The Courage of Children: Boston and Beyond XXXIII

MONICA NASCIMENTO
STEFANIE LYN MACHADO, TEACHER
Keith Middle School, New Bedford, MA
The social groups we identify with end up shaping the person we become, so
what happens when someone doesn’t fit into just one category? People from
multiple cultures and ethnic backgrounds are faced with this dilemma on a
daily basis. They are left to question which aspects of themselves truly reflect
who they are. Who you talk to, what clothes you wear, what language you
use—all are choices that a multicultural student has to make, and all are choices
that require courage, for when someone does not belong to any one specific
group, it is their job to find community.
I was born in Worcester, Massachusetts. My mother was born in Iraq and my
father in Brazil. From the very beginning, my life was divided into three. At
home, I speak Arabic with my mother and sister. My mother speaks with the
fluency of someone who originated from the Middle East, confident and
self-assured. My sister, with all the years she has had to practice, is almost as
good. I stand out. I mix my English with my Arabic until my sentences are not
understandable to anyone outside of my immediate family. Neither fully
American, nor perfectly Middle Eastern. At school, I speak fluent English.
Most of my classmates don’t even know I am bilingual—not that there are
many Arabic-speaking students at my school, and even if there were, I’m not
sure they would understand me.
“I SHOWED COURAGE
BY OVERCOMING
MY ANXIETIES AND
EMBRACING MY
CULTURES.”
To be courageous means to have the power to face a challenge, to have the
strength to move on, and to be yourself. I showed courage by overcoming my
anxieties and embracing my cultures. When you’re overwhelmed with the fear
of being different, you forget that the strongest thing you can do is to be
yourself. So, when asked the question, “What happens when someone doesn’t
fit into just one category?” the best piece of advice that I can offer is to be
courageous, to create for yourself a sense of belonging, and to find the strength
to exist as yourself with no apologies.
You don’t look Arab: a statement I’ve thought a thousand times before. No one’s
ever said this aloud to me, but I’ve lived with the nagging fear that someone
might, so usually I don’t mention that part of myself. It sometimes feels like
a betrayal—to my mom, my sister, our family. Like they might think I’m
ashamed of them. I don’t usually tell people I’m Brazilian, either, but that part
of my identity isn’t as close to me. My father isn’t involved with my life, so
everything in relation to him feels disconnected. Another part of me that I
couldn’t fully understand or embody. All these negative thoughts existed in
my mind for a long time, but eventually, I started to understand what it meant
to be courageous.
THE COURAGE OF CHILDREN: BOSTON AND BEYOND
VOLUME XXXIII
6 7