BAM BAM! Help Tiana Succeed to Lead
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Hi! I'm Tiana. I'm 15 years old and I go to public school in Portland, Maine. I'm fundraising to go to a marine biology and leadership semester school. It's for sophomore high school girls and has a strong focus in coastal experimentation, identity reflection, and social and environmental community values. This semester school, Coastal Studies for Girls, would aid me in developing my values and help me become the person I want to be. I strongly believe in stepping up lending a hand to those who need it. It's a courage everyone should have, even though it's hard. We all have an inherent urge to do and be something more. Coastal Studies for Girls can help me delevop the tools to take action in helping others on a larger scale.
Full tuition to Coastal Studies for Girls is $23,000. I am endeavoring to raise $15,000 of that money myself. Tuition is due in December of 2016. This summer I am planning to both work full-time and vigorously fundraise on a community level to add as much money possible to this goal, but I need as much help as I can get!
I would be over the moon for any size donation. Attending this program means an enormous amount to me and my future, and if you could help me get there I will pay it forward manifold. I'm super excited about this opportunity. You have my eternal gratitude.
If you want to know more about me, feel free to read my admissions essay below!
Sprawled out on the couch, I watched Sleeping Beauty. The ethereal figure of Princess Aurora danced across the screen, golden hair flashing in her wake. My five year old self thought, she’s the most beautiful person in the world. I wish I looked just like her. Once again, princess Aurora gracefully twirled on screen- all fair skin, button nose, and luscious blond curls. Suddenly, a horrifying thought flashed across my mind. I don’t look anything like the princess, and I probably won't ever. I reached up to touch my wide nose and fine black hair, a stab of disappointment piercing my young heart. My eyes fell to my lap and I murmured, “Mom, can I dye my hair blond?”
I was born in Vinh Phuc, Vietnam. This simple fact has been one of the biggest challenges I have overcome. Afterall, I look mighty Asian. You can’t miss it. However, being and looking Asian in a predominantly white country means that I perpetually appear different. I definitely looked unusual in my childhood community. When you’re an Asian in Greenfield, Massachusetts, there’s no “fitting in.” In my diversity-free kindergarten class, I was constantly wondering why no one in my school looked like me. I felt alienated and hurt because I inferred that my ethnicity made me look misplaced. I also thought it made me look ugly. The princess movies I so adored always featured a white lady. Princess Aurora was the only standard of beauty I knew. I overcame this impediment when I moved to Portland, Maine, where diversity comes by the dozen. Seeing others like me made me realize that looking different does not make me invalid. In fact, it has spurred me to get me involved in social justice. Ultimately, being confused as a kid has only given me clarity as a teenager.
Being adopted, I’ve had some trouble connecting with my heritage. Some Korean girls I met once told me, “You’re basically a white person in an Asian body.” Afterwards, I wanted to know what it meant to be Asian, but I could not find an answer. Contemplating my adoption led me to solace. Sometimes, when I tell people about my being adopted they have abrasive responses. They tell me that my adoptive family is not my “real” family, unable to comprehend that true family has nothing to do with genetics. This is what led to my epiphany. What it means to be Asian does not matter, because I choose my identity. I am an American. Where I was born does not matter because I know where I am from: the Urey family of Greenfield, Massachusetts. My biological parents, although important, do not define who I am.
Recently, a classmate teased me about my ethnicity by mimicking Asian languages and squinting. Events such as these make me feel like my true place of birth, my history, are considered unimportant. I made peace with the matter by finding the courage to report the aforementioned classmate. Finally, speaking out was all I needed. It also inspired me to encourage others to do the same. Recently, a friend was bullied for his gender. He was initially hesitant to report the incident, but I walked him through the complaint process and stood by his side while he spoke with the principal. Giving him the liberation I felt when I stepped forward gave the stereotyping a purpose I had never considered.
I have thought an enormous amount on the subject of my ethnicity. This excessive introspection has led me to be not only acutely aware of myself, but more sympathetic towards others. It’s not fun being the odd one out, so if I see someone in that situation, I try to remedy it. Being strange, not only as a result of race but for any other reason, is a common experience. It’s often easy to recognize when a person feels this way. However, don’t let that person be the wary Vietnamese kid hiding at recess; don’t let that person be alone. A semester at Coastal Studies for Girls would allow me to further grapple with my identity, thus enabling me to reach out to others undergoing the same ordeals I have experienced. We live in a connected world. Everyone who has ever felt different should have the courage to step forward lend a hand. In our shared yet unique experiences is where we can find that essential, inherent urge to do and be something more.
Full tuition to Coastal Studies for Girls is $23,000. I am endeavoring to raise $15,000 of that money myself. Tuition is due in December of 2016. This summer I am planning to both work full-time and vigorously fundraise on a community level to add as much money possible to this goal, but I need as much help as I can get!
I would be over the moon for any size donation. Attending this program means an enormous amount to me and my future, and if you could help me get there I will pay it forward manifold. I'm super excited about this opportunity. You have my eternal gratitude.
If you want to know more about me, feel free to read my admissions essay below!
Sprawled out on the couch, I watched Sleeping Beauty. The ethereal figure of Princess Aurora danced across the screen, golden hair flashing in her wake. My five year old self thought, she’s the most beautiful person in the world. I wish I looked just like her. Once again, princess Aurora gracefully twirled on screen- all fair skin, button nose, and luscious blond curls. Suddenly, a horrifying thought flashed across my mind. I don’t look anything like the princess, and I probably won't ever. I reached up to touch my wide nose and fine black hair, a stab of disappointment piercing my young heart. My eyes fell to my lap and I murmured, “Mom, can I dye my hair blond?”
I was born in Vinh Phuc, Vietnam. This simple fact has been one of the biggest challenges I have overcome. Afterall, I look mighty Asian. You can’t miss it. However, being and looking Asian in a predominantly white country means that I perpetually appear different. I definitely looked unusual in my childhood community. When you’re an Asian in Greenfield, Massachusetts, there’s no “fitting in.” In my diversity-free kindergarten class, I was constantly wondering why no one in my school looked like me. I felt alienated and hurt because I inferred that my ethnicity made me look misplaced. I also thought it made me look ugly. The princess movies I so adored always featured a white lady. Princess Aurora was the only standard of beauty I knew. I overcame this impediment when I moved to Portland, Maine, where diversity comes by the dozen. Seeing others like me made me realize that looking different does not make me invalid. In fact, it has spurred me to get me involved in social justice. Ultimately, being confused as a kid has only given me clarity as a teenager.
Being adopted, I’ve had some trouble connecting with my heritage. Some Korean girls I met once told me, “You’re basically a white person in an Asian body.” Afterwards, I wanted to know what it meant to be Asian, but I could not find an answer. Contemplating my adoption led me to solace. Sometimes, when I tell people about my being adopted they have abrasive responses. They tell me that my adoptive family is not my “real” family, unable to comprehend that true family has nothing to do with genetics. This is what led to my epiphany. What it means to be Asian does not matter, because I choose my identity. I am an American. Where I was born does not matter because I know where I am from: the Urey family of Greenfield, Massachusetts. My biological parents, although important, do not define who I am.
Recently, a classmate teased me about my ethnicity by mimicking Asian languages and squinting. Events such as these make me feel like my true place of birth, my history, are considered unimportant. I made peace with the matter by finding the courage to report the aforementioned classmate. Finally, speaking out was all I needed. It also inspired me to encourage others to do the same. Recently, a friend was bullied for his gender. He was initially hesitant to report the incident, but I walked him through the complaint process and stood by his side while he spoke with the principal. Giving him the liberation I felt when I stepped forward gave the stereotyping a purpose I had never considered.
I have thought an enormous amount on the subject of my ethnicity. This excessive introspection has led me to be not only acutely aware of myself, but more sympathetic towards others. It’s not fun being the odd one out, so if I see someone in that situation, I try to remedy it. Being strange, not only as a result of race but for any other reason, is a common experience. It’s often easy to recognize when a person feels this way. However, don’t let that person be the wary Vietnamese kid hiding at recess; don’t let that person be alone. A semester at Coastal Studies for Girls would allow me to further grapple with my identity, thus enabling me to reach out to others undergoing the same ordeals I have experienced. We live in a connected world. Everyone who has ever felt different should have the courage to step forward lend a hand. In our shared yet unique experiences is where we can find that essential, inherent urge to do and be something more.
Organizer
Tiana Urey
Organizer
Portland, ME