Maria Kirmani, Grade 12
MUWCI
“What can you offer the UWC community and its mission?” This one’s a chichė. It's likely that if you're a student at a UWC or intend to attend one, you've already encountered this question or have at least given it some thought. When I was a nervous 15-year-old waiting for the interviewers—who were also UWC alumni—to join the zoom meeting on my Dad’s old HP, I certainly gave it a lot of thought, in retrospect, perhaps a little too much. However, what I was struggling with wasn’t how to answer that question correctly, but how to introduce myself if my interviewers happened to be Indian.
Now, this is a very specific concern that people who don’t come from occupied places might not be able to understand immediately but for a 15-year-old Kashmiri girl to introduce myself as Kashmiri and not Indian was symbolic of something, and more importantly, it wasn't something I got to do a lot.
Two people logged into the meeting who of course by my stroke of luck, both happened to be Indian. So, the first leap of faith I took was to put my trust in these two interviewers and on a bigger subconscious and maybe even emotional scale, UWC as an institution.
Although my voice was firm and the folks on the zoom call couldn't see my sweaty fingers under the table, as I stated "I'm Maria, from Kashmir," my heart almost skipped a beat. Even though it may seem like a straightforward introduction to you as you read this, when you have lived your entire life under occupation, every time you draw a distinction between you and your colonizers, you are potentially choosing to endanger your life.
Introducing myself as Kashmiri instead of saying “I’m from India” when all the kids from Indian states were introducing themselves with their nationality is a choice that could have easily gotten me in major trouble back home. “Don’t do anything to make yourself stand out”, “Don’t talk back” were frequently heard tactics for survival that all Kashmiri parents taught their kids.
Regardless, there was something thrillingly new and terrifyingly liberating about holding an identity that I actually connected with. I carried this sense of unchanging satisfaction at being able to freely express my individuality throughout my first year at UWC.
Near the end of my first year, I was asked to speak on a panel regarding the occupation of Kashmir and my own experiences. Since it wasn't compulsory and exam season, I didn't expect anyone to attend the meeting other than the panelists and moderator.
But as I entered the zoom meeting, I saw about 110 participants. Who were they? They were my friends, my classmates, my teachers, and even people I’d just spoken to a few times. That is the moment I understood what UWC is. Because it is looking back at these two zoom meetings that I realized, there is in fact no correct answer to the clichė question that every UWC kid gets asked. And perhaps this revelation is clichė in itself, but it is precisely the fact that the answer is different for everyone which makes UWC what it’s meant to be.
Now, this is a very specific concern that people who don’t come from occupied places might not be able to understand immediately but for a 15-year-old Kashmiri girl to introduce myself as Kashmiri and not Indian was symbolic of something, and more importantly, it wasn't something I got to do a lot.
Two people logged into the meeting who of course by my stroke of luck, both happened to be Indian. So, the first leap of faith I took was to put my trust in these two interviewers and on a bigger subconscious and maybe even emotional scale, UWC as an institution.
Although my voice was firm and the folks on the zoom call couldn't see my sweaty fingers under the table, as I stated "I'm Maria, from Kashmir," my heart almost skipped a beat. Even though it may seem like a straightforward introduction to you as you read this, when you have lived your entire life under occupation, every time you draw a distinction between you and your colonizers, you are potentially choosing to endanger your life.
Introducing myself as Kashmiri instead of saying “I’m from India” when all the kids from Indian states were introducing themselves with their nationality is a choice that could have easily gotten me in major trouble back home. “Don’t do anything to make yourself stand out”, “Don’t talk back” were frequently heard tactics for survival that all Kashmiri parents taught their kids.
Regardless, there was something thrillingly new and terrifyingly liberating about holding an identity that I actually connected with. I carried this sense of unchanging satisfaction at being able to freely express my individuality throughout my first year at UWC.
Near the end of my first year, I was asked to speak on a panel regarding the occupation of Kashmir and my own experiences. Since it wasn't compulsory and exam season, I didn't expect anyone to attend the meeting other than the panelists and moderator.
But as I entered the zoom meeting, I saw about 110 participants. Who were they? They were my friends, my classmates, my teachers, and even people I’d just spoken to a few times. That is the moment I understood what UWC is. Because it is looking back at these two zoom meetings that I realized, there is in fact no correct answer to the clichė question that every UWC kid gets asked. And perhaps this revelation is clichė in itself, but it is precisely the fact that the answer is different for everyone which makes UWC what it’s meant to be.
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