TK's BM

Tigidankay Saccoh

English 3

Pahomov

Jan 9, 2017

                                     Best Personal Essay Ever

I sat nestled in between my mother’s legs as she massaged a relaxer into my scalp. She once told me my kinky tresses were my very own majestic lion mane, but after years of yearning to fit in, she relented and tamed the beast on the top of my head. I twiddled my thumbs as she subdued the slayer of all combs, defier of gravity, the eighth wonder of the world : my afro. About thirty minutes later, she rinsed the chemicals out of my hair and my tightly coiled locks metamorphosed into fine strands that cascaded down my shoulders. Light poured through the gap in my teeth as I beamed in front of the bathroom mirror, finally satisfied with my reflection.  I would finally be just like my friends, even though I was never meant to.

For most of my life, fitting in has been a survival technique. When I moved from Freetown, Sierra Leone, to Seattle, Washington, I did what was necessary to resist ostracization. I quickly shed my accent, adopted the moniker “Tigi”, and ditched the traditional west African garbs my grandmother had sewn me. I observed the mannerisms of my all-American classmates and gradually assimilated into their culture. Soon enough, there was a stack of Barbie movie discs next to my mother’s Nollywood collection on the living room book shelf. My new Hannah Montana shirts clashed with the ornate stitching of my Kente cloth in my closet. I spent most of my freetime translating my favorite Krio songs to english in my notebook, in order to eliminate the stark language barrier. Despite all these efforts to successfully integrate into my new surroundings, I remained the odd one out.  

           To be quite frank, there is only so much you can do to blend into the crowd when you are the only black person in the crowd. From kindergarten through third grade, I was the darkest complected amongst my group of peers. I was the girl everyone anticipated a unique reaction from during discussions of slavery in social studies class. In fact, I can still vividly recall expressing audible outrage after learning about segregated water fountains during the Jim Crow era, which Jacob Allen in turn responded “You’re only mad because you’re black”. I was the second grader left out to cry in the rain after my best friends Serena, Claire, and Kristen informed me that I could not “twin” with them on “Twin Day” because my skin color did not match theirs. When I moved to Philadelphia after third grade, I discovered that my struggles with attracting unwanted attention were not unique to my elementary school’s  predominately white student body.

In 2008, my father ecstatically told me about his acceptance to the University of Pennsylvania. Following his release from jail due to a miscarriage of justice, obtaining his green card, and a few years of community college, my dad was especially determined to pursue the enriching education the civil war in Sierra Leone deprived him of. When we moved to Philly in 2009, I began attending Hardy Williams Academy Charter School in southwest Philadelphia. To my surprise, I was no longer teased for being black like I was in Seattle, but instead for not being black enough, despite my bold African features.  “Why do you talk like a white girl?”, were some of the questions funnelled my way.  Being constantly interrogated about why I spoke so “white” and why I was so serious about my academics taught me to erroneously associate intelligence with whiteness, sentiments I later disposed of as I became more knowledgeable.

Before starting ninth grade at Science Leadership Academy, I reflected on what it would mean to be in a community of many different backgrounds. Would it make me less unique? Would anyone find me weird anymore? I thought it was all I ever wanted, to be in a school where I would not be questioned for my differences. I just did not want to relinquish my peculiarness as a result. It was then that I realized I had always enjoyed being special. I did not want to have the same story to share as everyone else, and the dramatic change from attending schools lacking diversity to a school acclaimed for its cultural variance allowed me to firmly grasp this. I was determined to stand out in a school consisting of multiple people who haled from my demographic background and people who had never been able to fit in anywhere else before.

First, I learned to fully embraced my full name. I was still going by TK, but I no longer felt embarrassed telling people my full name. I made no apologies when they could not pronounce it correctly the first time. I accepted that my name, although devoid of deep, insightful significance certainly had a life of its own. Four syllables, each coated with a zesty sauce inspired by many cultures . I could taste cassava leaves and the other West African cuisines familiar to the roof of my mouth when the beautifully crafted vowels and consonants escaped my tongue. This confidence, which had always been inside me, but never truly tapped into, inspired me to join slam poetry. My first poem I shared was about finally being able to appreciate the beauty of my name.  Mr.Kay, my mentor and poetry coach, gave me the nickname TK The Voice (of a Generation) because of the exuberance and assurance I had displayed while reading my poem.

Realizing that I was never meant to be boxed into one category allowed me to thrive in many of my extra-curriculars. A short while after joining slam poetry club, I joined the robotics/engineering club. At the time, the club was primarily male, but that did not deter me from participating. I was no longer letting lack of representation discourage broadening my horizons. I quickly grew accustomed to everyone on the team and in no time I was learning how to use machinery and basics of coding. It made my parents proud to see their young black daughter defying the odds and pursuing a career in engineering. I knew that to be a woman hoping to occupy a profession in the STEM field, would be to exist in a place where I was not fully welcomed. My past, unique experiences prepared me for this feat of course.

In conclusion, realizing that I was never meant to blend in with the crowd has had endless positive effects on my experiences in high school. I have been able to push my boundaries and explore uncharted territory through the extra-curriculars I participate in and the friendships I secure. I have learned how to adapt to changes in environment without forsaking the attributes that make me who I am. This is what makes me confident in who I am today.


VIDEO LINK: https://www.wevideo.com/view/825601005
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Comments (4)

Hadleigh Stammers (Student 2018)
Hadleigh Stammers

I learned a lot about how your many transitions and changes have impacted you and caused you to often feel like you didn't belong. I really like how you closed the essay by turning these things around in a way and explaining all of the positive aspects of being different and how you have grown to appreciate what makes you an individual.

Elani Gonzalez-Ortiz (Student 2018)
Elani Gonzalez-Ortiz
  1. I learned how you felt your whole life while moving from one place to another and that you were always the outside,
  2. I think that you had a well-written essay with very descriptive details.
Elani Gonzalez-Ortiz (Student 2018)
Elani Gonzalez-Ortiz
  1. I learned how you felt your whole life while moving from one place to another and that you were always the outside,
  2. I think that you had a well-written essay with very descriptive details.
Jevon Price (Student 2018)
Jevon Price
  1. I learned that she had an identity crisis from being considered too black to not black enough. She didn't feel as though she belonged.
  2. I liked that she really described her transition of feeling uncomfortable with who she is, to being self assured.