Who am I? I do not think that anyone could truly put the person that they are into concrete sentences. It is nearly impossible to encapsulate a daughter, sister, student, friend and so much more into a few hundred simple words. Above anything else, I am made of the experiences in my life, and the people who have brought them to me. I do not have the capacity to describe every impactful instance in my life that has shaped me into the girl I am now. Even so, I will do my best.
My dad is from rural Michigan. It is a place of rednecks and green trees, loons calling from the lakes in the dewy mornings. When I visit there, I remember the history of people before me, living among the secluded natural parts of the world.
My mom is from a small town in Wisconsin. It is a place of culture and theatre, community united despite many differences. When I visit there, I remember that the most natural part of humanity is caring for one another, attempting to ensure that, together, we all thrive.
I have grown up in a bursting suburban town in coastal South Carolina, mere miles away from historic Charleston. It is a place of opportunities and lethargic summer heat waves, revolutionary ghosts rising from the downtown streets that have been walked upon since before the days of American independence.
My school contains around 2,500 students, with about 650 in my class alone. Within this melting pot of athletes, artists and academics, I found my place in a dimly lit downstairs classroom that once belonged to the welding class. Now, banners hang from the pipes. Stickers (and “do not touch” signs) cover the heavy machinery. The garage door only opens to distribute the representative voice of our student body. We are the Student Media of Wando High School.
I am a writer and copy editor for the Tribal Tribune newsmagazine, entering my third year of high school and my second year on the staff. I have been published in four newsmagazines and 16 online stories. Yet, every single time that I see my name on a page or a screen, an indescribable thrill races through me. The privilege and responsibility of informing my peers is not lost on me, and it has shaped my high school years.
When I sit down to write, I bring with me the people and places of my past. When I write about the importance of environmental sustainability, I call upon a lakeside cabin in Michigan. When I write about a school play, I reach for that nonprofit amphitheater in Wisconsin. In every single thing I write, I feel the pressure of the history that echoes from downtown, and the expectations of the future of the boomtown outside my doorstep.
If I am writing, then so are the people, places, and experiences that have shaped me.
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