Roots and Branches by Hajar

Roots and Branches by Hajar - February 2024 Scholarship Essay

Whenever I tell people I have seven siblings, the reaction is always immediate and amusing. Jaws drop, gasps are heard, some even stumble in shock.
“You mean full siblings?”
“How old are your parents?”
“How is that even possible?”
I act like it’s no big deal, but having seven siblings is even more complicated than it sounds. Added to our parents’ strict expectations, it fosters quite an extreme environment.
Growing up, everything became a competition. When we were young, we’d fight over who got to recite the du’a before dinner- which is sort of like saying grace for Muslims- because we believed it endeared us to our parents. We competed in academics to make us stand out: I remember my sister running home wailing one day, clutching a crumpled quiz that read 9 out of 10.
As I grew older, I began to think that our petty fights were ridiculous, but that didn’t stop me from continuing to compete. I had to be a model daughter- and unfortunately, that included making personal sacrifices. Although writing nurtured my soul, I gave it up for the sake of grades. As a freshman, I fell in love with the Chinese language, spending hours poring over grammar rules and culture lessons. But my conservative Arab parents found no need for it, so out the window, it went. Babysitting my younger siblings, forgoing outings with friends, diligently performing every chore I was tasked with around the house- all this became second nature to me.
Eventually, I got the praise I strived for. My dad proclaimed me his ‘smartest child’ and my mom said I was destined to be a great pharmacist. I smiled outwardly at their affections, but I wasn’t happy. Approval, it turned out, wasn’t the key to solving everything. My heart was in turmoil, my goals unachieved. I realized that I was going to have to make some changes to my lifestyle if I truly wanted contentment.
Honoring parents is vital in my religion. In Islam, parents are to be respected and obeyed, and for a time, that was all I understood of it. I neglected to realize the beautiful complexity of Islam, that God’s plan doesn’t exclude anyone. Islam also requires you to find peace with yourself on the path to God. I wouldn’t find peace unless I asserted myself, communicating to my parents that I needed to be my own person to succeed. Yes, I would respect them, and yes, I would make them proud- but in my own way, not one that had been fashioned for me since birth.
So I changed my mindset. I would do what I loved, become a journalist and a writer, amidst my parents’ scoffs that it wasn’t a real career. I would stand up for causes that matter to me, take the initiative instead of waiting for events to unfold, despite my sister’s insistence that the risk isn’t worth taking. If everyone thought that way, where would we be? There would be no American Revolution, no Civil Rights movements. No one would remember the accomplishments of Martin Luther King Jr., Malik al Shabazz, Cesar Chavez, Sojourner Truth, Frederick Douglass, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, and countless others. I believe it’s human nature to fight injustice, no matter how much that nature has been suppressed by society or explained away by practicality.
I’m no famous national spokesperson, but I believe there’s a place for me to do the work that I know best, just like there’s a place for all of us. The way I see it, we need less debates and more conversations. We need to celebrate our common ground rather than get tangled up in our differences.
So even though seven siblings sounds like a disaster, I know it doesn’t have to be. No need for competing- each one of us will stand out in our own unique way, forging our own paths while still falling back on our shared roots, like so many branches on the tree of humanity.