Horrified looks from everyone in the room: My pursuit of writing
Society has introduced STEM as the "superior field"—of course, this is rarely mentioned explicitly.
But parents expect their children to sketch blueprints and construct skylines in the capacity of an engineer, don scrubs to heal and suture in the world of nursing or medicine, preside over courtrooms to plead cases in the practice of law, or climb the corporate ladder through balance sheets in accounting. STEM is seen as the practical track that offers employability and financial promise, qualities that satisfy family expectations.
Then there’s me. "I want to be a writer!" I declare, my slight hesitation quickly drowned out by a surge of inner pride and excitement—and sure enough, horrified looks from everyone in the room meet my gaze. The air's silence surely denotes a mix of shock, perplexity, and disbelief, as if I’ve just announced my intention to count the stars. Who would have expected that from a grade school student who had a keen interest in human anatomy, aspiring once to say "Scalpel..." in an O.R., who eventually strode towards the Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics strand in senior high school, I would be a woman of the humanities?
After the sunrises and sunsets that I witnessed as I searched for my place in the academic track I chose and believed was for me, one thing was all I learned: There wasn't any spot for me in STEM from the beginning, as I belonged somewhere else.
Throughout those years, I only yearned to go back in time and choose another strand instead. Every midterm and final exam I suffered through, I couldn't deny that a pang of jealousy gripped my heart as I heard that the other strand focused more on essays than computations. Of course, I knew that it was also challenging. But perhaps I would have thrived more because, at the end of the day, I would be enjoying it.
When I applied to colleges, I attempted to pursue something I genuinely enjoyed: creative writing. However, waves of doubt continued to surge upon applying due to several factors, the most prominent being the perceived lack of career growth and limited job opportunities for creative writing majors.
In a typical Asian household, you become a doctor, an architect, an engineer, or a disappointment. I chose to be none.
But like airplanes and buildings that seem small from a distance, our dreams can appear insignificant and uncertain when we are far from them. Only when we take a step closer do we begin to see their depth—the intricacies, the details, the possibilities waiting to be discovered. And perhaps, it was only when I dared to move toward creative writing that I realized that it was never small at all.
When I announced that I got into one of the Big 4 schools, everyone was pleased; all eyes were glinting. But just like waves that quickly receded, the moment I said my program, the glint dimmed. I understand the shock and confusion. Compared to the well-known degrees, my program was as rare as a shooting star. And, of course, everyone was just concerned about my future: what job I would have and how it could support my life.
But I know I could excel more in literature because that is where my potential grows. Syringes and medicine are not the only things that can mend. Perhaps pages of words that utter the beauty of life could also relieve suffering. Cement and steel aren't the only ways to build a home, but also feelings of being seen and valued. And growth is not only found in the corporate ladder; sometimes, it is in the words that deepen our understanding and lift us into a life rooted in empathy and connection.
With the rise of technology and media, I have witnessed how opportunities and recognition for literature-related programs have gradually increased. It is to this that I hold on. With the new generation, I look forward to the rise of writing-related fields. A generation where science, math, sociology, literature, and other foundations of life could coexist, with none being undervalued.
In a typical Asian household, you become a doctor, an architect, an engineer, or a disappointment. And I chose to be none. I can only flourish more in the soil made for me. And my destined ground for joy and fulfillment lies only in the field of literature.
