Written
A collection of various writings from our community, ranging from personal essays to creative writings.
A collection of various writings from our community, ranging from personal essays to creative writings.
Beginning each morning by writing a to-do list, I feel immense satisfaction whenever I cross things off. It signals that I finished this, that I made something of my day. This compulsion for constant productivity, I am sure it stems from the way I was raised. Famously coined by legal scholar and writer Amy Chua, the term “tiger mom” refers to a parental figure with an incredibly authoritative child-rearing style—in other words, my parents.
I should be writing a personal statement for a doctoral program I’m applying to. I should be writing a one-page fluff essay talking about how much my dreams are important to me, how I’d be a good fit for the doctoral cohort, and how much I want to pursue an advanced degree. But I’ve gotten distracted, and I’m writing this instead.
During my freshman year, on weekends, I would take the subway from Morningside Heights, looping around 42nd Street and back up to the Upper East Side to work at a newspaper and magazine store owned by the Chois. Their son, Byung, was a high school friend, who also attended Columbia. He knew I needed work and connected me with his parents.
The first thing that jumped out at me when I met her was her physical weakness. Her hands felt small, thinned with age, soft, and leathery when I took them in mine. She was in a wheelchair, and she wore a patterned pink shirt that fit loosely on her tiny frame.
Five-year-old me was addicted to Barbie.
I watched the movies. I memorized the songs. I pranced around my basement in full fairy-princess costume, twirling a wand and going on imaginary girl-power adventures. I collected dolls– mostly blonde with shimmery pink dresses, or brunettes with light eyes and kind smiles, but there was one doll that always stood out to me the most.
Today, my mother taught me how to make doenjang jjigae.
I had asked her to show me, since I’m moving into an apartment-style at school in August and I won’t have a meal plan.
