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I am the product of the nineties. Of plaster perfect Barbies adjoined to their plastic doll house counterparts. I refused to play with mine until my mom found a Barbie that resembled the race of every continent.
I am the product of a Brittney, Christina, N-Sync, and Back Street Boys empire. Yet, my most nostalgic harmonies come from dancing to Motown, Marvin Gay, and Earth, Wind & Fire in the living room with my dad.
I am the product of a PlayStation crazed society, of Mario Carts and Pack Man. Except, while every kid became possessed over Mario Brothers I developed a fascination with a football. I still have scars from flag football at the park with the boys; I never have cared if I am the only girl.
I am the product of simplicity: the Easy Bake Oven. I purposely broke mine the first day I received it, and almost burned down my kitchen while trying to make a cake from scratch instead. Because I refused to get another one, my mom finally complied with my request to take a cooking class. I was the youngest one there and eventually got to wear a chief’s toque and teach a class with the instructor because I couldn’t stop giving my opinions.
I am the product of the new millennia. While everyone agonized over our computers switching from 1999 to 2000, I went door to door taking interviews of different opinions about what our new world would be like. Unfortunately, my mom still has the video of our neighbors shocked faces when this six year old girl was standing at their front door with a microphone extended in expectancy.
I am the product of a Harry Potter/ Twilight teenage take over. Though I still find that I am the only one who prefers biographies in my age group; I have learned more from the lenses of Adams, Kennedy, and Ismael Beah than any three hundred page fiction could ever teach me.
I am the product of the Clinton infatuation, of scandal, affair, and an economic surplus. Now I am the product of partisan tension, governmental distrust, and a growing deficit. And someday I expect to be the product of a strengthening nation, joined by economic stability, equality, and compassion instead of war.
I am the product of a country devastated by the acts on 9/11. I was fascinated by all the American flags I saw; but instead of only displaying my own country’s symbol, I used all of my printer’s paper- to my mother’s dismay- to print out the flags from all over the world to see a form of their pride as well.
I am the product of parents born in the sixties. I respect and admire no other decade more, for without the riots, protests, and unrest my parents would never have been able to get married. I am the product of a biracial household. My love of diversity is the product of holding my mother’s white hand and appreciating that it is not the same as I hold my father’s black hand; but grasping the truth that they really have no difference than the pigment in their skin. Flesh shaped by bone, joints attached to ligaments and blood through veins.
I am the product of technology; of a world intertwined through language, distinctive by culture, and powered by influence. I fix my sights on using this technology to develop my own commercial real estate business, and eventually expand it internationally to experience the cultures that I have only heard about and dream of exploring.
I am the product of America. I am the product of Alexander Hamilton’s Bank of the United States, Thomas Jefferson’s Louisiana Purchase, and Fourth of July fireworks. I am the product of the fast food industry, high profiled celebrities, and social media networks. I am the product of traditional standards and unconventional wisdom.
I am the product of so much more than a simple profile of academics.