Winners of the FYS Writing Competition
21/10/2009
All First Year Seminar students were invited to submit a short piece of writing based on their first week experiences at Richmond, reflecting on the orientation theme of identity and cross-cultural encounters. Below are the pieces and short biographies of the first and second place winners, chosen by the Peer Leaders and FYS faculty.
Brittany Fennewald: WHERE THERE IS SMOKE…
I don't smoke. I've never filled my lungs with anything but the toxins of various cities. The smell of cigarettes, however, inspires nostalgia. It brings me back to my childhood, meeting my dad at a bowling alley and running through a thick cloud of gray to reach him. I'm in a car on hundreds of early mornings with my sister, the smell as she lights up filling my nose as I ever so slowly wake up in the passenger seat. I'm standing with a friend as they satisfy a craving before a performance ignoring the fact that my costume will reek all night. These memories prevent me from being offended by the smell of cigarette smoke. It reminds me of home.
I go out at night and sit under what feels like the most protective tree in the world and bring my knees to my chest as I lean back against the rough wood of the bench. The smell of cigarette smoke surrounds me but that's not all. The sound of a dozen different voices, a half dozen different languages, washes over me. I'm sitting next to a guy from Greece with American music blaring through his headphones and texting someone in Greek. Across from him stands a smoker whose accent places him in London Further down the bench, two French girls delicately hold their cigarettes and chatter away in their delicate language. Near the edges of the tree, a group of students of Middle Eastern descent leisurely kick a football back and forth while letting their cigarettes burn in their hands and teasing each other in a language that hails so far away from my home in Chicago. It's late and the conversation is light and quiet. Groups huddle together in an attempt to ward off the chill of the English night. I'm happy to sit where I am and listen to the varying accents, languages, and topics float through the air as readily as smoke. A boy with a French tinge to his English sits down next to me and smiles as he offers his box of cigarettes to me. I shake my head and reply, “No merci.” He shrugs, plucking a “fag” from the box. I close my eyes as he lights up, feeling at peace with the smell of my past and the quiet sounds of my future.
Brittany is an International Relations major with History and Political Science minors. Her interests include politics, books of any subject matter, theatre, films and photography. She is in FYS103 Changing Stages: Landmarks in Theatre with Dr. Barclay and has already become very active in a number of clubs and societies at Richmond.
Maria Hind Sarkis A REVELATION
I'm not quite sure how I identify myself. I am Lebanese but was raised and lived most of my life in Nigeria, where I went to a British primary school and an American-based high school. Having never been fully integrated into any of the aforementioned cultures, my image of myself seems to be liquid - yet I can never fit comfortably into what seem to me irregular shaped cups.
Yet being here in London, and in RAIUL to be precise, has thrown a new light on things in a different way I would have expected. The pleasure of meeting a few other Lebanese inspired a patriotic side I didn't think was substantial, yet this dissipated quickly upon noticing the differences in degrees to our attachment to the country.
The fact that I came into contact with West Africans probably added to this dissipation. We shared our knowledge of West African music and stories of life there, and bonded partly as a result of this. Then, just as the West African in me grew a little, I came into contact with Americans, Bulgarians, French, and countless others. All their cultures fascinated me and sent what I thought I knew to the back of my mind's queue. Then a few confusing thoughts occurred to me.
“Is my search for security in identity not really about identity at all?” “Am I subconsciously reverting to whatever I find most interesting, and trying to make it a part of myself?” The answer "yes" seems to make enough sense, as it fits in with what I already know about myself.
And what I definitely know about myself is this: I am a nineteen year old female. Some may already have gone through the process of identification and successfully completed it. But this is not so in my case…
However, a realization happened by the end of my first week here. I met her at the vending machine in the common room, as I was putting coins in for a drink. To my chagrin, it got stuck and wouldn’t come down. Thinking force was the answer, I began kicking it, but it seemed to be of no avail. She noticed my struggle from the other end of the room, and walked over to my aid. “It’s no use,” I said, frustrated, “the darned thing is broken!” “Wait, hold on just a minute,” she replied. She took out a coin from her pocket and chose the drink above the one I ordered; as it fell, it nudged mine and brought it down with it.
We became quite good friends after that. And eventually this is what dawned upon me: it’s alright if I don’t know myself thoroughly yet – it’s something that takes time. Moreover, in the process of grasping my identity, it’s also fine if I need a little help from others.
Maria is an Art, Design and Media (ADAM) major. Her interests include modern visual art, writing, music, philosophy. She is in FYS 102 Utopia and Dystopia with Dr. Keating.
