I was five when I entered my first science fair. I had done an experiment to see how yeast responded in different temperatures of water and concentrations of sugar. I didn’t win that year, but I did win in my next science fair, and my next, and my next. In my life I’ve won several first place science trophies, many prestigious awards and was nominated for the Discovery Challenge at eight years old. Needless to say, I was a science minded kid. I excelled in science courses from chemistry to psychology finding anything scientific fascinating.

When I got to college, it was a no brainer for me to declare myself a Chemistry major and an English minor.

That’s correct; Chemistry major, English minor. I’d gotten plenty of questions when I told people my future B.A. degree label such as “but aren’t those subjects so different?”, “what makes you like English?”, “Do you just enjoy reading books?” I learned to brush the questions off and respond either sarcastically or very lamely, but I never questioned my allegiance to the hard sciences and I never questioned why I was the loudest in the room when it came to making fun of humanities majors.

I’m sure you’ve guessed, but I was afraid and ashamed.

I had spent most of my life plastering my walls, my computer, my Facebook and body with science humor and “nerd” pride. At one point I even had priced the cost to tattoo a dopamine molecule onto my shoulder. Science, I thought, was my life. I thought it had to be.

I am the oldest of five children from a mixed family. My youngest sibling was two years old when I entered college and I wanted, more than anything, for them to know that we might be poor but we sure as hell weren’t hopeless. I wanted them to know that they could be or do anything they wanted and that people who said differently because of their skin color or social status should be ignored. In doing this I had classified being successful as having a doctorate and published theories that were acclaimed within the science field without looking introspectively at what I needed or wanted as a person.

I was awarded a National Science Foundation scholarship my sophomore year which allowed me to go to school practically debt free. I was both relieved and terrified. I had my class schedule picked out for myself from my first semester until graduating, allowing me to take one English course per semester. This course was meant to be my “de-stresser,” the thing that allowed me to do well in my S.T.E.M. courses.

I wasn’t doing well though. I spent more time dedicated to perfecting an essay and reading my English assignments than I did memorizing chemical structures. My procrastination was spent creating fictional worlds and participating in flash fiction groups online.

I felt hopelessly lost as I muddled through exams and labs. Then my teacher told me a quote from Jessica Hische that said, “The work you do while you procrastinate is probably the work you should be doing for the rest of your life.” The thought that I’d major as anything that wasn’t related to science was shattering. I felt like my professor was telling me I wasn’t good enough to be in S.T.E.M. I had built a world around one piece of my identity without realizing I’d been nurturing and caring for different aspects of myself for so long it felt as though if I gave up sciences that I’d be shattering my who I was.

It took an entire summer for me to process that maybe sciences weren't my passion. Perhaps success was not defined by scientific prestige but personal acceptance. I realized what I had known all along, that what I wanted my siblings to know was that they did not have to mold themselves to be accepted; that we are perfect individuals no matter what.

I am going into my senior year, as an English Major and Psychology Minor, and I’ve never felt so right.