History, Her Story, My Story by Taylor

History, Her Story, My Story by Taylor - April 2014 Scholarship Essay

I smiled a wide toothless smile as I stood on the wooden stage, willing my body to keep still as I waited for my turn. “Ah, the Renaissance!” I blurted out as the last letter of my classmate’s line slipped off his tongue. My delivery was hurried but I had shouted out my line. I soaked in the applause as I waved to the audience, convinced they were clapping for my glorious one-liner and my Broadway smile. My fascination with history began with this second grade play about the Harlem Renaissance. Since that day on stage, history has dazzled me.

As the authors of our own play, we were required to read extensively about history. When my second grade teacher warned us of the workload, I scoffed. After all, I had devoured every book in the fictional Junie B. Jones series and just like the plucky Junie, I was ready to take on any challenge. When my teacher assigned Black Stars of the Harlem Renaissance, my first non-fiction book, it stayed in my hands as though it was covered in Monster Glue. I could not put it down; in it I discovered historical figures just as irrepressible as Junie herself.

Ten years later (with all of my teeth intact) I landed a part in a new “play”. My single line had been expanded to a campaign speech. Although the audience was a small group of my closest friends, I was sweating bullets. As I approached my teammates on an early Saturday morning, their eyes seemed to pierce right through me. My hands began to quiver and, my legs begged me to retreat as I drew closer. I could see that my congenial opponent was already speaking to the teenage girls, and her smile quickly extinguished when she saw me. I closed my eyes and faces flashed through my mind: Marian Anderson, Madam CJ Walker, Nina Simone.

I reflected on the fearless, creative spirits of women I had studied. When I looked up again, all eyes were on me. I slowly stepped forward and explained why I should be chosen as crew team captain. I have prepared for leadership by studying great leaders: analyzing the fiery conviction in Malcolm X’s eyes and embracing the peaceful confidence of Mohandas Gandhi's smile. I have emulated Harriet Tubman’s determination and marveled at the grace of Coretta Scott King. For me, history is not about memorizing facts and figures but rather understanding what people have done in the past to create the present. While I may not be able to rattle off the dates of every battle in history, I am able to make connections between the historical causes of conflict and the effects on people. I brought my historically informed perspective to bear as I strove to become a leader in my own right.

The content of my speech was our personal history, the story of Philadelphia’s first inner city rowing team. Despite our inexperience, second hand equipment, ragtag uniforms, and the jeers from our private school rivals, we had become competitive in merely four years. I reminded my teammates of our struggles as well as victories, and pledged to unify us. After polite applause and a secret ballot, the results were in. I had lost the election. I walked up to the freshly crowned captain, hiding my puffy red eyes, and gave her a long, supportive hug.

Ironically, losing the election was an important milestone in my development. In the leaders I studied, I noticed a common thread: courage, persistence, and a willingness to sacrifice for others. Now I am aware of another essential quality - resilience after defeat. As I travel from one of life’s stages to the next, I will carry the faces and voices of history’s leaders. They inspire me to keep striving to make a difference. I will savor their stories and pass them on.

Ah, the Renaissance.