Not Your Regular Personal Statement
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Politics and Activism

Not Your Regular Personal Statement

Why I Never "Fit In"

Not Your Regular Personal Statement

Personal Statement Prompt:

In order to get into this University, in a minimum of 800 words, be as cliché as possible by telling us what makes you unique. Tell us how we can benefit from these qualities as well as any obstacles that have been a challenge in your path towards success. Sell yourself! Deadline: Yesterday, because we want this to be impossible for you.

Full Name: I Matter------Date: Somewhere between 1960 and 2016

Anytime I walk into a new place, I am nervous because I do not know what to expect. I shift through the doors, trying to look as confident as I can so that I do not stand out. It is hard not to stand out! They turn around and look at me, with these beady piercing eyes, trying to analyze why I am in this place. I do not fit in; I am not trying to! But the stares make it almost impossible to not feel like every cell in my body is being penetrated by thousands of needles. I do not belong here! I feel my body tense up as it is overcome by the heat of discomfort. My palms begin to sweat and my vision is blurry. I am dizzy now and trying hard not to pass out, which would make more of a scene.

I worry, “maybe they won’t like me” and these doubts cloud my judgment, making it even harder to cope with my unfamiliar surroundings. What’s crazy is, I am in a grocery store, or the bank. Simple places like these still make me uneasy because I do not know why all these eyes are glued to me like I am on exhibit. But I look different and that’s what makes all the difference in how they (whoever they are) perceive me. I simply do not fit in.

Sometimes it is a race thing, but other times it is a category thing and by that I mean, where I fit in on the spectrum. To them (whoever they are), I’m just Black and it is not hard to miss that. To others also known as my own, I’m too Black, mixed, or not Black enough (more than one of these can be applied at the same time). After this judgment is passed, mentally, I am put on a shelf like an item in the grocery store. Now I am produce, like a yam, but what I can produce is held to a different standard. Hence, they too figure I don’t belong but I wish they would understand since we are all Black in the eyes of them (whoever they are), I do. Some, but not all of my community is caught up in a cycle of self-hatred, where even we classify each other because of the past's relationship with today's issues.

My nerves when entering new places stems from fear. Fear of the bombs dropped on my neighborhood, disgusted as a “care package”, but it is filled with drugs and guns. Thus, I walk around scared of my own people who are either zombies of narcotics or cowboys with clips, extenders, and quick draw. I look with disappointment at my community and the violence being bred into it daily. It is sad that we are all made out to be innately violent and this is why. However, I have to wonder if the materials provided were intended to do harm by our own hands. I want to make a change, but when you don’t partake in the "savagery," they judge you for trying to make it out of a black hole. Now even they tell me, “I don’t belong” because I’d rather be awake (“woke”) than live in a nightmare.

Aside from the fear of my own, I am riddled by the fear of them (whoever they are) because they might shoot me while I am unarmed, or kill me in custody, calling it suicide. Fear also comes with the reminder that I could be gunned down anywhere, even alone in a park as a 12-year-old. I might even be slain in broad daylight on camera and left dead on the streets for hours. One day, my fate could even include me dying by an illegal choke hold, “I can’t breathe” being my last words. However, I would be painted as the individual who sold illegal cigarettes. The media makes me a monster who deserved to die since I fought for my life.

Now, if I speak out against or on these things, I am being: a racist, an extremist, anti-this, or anti-that when really all I am trying to do is provide insight on who I am and what I experience. But God forbid I anger them (whoever they are). It would be an outrage because I am the one who is stereo-typically deemed dangerous; what would I know about what’s right? They would say I deserved it. If I form a movement to protest injustice, they would say I am promoting the violence they assume I am born with.

I am unique because I don't care what they say because I Matter, but I should not have to tell you that; my human qualities alone should address why I do. My personal statement is a series of events that happen in the Black community, which are a constant obstacle. The Black Lives Matter movement is not one of violence or negativity. It highlights the atrocities we face within an unbalanced justice system, a society of undercover racism, and a people that are conditioned by oppression. The movement expresses the constant struggle for the recognition of our unfair treatment.

You are probably wondering who I am by now. Well, I am the experience of young Black male or female, living in a society where we still have to say, “Hashtag, Black Lives Matter” (#BlackLivesMatter). I am an individual who was targeted for “driving while Black” and when I speak of these events that dehumanize me, some way, somehow, I am in the wrong. I am someone who does not belong to them (whoever they are) for the simple fact that I refuse to belong anywhere I am not wanted or treated poorly. Since we have been formally introduced, how can we help make an industry of oppression “Great Again”?

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.

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