oil, my clothes that were embroidered with silky fabric, and my food that consisted of curry and rice. I cried every day after school. I hid my tears from my parents, both of who were constantly tired and burnt out from working numerous shifts, trying to provide a future for their little girl. Alongside the bullying, I had the pressure of being perfect. I always had to score a 95 or above, or else it felt like my whole world was crumbling. I always had to know everything. Whether that may be interpreting complex words when translating for my parents, or when my younger brother asked for help on his homework. My parents weren't able to help, so I had to. I feel that I have come a far way since that 5-year-old girl. I have learned to deal with the bullying. I have learned to not have unreachable expectations. But most importantly, I have learned to be proud of myself. I want to use my education to inspire other BIPOC or first-generation students, that they can do it. I want them to know that although schooling will be difficult, it is possible. I want to be able to provide resources to those who need it. Whether that may be tutoring, applying for college, or just getting help for their well-being. I believe that having the power of knowledge is so important because it can never be taken away from someone. By having the choice to pursue higher education, I want to help others who have or are experiencing difficulties, like me and tens of thousands of students alike.

My parents don’t know much about this country. What is deemed normal by society, what you should or should not do, what you should or should not say. They moved here when they were teenagers, babies. Leaving their families and everything they knew to a different world, where they knew nothing. No family or friends to ask for help, no assistance, no English. They had to build their way up with hard work, which led to many difficult experiences for them. They sent their little girl to a school, and told her to make them proud. Being the oldest, I was the one to see everything. To see all the difficult situations that my parents dealt with. To see the unfairness they dealt with. This led to being stressed with every task I was given in life. It could be as little as a math test in 2nd grade, but I had to get a good score. If not, panic attacks, crying, screaming, thinking my future was destroyed, thinking that all the bad things my parents had to go through was for nothing. I was a failure. My parents being immigrants didn’t know to deal with a 10 year old with anxiety. They didn’t even know what it was or why their little girl was acting this way. My mom only having me to talk to about her troubles, didn’t make my anxiety any better. Sometimes, she would casually talk about a heartbreaking moment, and as that 2nd grade girl, it affected me deeply. My stress levels would be uncontrollable, and I didn’t know how to cope with it. For every single assignment, quiz, test, I would be the last one to finish, because I couldn’t get a bad score. One “B” would have me thinking that I was the worst thing that could have ever happened. My parents never hurt me, never scolded me, but that promise that I had made to them was something that I couldn’t let go of. The promise that their little girl would do something that would make them proud, was not a easy promise to make. But, I was dedicated, and unfortunately that “dedication” led to the destruction of my mental health. In middle school, when the work got more difficult, my grades were at their worst. Online school, and learning how to work Zoom meetings didn’t make anything easier. There wasn’t anyone to keep me accountable, and I was so burnt out, that I simply didn’t care. My parents tried their best to help me understand but it was hard to, when they didn’t even know what was going on. Eventually, I was able to find help. I now have an amazing group of people, including my therapist, my parents, and friends that help me deal with my anxiety. My parents understand that their little girl is fighting, and that she always will win the battle in the end. Anxiety didn’t just disappear from my life, it still comes, but most importantly it goes too. Anxiety is no joke, and can deeply affect a person. Learning how to overcome it however, is something that has made me stronger than ever.

As a cocoon breaks, out comes a caterpillar and then a beautiful butterfly. The butterfly started as a little egg, as we do, and then went through a beautiful journey to get to where it is today. Growth involves change. Growth involves feeling uncomfortable. Growth is not something that is easy. It takes a long time, and is not an easy process or thing to do. But I’m proud to say that I have grown a lot this past year. This past year I have learned that change is good. I’ve always hated change. Whether that may be moving schools, having to change a class, or even something as little as moving spots for lunch. Whatever it was, I had always hated change. But with small changes throughout the year, I grew as a person. I grew in many ways, and broke out of my “cocoon” many times. But one of my major areas of growth this past year was learning to relax. It might sound dumb or strange to many people to “learn how to relax” but for me it quite an accomplishment. I knew that I had to take action when taking a break after hours and hours, was starting to become optional or a waste of time. More specifically, it was last year, finals week. It was midnight and I had been working since 8pm. I had been working for 4 hours straight, no breaks, no nothing. For some people, 4 hours might seem like nothing but for a teenager, I was exhausted. Completely. And the worst part was that I had school in the morning. My sleep schedule was all over the place, and I was falling asleep in my honors classes. I asked myself one night, “Is this what being a straight ‘A’ student goes through? Is this what a honors student does? Is this the norm for teenagers?” And I replied to myself, “I’m not sure but I’m not going to let it be.” From then, I started to fix my sleep schedule and learned to relax, have fun, and learn that getting a ‘B’ on a test wasn’t the end of the world. Looking back at it, I’m really proud of myself for making that decision on a random December night. Because that one decision saved my mental health, and me. I’m still a good student. I always do my homework, turn in my assignments on time, etc. But I learned that having a balance is key. Taking time for yourself does not mean slacking off. It means to work and rest. I’ve changed with my toxic mindset of breaks, however. Breaks are so precious to me now. Throughout my journey of self-discovery, I have learned that I am a workaholic. Or I used to be. But that’s the part of growing. Learning and reflecting on what you used to be, and what you are now.