Like many other individuals, my journey toward committing to the study of literature was contested by most of my family. My father and his family have always held the belief that unless you’re majoring in STEM during undergraduate studies, you’re wasting your time. This is not uncommon among South Asian households, and while I was never very close to my father or that side of my family, this belief was heavily ingrained in me during childhood.

My mother and her family were mostly indifferent. However, many of them, including my mother, dedicated their lives to the medical field. I subsequently believed that a nursing career would best suit me both financially and emotionally, but after briefly treading down this path I realized I was putting forth the effort solely seeking validation and support from my family. When I graduated high school I was unsure of what I wanted to study in college, so instead I decided to join the United States Air Force, during which I was a C-130J Loadmaster. This aircrew job provided me an environment rich with freedom as a young adult to explore what was most important to me.

an early USAF photo of myself, 2017

During childhood, I grew up in a chaotic household where having the quiet and comfortability to read literature was generally impossible. But in my down time while I was serving, I began to collect novels and immerse myself in them. It became clear that literature had a special place in my heart, and that I just didn’t quite have the necessary conditions in childhood to explore this passion fully. After honorably separating, I had many conversations with my partner about what discipline I would pursue in college. I once again grappled with the notion that nursing would be best, but after trial and error I finally settled on taking classes focused on literature, creative writing, history, and cultural and film studies.

During my first academic year of taking these classes, I experienced an identity crisis. I knew these disciplines made me feel alive and excited me in ways I hadn’t been before, but I couldn’t help feeling that perhaps my father was right: I’m wasting my time. A quote from Jasmine Guillory’s article titled ‘Reading Anti-Racist Nonfiction Is a Start. But Don’t Underestimate the Power of Black Fiction’ really resonates with me when I think back on this period in my life, which was only a year ago: 

“I’ve read so many books about people who are nothing like me—often by necessity, since I can think of only one book I was assigned to read in my entire K-12 education that was about a Black girl or woman—and I’ve learned something from many of them. As characters confront events and situations we’ve never experienced, fiction helps us imagine how we would deal with them.”

Aside from being half South Asian, and knowing all too well how it feels for individuals like me to be underrepresented in literature studies in the classroom, this quote makes me think about why literature is a passion of mine and why my pursuit of it as a discipline is integral to my emotional and mental well-being.

Part of my experience in childhood of growing up in a mostly chaotic household was being stripped of social development with my peers. My mother, a single parent, uprooted our lives by moving nearly every single year. I eventually, at some point, grew exhausted at making friends in a new city because I knew our stay there would be short lived. I became distant from my peers, keeping to myself as a coping mechanism, and this largely impacted my ability to relate to those around me and form close connections.

Literature, however, has helped me glean information that I largely missed out on in childhood. Reading about The Great Perhaps in John Green’s ‘Looking for Alaska,’ for example, gave me insight on the nuances of being a teenager and interacting with one’s peers. Literature gives me a chance to put myself into experiences I missed out on, or like in Gabrielle Zevin’s ‘Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow,’ ones I will not experience at any point in my life.

My study of literature has drastically developed my ability to feel empathy for others and has shaped how I approach many relationships as a young adult, especially with those journeying through life at differing ages and in differing paths than myself. Guillory’s words remind me of why I chose to study literature when coming to college, and how with each class I take, the breadth of my knowledge in people and experiences expands, further cementing my choice. 

photo of Jennette McCurdy’s ‘I’m Glad My Mom Died,’ featuring my cat Zora

But that doubt I’ve had within myself throughout my young adult years has not solely been because of my family’s influences. I’ve also found literature to be quite intimidating at times. While my childhood largely impacted my ability to immerse myself in literature, it was not as if I could never attempt enjoying a novel or a poem.

I can recall many times throughout grade school when I was assigned a certain text in one of my language arts classes and became overwhelmingly discouraged by the complex diction used or ideas being expressed. Or perhaps it was a piece I picked up in a thrift store which I had convinced my mother to buy for me. Many times, I felt discouraged away from literature because I could not fully understand it. This was not a lack of intelligence on my part, but more so a lack of patience.

As a young adult, I’ve slowly yet surely been cultivating this sense of patience that’s integral to studying literature. Which is why Traci Smith’s article titled ‘Wipe that Smirk Off Your Poem’ resonates with me. When I first read, “Poems infatuated with their own smarts and detached from any emotional grounding can leave the reader feeling lonely, empty and ashamed for having expected more,” I felt a brief sense of relief like finally someone recognizes my own frustration. Poetry, for me, was mostly off putting during my childhood because of its, what I thought at the time, mostly flowery and overcomplicated diction and syntax. Even as a young adult, I still do feel this way at times. It’s not beside me to admit that the novel is much more alluring to me than the poem.

However, with the study of literature comes that necessary discomfort at times to venture into the unknown and peculiar, to further my understanding of the world as I do and do not know it. The benefits continually prove to be immense and my love for the discipline steadily increases with time.