October 27, 2021
College Essay
As I was doing my hair, my gaze drifted to the picture on my mirror: my great-great-aunt Mahoukri with a gun in her hand and amo across her chest. I paused for a moment to study the details of the image and was transported back to a tragic time for my family, the Armenian Genocide. I felt the strength in my posture match hers as I imagined what it would be like to fight with her. Although the circumstances were horrible, I craved for the opportunity to experience her determination firsthand, especially considering that she is the origin of my own spiritedness. I came back to reality as my eyes flew to the clock in a panic realizing that I had to leave in five minutes.
I could feel the anticipation slowly building inside of me as the unknown of my first protest was growing closer. This feeling amplified as I heard the passion of the crowd the second my mom and I stepped out of the car, despite having to park blocks away. As we walked closer, I finally saw the people gathered around the state house and was in complete awe. Women and men of all ages filled the green space, some even with their children. I could not help but to stop and gaze in astonishment. A woman’s voice boomed over a loudspeaker: “Women’s reproductive rights should not be in the hands of politicians!” The people around me shouted in agreement while waving their signs. My mom nudged me and pointed further up in the crowd. I spotted what she was pointing at immediately, a sign that read “Can’t believe we still have to protest this s***.” These signs that I could reach out and touch-- so much more powerful than ones I had seen in the news-- filled me with inspiration. To my right was an elderly woman, who came with two of her friends, holding a sign that said: “The Future is Female.” Her friend held up a sign saying “My Body, My Choice.” Upon seeing these women, I turned to my left and saw many women over sixty, a demographic that I did not anticipate would be a part of the protest.
I whispered to my mom, “I’m surprised to see a majority of older women here. I expected more of a turnout from younger generations.” To this she responded, “Why? They were the ones who had to fight for it first.” Her words stayed with me as I digested the significance of them. It is ridiculous that they are still fighting for the same issues so many years later. While contemplating this thought, the essence of it changed as I came to another realization. By standing there amongst protesters, I felt remarkably more hopeful than I had in a long time. Even though I was surrounded by strangers, I was united with them on a much larger scale. It was completely different than walking past people on the street or having a conversation with a barista at a coffee shop. We were a unified group of people in our battle for human rights, and with that comes strength. These are my people. Every single one of them.
As the crowd began to depart, I finally felt that sense of purpose and belonging that I had been searching for all these years. This is where I am supposed to be. There is nothing else in the world I can imagine myself doing. This is my destiny. These thoughts brought me back to aunt Mahoukri; she chose to become a freedom fighter after losing her family, which for a woman in the early 1900s, was truly extraordinary. Even if our fights are vastly different, it is clear to me that I am continuing her battle. I, too, strive to be as extraordinary as her in my fight for human rights.