
A story from Gloria
The Day I Stopped Being Impressive
It must have been my sophomore year in high school. I was still adjusting to my large public high school after attending a small Catholic school for my entire life up to that point. I was the youngest of 10 impressive children, all or some who were honor students, champion athletes, student government, prom queens, skilled musicians, churchgoers, and community service volunteers. My reputation preceded me, and I, myself, was team captain of both my basketball and cross country teams. Naturally, I was confident, cute, charismatic, and good at most things I tried.
It happened that my basketball team during my 10th grade year was not the most talented. Our coach was a loud, abusive Korean man who terrified all of us young girls. After many years of loving basketball, that year, the sport became lackluster for me. Our JV team lost half of our games, and quite honestly, I had no motivation to play. I wasnʻt bonded to my teammates, and I felt zero respect for my coach.
My parents were always busy with work, and they tried their best to make it to my games, as they did for my champion siblings before me. But after one too many games of losing, my mother became absolutely livid with me. I remember her screaming at me in the van after the game, telling me I was the Captain of Losers and that she would never come to any more of my games.
It must have been that day or shortly thereafter. It hit me that Iʻd been playing basketball, running cross country, learning piano, doing good in school, and going to church only because I was following suit of my 9 elder siblings. Even if I loved basketball, I had no attachment to my JV team. I definitely hated running. If it was up to me, Iʻd be in gymnastics, cheerleading and theatre!
Seeing my mother so angry and irrational that day, I decided to quit both basketball and cross country, which was a rebellious act after 8 years of my family being committed to both sports. At age 16, I made an inner resolve to not do anything for my motherʻs approval anymore, because after watching her behavior with all my other siblings: NOTHING would ever make her satisfied or impressed. The only person I wanted to make happy was me.
I feel lucky that I got that lesson at age 16. So many choices have been made since then, that may have seemed rebellious to others, but simply felt right and true for me.
You may not have been 16 years old when you stopped trying to make your parents proud. You might still be doing it. The elders whose disappointment you have been organizing your life around, are you still letting them run your life?


