Strength in My Roots by Rebecca

Strength in My Roots by Rebecca - January 2026 Scholarship Essay

Middle school is tough for everyone. It’s that awkward phase where your body changes, your voice cracks, and you're just trying to fit in. For me, that desire to fit in was complicated by where I was born: Kenya. My last name, my grammar, and my hair made me an easy target for bullying. My journey from feeling shame about my background to discovering a deep strength in my heritage is a memory that shaped who I am today.

It was my first year in middle school. The teasing started small. Kids would ask if my family used to live in a mud hut or ride a safari animal to school. I tried to laugh it off, but the comments cut deep. They mimicked the way I said certain words and made fun of the traditional foods my mom packed for lunch. I remember hiding in a small corner in the cafeteria, eating my chapati and beans in shame instead of eating with my classmates.

The bullying developed from words to actions. One day, during gym, a group of boys surrounded me and chanted a demeaning song about Africa. They sang about stereotypes of poverty and disease. I stood there frozen, tears in my eyes. The gym teacher saw, but didn't intervene much, only shouting to "knock it off." That night, I cried to my parents and begged them to let me be homeschooled. I didn't want my peers to see me. I wanted to disappear.

My mom sat me down and looked me in the eyes. "Your heritage is a crown, not a burden." She reminded me of the rich history of our people, the resilience, the beauty of the Swahili warriors, and the Kenyan spirit. She talked about the strength it took for them to move across the world and build a new life while holding onto their identity. She gave me books and stories about Kenyan history and culture. For weeks, I learned everything I could. I started to see my background as something special and unique, and not a flaw. This was the moment I started to discover a new kind of strength: pride.

The next time a kid made a comment, I didn’t shrink away. When a girl in my social studies class whispered about my hair texture, I looked her straight in the eye and explained that my hair was strong and beautiful just the way it was. The most defining moment came a few weeks later. The main bully who led the gym class incident made another demeaning joke about my lunch at the cafeteria table. Instead of freezing, I stood tall and, in a clear voice, explained that his ignorance was his problem, not mine.

The cafeteria went quiet. His face turned red, and he didn't say another word that day. From then on, the bullying didn’t stop completely, but it lessened significantly. I found my voice. I started wearing small cultural accessories like a beaded bracelet my mom gave me. I shared Kenyan dishes with friends who wanted to try them. I became known as "the Kenyan girl," but it wasn't a mean label anymore. It was just who I was.

This experience significantly changed my growth. It taught me that true strength isn't about being physically tough, but about being secure in who you are and embracing your authentic self, even when others try to tear you down. I learned that my identity is a powerful asset, not a liability. That moment in middle school, when I chose to stand up for my heritage, taught me resilience and self-love. I discovered a strength within me that I didn’t know I had, a strength rooted in being African, proud, and unapologetically myself. It has influenced my growth by making me a more confident, empathetic, and proud individual. My origins are now my greatest pride.