Abington High School Student Arts Magazine 2016-2017 | Page 59

What I find most difficult in taking standardized tests is the personal information they have me fill out. Now most people would be afraid of the essays and prompts that would come for a test, but for me, what used to haunt me was the boxes they would have me check off. Asking me what ethnicity I am or what race I’m identified as. All my years in school have taught me information on this so called “real world”, math, science, history and extracurricular activities. All these years I was told this is what I needed to help me get through life and adulthood, but as I grow up I am beginning to understand that there is much more than that. The checked off boxes are apparently what defines me as a person.

I came into this world a continent apart and a world away. It surprises most when I state that I was born in Algeria. According to society, I have to be black in order to be born from Africa. What is even more shocking to people is that my father looks like the stereotypical Irish man, but he was born and had grown up in Africa as well. I moved to America as a 2 year old but regularly go back to visit, as I have many family members living there. Life is a lot different between these two homelands of mine. When the question of what ethnicity or race is brought up to me, I reply with shameful ignorance, as I don’t know for myself. Both of my worlds see me as an outsider. I hadn’t been fully raised in Algeria, so I am not seen as a true part of that society. With America, I am seen as someone else that simply just wasn’t born here although I lived here, almost all of my life. Both these worlds of mine push me out, and I am stuck in the middle, struggling within myself to figure out who I truly am a part of in society.

For years, I have dealt with these this predicament in silence. I sat and watched. I never forced myself into a part of either world. I always had it in the back of my mind to change myself just to be a part of one of these worlds. Just to get some acceptance. I do not ask for pity as I have been able to embrace my situation. I’m not going to say I ‘got through’ this phase as I don’t look at it as a phase. This is me, the kid who would become angry when another child was kicked out from our group when playing at the mosque. The kid who felt bad for even the most evil of people. The kid whose father stated the actions of people are what you hate, not the people themselves. The man who learned to embrace his options, even when they weren’t there.

So yes, once upon a time I absolutely hated filling out those boxes because of the fear of becoming no more to the proctors than a check marked box. But overtime, aided with my experiences, I was able to overcome the fear of not having my own box. All along, I was trying to figure out what box I would fit in, when the box I was looking for was one that was reserved within me all this time.

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