Today I finally completed my graduate school applications. After much time spent gathering transcripts, articulating personal statements and hounding former profs and employers for recommendation letters, I dropped the end result into the nearest USPS mailbox, thereby taking them out of my hands and placing them into God's. Thankfully, the only things left to do now are to wait, pray and be grateful. I must wait because it is in this period that patience is strengthened. I must pray because I want God's Will for my life. I must be grateful because many women were not and are not privileged to pursue higher education in the way that I have been blessed to do.
I'm in the process of reading Lalita Tademy's "Red River," the sequel to her first novel "Cane River." Both novels expound upon events that occurred in the histories of her father's and mother's families, respectivey. Her writing has inspired me to research my own family's history, which is proving itself to be an arduous yet fulfilling task. In this process, I've come to fully realize how valuable education was to those who were forbidden from obtaining it. As a race, Blacks have bounded from not being able to read, write, or reason without fear of retribution to a place where we are now fortunate to (and in many instances, expected to) pursue bachelor's, master's, and doctoral degrees. This ancestral research has led to my feelings of regret for choosing to sit out a year after graduation and also once viewing my bachelor's degree as the endpoint of my formal education. Beyond ancestry, I feel that I also have an obligation towards the millions of women globally whose governments and societies prohibit them from attending school. After reading this story concerning young Afghan girls who had acid thrown in their faces while walking to school, I felt like I was committing a strong disservice not only to myself, but to all of those historically and presently who have been denied such a great and wondrous opportunity for betterment and empowerment.
In this period of acceptance letter anticipation, I choose to be grateful for privilege. Not just for the privilege of obtaining education, but for the privilege of being able to express my own ideas and thoughts, the privilege of being able to make declarations about my faith, and the privilege to oppose my government without fear of imprisonment, torture or worse. I hold on to this gratitude because I really know how fragile privilege can be; at any moment what I hold to be an inherent right can be taken from me at any time. Until that day, I will be thankful. I will praise God for the ability to go further and abound more greatly than those that have come before me. Beyond that, I am grateful that I can expect my daughter to surpass her mother's level of capability. Ain't that good news?
Indeed it is... PEACE
I'm in the process of reading Lalita Tademy's "Red River," the sequel to her first novel "Cane River." Both novels expound upon events that occurred in the histories of her father's and mother's families, respectivey. Her writing has inspired me to research my own family's history, which is proving itself to be an arduous yet fulfilling task. In this process, I've come to fully realize how valuable education was to those who were forbidden from obtaining it. As a race, Blacks have bounded from not being able to read, write, or reason without fear of retribution to a place where we are now fortunate to (and in many instances, expected to) pursue bachelor's, master's, and doctoral degrees. This ancestral research has led to my feelings of regret for choosing to sit out a year after graduation and also once viewing my bachelor's degree as the endpoint of my formal education. Beyond ancestry, I feel that I also have an obligation towards the millions of women globally whose governments and societies prohibit them from attending school. After reading this story concerning young Afghan girls who had acid thrown in their faces while walking to school, I felt like I was committing a strong disservice not only to myself, but to all of those historically and presently who have been denied such a great and wondrous opportunity for betterment and empowerment.
In this period of acceptance letter anticipation, I choose to be grateful for privilege. Not just for the privilege of obtaining education, but for the privilege of being able to express my own ideas and thoughts, the privilege of being able to make declarations about my faith, and the privilege to oppose my government without fear of imprisonment, torture or worse. I hold on to this gratitude because I really know how fragile privilege can be; at any moment what I hold to be an inherent right can be taken from me at any time. Until that day, I will be thankful. I will praise God for the ability to go further and abound more greatly than those that have come before me. Beyond that, I am grateful that I can expect my daughter to surpass her mother's level of capability. Ain't that good news?
Indeed it is... PEACE
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