After having been called so many names, I turned my back to my peers and walked away. Walked away from the swarm of students, walked away from school, and walked away from my problems, only to realize I would have to return to them the following day.

My religion is in my blood. My grandfather is a Sikh, my dad is a Sikh, and so am I. Part of being a Sikh is keeping your hair, due to this fact, when I was growing up, I had to face the harsh criticism from my peers.

Being a child, any child as a matter of fact, is hard. When I was younger, I was always doubting myself, wondering if I would ever fit in and become successful. I was the only one with a turban in my class. Every time I raised my hand to answer the question, I could feel the judging looks my classmates sent me and the rumors about me starting. During this time, derogatory words and slurs pierced through my mind. I had come to understand the meaning of being a victim of bullying.

Overcoming this discrimination did not happen overnight. With the support of my family and teachers, I joined extracurricular activities such as sport teams, internships, and school clubs that built my leadership skills and helped me adjust to working with people. Instead of running from my problems, I faced them. I would talk to people who did not understand my religion and took classes to learn more about my heritage. In a sense, these bullies had come as a blessing in disguise.

I have realized that I do not want any other child to face what I had to go through. It may be a hard goal to achieve, but if I start now, I will hopefully leave a mark. Overall, my aspirations are to not only uplift myself through striving towards educational opportunities, but also become a role model for global stewardship and communal altruism, creating a platform to end stereotypical ideals on all religions.

Reflecting on my past, I see a young boy – the first and only son to conserve his identity as a Sikh and yearning to become successful in life, and who strives to be an accomplishment in his parents’ eyes. Ever since these experiences, I see every struggle like being thrown off course, each part classified by its own stage. When I pull myself out of it, I am covered with metaphorical bruises and cuts, but in that moment, all of that seems unimportant. An overwhelming sense of pride floods my body, bathing my blood and cells, and the pulse of my blood seem to sing knowing the fact I overcame these obstacles through use of my inner resources. Because when the struggle is harder, the reward is sweeter.