In most TV shows, there’s always a character that’s represented as “the rebel.” Rachel in Friends was “the rebel” when she chose to get cut off instead of marrying a man she didn’t love. Will in Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was “the rebel” because he had a goofy personality and didn’t meet the high expectations that were placed up by his cousin. Growing up, these shows gave me something to relate to. I was stuck making difficult decisions and had high expectations placed on me. In my family, I am “the rebel.”
Although my family would consider the means it took to get where I am now and where I intend to be in life as rebellious, I’ve realized that the life they want for me isn’t the life I want for myself. I grew up in an Egyptian Muslim household that caused my family to feel obligated to make every possible decision for me. If it were up to them, right now, I would have been at the College of Staten Island, considering it is closest to home, with the goal of becoming a teacher in Egypt, where I would live and marry someone of their choosing. My first way of rebelling was choosing to go to Baruch and majoring in computer information systems. Going to Baruch caused so many arguments with my family, especially with my dad, because they wanted me to be as close to home as possible. As for my career, they don’t believe I would ever be successful in computer information systems, considering how it is a male-dominated field. They expect me to become a caretaker to my husband and children, which doesn’t allow for my career to ever be a priority. The life I want for myself is to be a respectable and independent computer engineer, and when the time is right, to make the choice of marriage.
Despite these religious and cultural values my parents have, there was also the example set by my sister, Miral, that made it harder for me to “rebel.” Miral is six years older than me and was born with cerebral palsy. My parents had a hard time learning how to raise a child with a disability. To keep her safe and comfortable they made every decision for her. It slowly progressed from how to dress, to what schools to go to, to what major to go into, and finally to who she married. She went to the College of Staten Island and majored in graphic design, assuming it would be the easiest for her and her condition. She married my first cousin, someone who she doesn’t love. As my sister trusted that they knew and made the right decisions, they expected me to have the same trust. Everyday I see her suffering because of the decisions that were made for her. It’s not that I don’t trust that they wanted the best for me but obeying their every wish would’ve only made me dependent and unhappy my entire life. This is me being rebellious and applying to Hofstra, a college that is over an hour away from home, where I would create a new life for myself and accepting the number of challenges it would cause my family.