After slicing open the top of the pomegranate, I press my thumbs into the sides and apply pressure to pull it apart. The rough exterior opens and reveals a cove of bright red seeds embedded into a web of white skin, like rubies in stone. Its beauty, however, is lost to me the second a seed bursts and the red juice stains my clothing.

Growing up as the eldest daughter and granddaughter in an Afghan family, navigating through the intersection of my Afghan culture and American identity often felt like walking on a tightrope. Each side held conflicting expectations, norms, and traditions that I felt bound to honor. There was an unspoken pressure that weighed on me. I felt it from every angle, whether it was the expectations of my elders or the anticipating eyes of my younger siblings and cousins. I internalized this tension as a need to embody my family’s ideal of a respectable Afghan woman while balancing my desire to retain my American individuality.

It is tradition to peel pomegranates for important events, and as I grew older, and perhaps a little less messy, the task of peeling pomegranates fell on me. However, the desire for perfection became my new tether, making this task more daunting than enjoyable. I aspired to mirror the grace of my grandmother, who seemed to have struck the perfect balance between our Afghan roots and our American reality, exuding elegance while paying homage to our heritage.

One day, my grandmother decided to join me as I sat peeling pomegranates. My sole focus was on maintaining the pristine condition of my clothes, and I could feel my anxiety rising as I focused on executing this task to perfection. Each splatter that hit me felt like a mark against my identity as the perfect Afghan-American woman. Tears blurred my vision, and in that vulnerable moment, my grandmother gestured for me to observe her attire.

Splashes of pomegranate speckled her clothes; she smiled and embraced them proudly as an emblem of her imperfections. Her silent motion spoke volumes. There, I realized that perfection was an illusion, and these expectations were impossible to meet. Her beauty didn’t come from her flawlessness, but rather her boldness and strength. Sitting there, both of us freckled with juice stains, I finally understood that it’s impossible to peel pomegranates without making a mess; it’s just part of the process.

She taught me that my journey, with its flaws and blemishes, is what truly defines me. There is a beauty to the stains that I never saw before; they serve as a testament to my commitment and love for my complicated, yet beautiful culture. Through that prism, those once-dreaded splatters became symbolic of my journey—one of overcoming anxieties and emerging stronger and more authentic. This realization was liberating as I no longer viewed myself through a lens of dual expectations, but began to celebrate the unique blend of my heritage. I learned that my multicultural upbringing would present challenges for me to learn to navigate through, but it also strengthened me and made me all the more resilient.

My appreciation of my multicultural identity manifested itself in every aspect of my life. I became involved with a local refugee initiative after the Taliban takeover of Afghanistan because I wanted to support this community that I could culturally connect with. As I encountered young refugees from all over the world, I watched as they struggled to navigate through living in America and following American customs while still holding true to their native identity. They came to me asking for help, questioning how they could possibly reconcile these two cultures. I began by telling them a story about peeling pomegranates.

Major:
Canfield Business Honors Program & Plan II Honors

Honors Program:
Canfield Business Honors Program & Plan II Honors

Other Academic Interests:
Finance and International Relations

What drew you to the Forty Acres Scholars Program?
Truthfully speaking, I didn’t know much about the Forty Acres Scholars Program when I was invited to apply aside from the fact that it would pay for my education. It wasn’t until I attended Finalist Weekend—where I had the chance to meet the program coordinators, current scholars, and fellow finalists—that I truly recognized the immense value of being part of this program. The profound sense of community was the first thing that stood out to me. Despite meeting everyone for the first time, I immediately felt welcomed and embraced as part of the FASP family. I was in awe at the diversity of interests, accomplishments, and backgrounds represented within the group, but what I was the most impressed at was the genuineness and humility of each individual I encountered. I left the finalist weekend with the realization that it isn’t the money that makes this program incredible; it’s the extraordinary people, unparalleled network, and the wealth of opportunities and resources that distinguish FASP from any other scholarship program. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to grow, learn, and thrive alongside some of the most inspiring individuals I’ve ever met.

Favorite FASP Memory
So far, my favorite FASP memory has to be our freshman retreat at the Hyatt Regency Lost Pines Resort. My entire cohort went right before school began, and it gave us the perfect opportunity to really get to know each other and build what I know will be lifelong friendships. So many inside jokes stemmed from this experience, and I cherish the memories of us clinging to one another in the lazy river and playing games by the campfire. While this is my current favorite FASP memory, I am beyond excited to create many more meaningful and unforgettable memories with the rest of my cohort over the next four years.