EDITED NARRATIVE ESSAY
Kayla Peña
Tyson Ward
English Honors
September 27, 2018
Narrative Essay
Stepping out of the Biology lab at Rockefeller University, my senses were overcome by the sweet smell of roses and the sleek modern buildings around me. The glass panels of the buildings were reflecting the golden rays of the sun, making everything feel warmer. I felt like I was walking on clouds while my group followed our Urban Barcode Research Program instructor as she led us around the campus. My inner nerd started to take over as I explored this professional research institution. As we toured the campus, I dreamt of one day wearing a pristine white lab coat with my name embroidered on the pocket as I cultured cells in a lab.
During my senior year of high school, I joined the robotics team at my school. I had no ulterior motive of using the robotics team as some type of resume builder. Everyone had their unique and quirky personalities. Even the socially awkward boys came alive on the team, their full personalities flourishing as they got more comfortable with each other. The team did have one flaw that I slowly began to realize as the season proceeded. I subconsciously ignored this problem until enough happened for me to finally accept that my perfect team wasn’t so perfect.
I was tinkering with a few pieces trying to prototype a retractable claw that I spent the previous week designing. Due to my stubborn nature, I refused to ask anyone for help. I was determined to create this claw on my own, which led to the process taking longer than it should have. I was huddled on the bench corner typing away trying to Google how to create lateral motion from a rotational motor. I was engrossed in my Google search when I felt my prototype being snatched out of my hands. I gasped and wondered if this was a result of me not hearing someone call my attention, but immediately realized that was not the case. “You’re wasting time and parts that we need, just go write some public relation proposal letter to get us sponsorship money. I can take over from here” snapped one of the guys as he towered over me. My voice got caught in the base of my throat so I opted for a submissive nod. I proceeded to write a sponsorship proposal with shaky hands and a clouded mind, my thoughts often drifting to the event that happened just moments ago.
After that meeting, I walked towards the subway with the only other female on our team. We walked in a comfortable silence. The events of the meeting and my acceptance of my team’s flaw was the only thing running through my brain. I subconsciously wondered if she picked up on this flaw also. I couldn’t allow myself to internalize my feelings so finally decided to break the silence, “Hey, what do you think of the team’s social progress?” Her head shot up as my voice broke the silence. “Um, socially I think the guys have really come out of their shell, but I think they don’t know how to work that well with everyone.” I pondered for a few seconds on what she meant by that. “I think they just struggle with accepting my ideas and accepting my help in the building circle,” she added politely, clearing my obvious confusion. I didn’t respond, but we both mutually understood what we weren’t willing to directly admit out loud. We finished our journey to the subway in a comfortable silence until we bid our goodbyes and got on different trains.
One Tuesday afternoon, while with the robotics team I was typing away on my laptop, I was withdrawn from the clanging and clashing of metal parts around me. The bustling was music to my hectic mind as I typed up drafts of proposal letters. I slightly flinched when I saw two feet in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see my teammate’s soft features scrunched up as she gathered her long silky hair into a bun. She stealthily snatched a shiny silver robotics piece in her right hand. Her chest rose and fell as she let out a harsh breath. My fingers sped across my keyboard as I started to direct my glance back down to my work. The feet came closer in my peripheral vision catching my attention yet again. The rushed words drew my eyes away from my laptop. “Ugh, I’m being pushed out of the building circle again and it’s so irritating,” she said. My blood boiled and I felt it rise to the tips of my ears. I felt like a bulldozer ready to destroy anything in my way. I swiftly jumped up on a nearby stool and yelled at the nine boys in the building circle, “This team is sexist and discriminatory. You close out the girls and it’s not fair.” It was as if a bright spotlight was shining on me illuminating me in the darkness when I felt all eyes stare back at me in shock. The boys who were previously engrossed in numbers, angles, and metal pieces froze like a deer in headlights. My booming voice hit them like a dip in an ice-cold pool. All nine pairs of eyes put me on trial as they singled me out with their glares.
The blood remained at the tips of my ears, but this time not out of fury but out of embarrassment as the realization of what I just did hit me like a truck. I shakily jumped off the stool and avoided eye contact as I crossed my arms over my chest. I just wanted a hole to form underneath me and swallow me away from this moment. The clash of a screwdriver being tossed down by a boy drew my eyes up as I caught him motioning for us to join them. The other boys resumed their work as the initial shock of my words quickly wore off. My glare darted to the girl who scurried over and picked up the screwdriver as if the offer would be retracted at any moment. I rolled my shoulders back and continued typing on my laptop as my blood returned to a normal temperature and my muscles relaxed slowly.
At the end of our long meeting, I dragged my feet to shove my laptop into my backpack. The pulsing beats flooding from my headphones consumed my brain while I mechanically hurried towards the exit. My automatic exit was abruptly stopped when my path became blocked. I saw the same familiar shoes, which was then followed by the soft subdued demeanor of the girl’s face. She tucked a piece of her jet-black hair behind her ear and her eyes fluttered up to make eye contact with me.
“Hey, thank you so much for reacting like that. It was really unexpected, but you don’t understand how much I appreciated it.” I chuckled an airy laugh and responded,
“Girls gotta stand up for each other.” In this moment, I contemplated if my outburst even accomplished anything at all. They let us help this one time, but I doubted that this would be the new standard. I would probably need to have a dramatic, attention-grabbing show just to feel included in a team that I already earned my place on.
Looking back, I try to rationalize my actions– was I being over dramatic and quick to jump to conclusions? What if they weren’t shutting us out because we were girls? The possibility that they were just so enthralled by the task at hand is very probable. It is easy to not think of others when you have a looming time restricted task over your head. When a person entered the lab, they would be hit by the stagnant metallic air that smelled of teenage boys and a bustling mess of robotics parts, but when you were a part of that bustling mess it didn’t quite feel like a mess. You would feel a hum of anxious excitement and there was this energetic buzz that everyone on the team drew from. Our other teammates could have just been so caught up that they didn’t realize we were trying to help. I don’t like to think of the possibility that we weren’t asserting ourselves enough. That Tuesday afternoon at robotics was plaguing my thoughts and I knew I had to do something to fix the uneasy feeling inside of me. I was angry that the guys didn’t know how to respond to me, but then I felt guilty. Not everyone knows how to respond back to an intense accusation such as the one I presented them with that day. Even though the guys didn’t realize something that day, I did realize things about myself. Reflecting back on that day at Rockefeller University I remembered a distinct moment.
Entering Caspary Auditorium, our group stopped at some glass panels. Engraved on the glass were the faces of the alumnus of Rockefeller University who were Nobel Peace Prize and Pulitzer Prize recipients. My heart dropped. As my eyes scanned the faces, the optimism that once filled my heart began to dissipate. My eyes helplessly searched through the faces yet again trying to find what they were looking for but fell short yet again. My arms dropped to my sides and my rigid spine slumped at my realization. There was not a single female from this prestigious institution engraved in the glass panels. After gathering my composure, I lifted my chin and rolled my shoulders back as I leaned over to a friend and said, “I’m going to be the first woman to have my picture up there.”
My team might not want to change themselves to fix their flaw, but I knew I wanted to change myself to fix my flaw. That Tuesday at my robotics meeting was just the first step toward changing my perspective on the situation. Instead of looking at its effect on my team, I began to look at its effect on myself and I was finally able to move past it.
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