Finding a Voice by Melat

Finding a Voice by Melat - February 2024 Scholarship Essay

On average, a person speaks approximately 15,942 words every day. However, during an extensive period of my life, I found this to be anything but true. I have never thought myself to be a quiet person, words were never hard to come by. “Zuretam” my family would call me in our native tongue. But the moment I stepped on the grounds of Holly Ridge Elementary, my voice would leave my body. The confused look on my classmates' faces as I failed to respond to their simple questions haunted me. My teacher’s growing concerns led to her initiating a conversation between me and a fellow Ethiopian boy. “Speak,” she said. Excitement fluttered in my stomach as I began to ramble, but the boy failed to respond. The feeling of hopelessness settled in me, as I vowed silently to myself never to speak again.
I was consumed by dread entering Mrs.Bledsoe’s first-grade class, I was tasked by my teacher to share my name and favorite ice cream flavor. I thought hard, “Ice cream?” I was ready “My name is Melat, and my favorite ice cream is pink” My teacher gave me a tight-lipped smile as snickers and giggles filled the room. The feeling of utter humiliation followed me for the next five years of my life. Ensuring that every word I said to my class and peers was kept short and concise before I had the opportunity to mess up. I had grown to hate every part of the language that had raised me, from to small town of Hurmuu Ethiopia over the Mediterranean Sea to the cold streets of Wolverhampton England, and then across the Atlantic to Holly Springs North Carolina. Afan Oromo and Amharic had been the one part of my identity that had followed with me no matter where in the world I was. Through the years, I began to respond to my parents' questions only in English, the Miheret Eftefa songs I loved so dearly had slowly changed into Taylor Swift. Yet, this conformity to my American identity brought me no solace, I longed for the feeling of bravery to speak my truth.
Entering middle school, my accent had gone unrecognizable, and for the first time in my life, I felt normal. Yet, there was a part of me that felt missing. I would go home and be surrounded by my family who would speak freely as their thick Amharic and Oromo accents flow with no shame. The pride they felt in their identity, knowing the different languages they brought from our mother country, yet the contentment they felt adapting the culture and language in their new home in America. Sitting on my couch, as mezmurs by Teddy Afro blasted through our TV, a sense of fulfillment flooded over me. The realization that my flawed English wasn’t a sign of weakness. The ability to communicate, connect, and express in multiple tongues was a blessing that was blinded by fear all my life. It led me to embark on learning new languages. My growing proficiency in Portuguese and Spanish has opened the door to new relationships and experiences.
I learned never to neglect the power of voice, as I ponder back to the shy girl who would shake before she spoke, and cry after every speech therapy lesson. The power and beauty of language is something I’ve only learned in recent years. As I look to my future, I hope to take pride in every stutter and stammer I may make when I speak, to give the strength not only to myself but to others who struggle with expressing their ideas in words. That what they have to say has meaning and value, and ultimately, the possibility to bring change to the world.
My life story has only amplified my desire to study journalism in the future. Living in three different countries throughout my lifetime has taught me the value and beauty of different cultures. As in each corner of the world, I found myself discovering aspects of society I would not have imagined existed. The opportunity to be at the forefront of history as we see society rapidly changing in front of our eyes fills me with exhilaration. Through studies in journalism, I hope to unite cultural and societal gaps. As stereotypes built around certain ethnicities and cultures have inflicted great harm on minorities such as myself. Growing up, I struggled with confidence, as my peers would constantly make fun of my accent, the clothes I wore, and the food I ate. I felt a disconnect between the two distinctly different cultures I was exposed to every day. However, in my pursuit of journalism, I hope I can play a part in the change to destigmatize racial and cultural barriers in society. Journalism has the potential to bridge the misunderstandings between mankind, and I hope through my exploration that I can take a small role in making this a reality.