Dear Mom,

For more than three-quarters of my life, your words were my motivation to work harder. Those words encouraged me, inspired me, yet haunted me.

I would not have been who I am today if it weren’t those words: “XX did better.”

That XX could be your colleague’s daughter, your friend’s son, or my classmate. You could pull comparisons between me and anyone. You got a 4 in AP Human Geography? XX got a 5. You became a speaker for an event? XX was the valedictorian. You got in Lehigh University? XX got in Harvard and honestly, I had never heard of Lehigh before.

I have no doubt that you only meant to make me realize my place and encourage me to do better, but call me too sensitive—those words hurt. They even changed my motive to pursue certain things. For a while, I only threw myself at different opportunities to prove that I was capable.

Growing up in a Chinese family, I have learned to be humble. In Chinese culture, being humble is a sign of respect and wisdom. While I do not disagree with any of these aspects, I do have a different interpretation of the same concept. I believe that it is okay to be proud.

I take credit for my achievements and am proud of what I have done. I have the absolute right to say that, yes, I can be better, but I am successful in my definition.

Maybe XX got a higher AP Human Geography score than me, but my experience in AP Human Geography experience was life-changing. It ignited my interest in architecture and inspired me to pursue it in college. I am loving every minute I spend in the studio, even though the final model or drawing might not earn me an A. The persistent and passion are what I call pride.

Maybe XX writes and articulates better than me, but as a former ESL student and a third culture kid who moves around the world every so often, I couldn’t ask for more when other students recognized me as some sort of a representative. I usually don’t spend enough time at one place to be recognized at all, and being an English learner constantly reminds me how foreign, inexperienced, and peculiar I am.

Maybe XX got in a more prestigious school than me, but I have been living my college years to the fullest. Without Lehigh the "no-name" school, I would not be where I am right now—getting an undergraduate research grant in my first semester, designing the logo for a campus-wide event, being an international orientation leader, involved in several clubs as an officer, and being the school mascot at graduation (lol).

Mom, I am better than what you say I am.

Being proud of my achievement does not mean that I am not aware of the room for improvement. Of course, there are always better people in every field, and I have various role models for each one. I observe and learn along the way. Mom, one thing you never mentioned when you spilled those magical words was that the XX’s were all different people — there is no single person that can top me in every aspect in life. I am sure it is within our traditional value to learn from one’s strengths and avoid the weaknesses.

Also, I don’t see pride and as an antonym of respect or an obstacle to success. I don’t stop learning because I have an A in class; I don’t stop taking responsibilities because I already have a good enough resume. Instead, pride drives me to study harder, to be more curious, to get more involved on campus, to practice my leadership skills more often… so that I deserve my achievements.

Mom, if you ever stumble upon this article, you might say, "You are an Odyssey writer? You are just this insecure that you needed to write an article about how good you are, and by the way, XX’s is writing for a much better-known social media platform."

But mom, I just want you to know that being proud is a kind of confidence, and I have it.