, Research Paper

I am violently warring for peace. I know this is a paradox, and I & # 8217 ; m instead proud because it is true. Passivity has been a womb-to-tomb menace, laziness a changeless enticement in my hunt for individuality. This universe begs me to yield to bing in the image of person else, it asks merely that I slip mutely and blindly into the niche it provides alternatively of carving my ain. I required a long clip to work up bravery to contend for the repose I had glimpsed in hot summer forests and in fondly handled books read tardily until the early forenoon. Doubt had established itself in my head at some early age, when or why I do non cognize, and I could swear any individual or group more than myself. Doubt begat fright, and fright gave birth to befoging myself from the eyes of the universe while I was a child.Now, I am dedicated to the battle, after over five old ages of fright and stationariness. I rejected the easiest manner out of life, and demanded truth. I strengthened my organic structure as I strengthened my head against the onslaughts I faced. When I was 15 I started Tae Kwon Do, the soldierly humanistic disciplines category that was offered through my school. I learned more about barricading, kicking, and pluging in the first two hebdomads of that category than I had known my full life. My one time powerless organic structure, bantam and thin, could strike hard the air current out of person with a well placed clout, and I could kick people taller than me in the caput. So what I could make, I did, and now my friends instinctively block when they see me grin badly in their way. I am content to cognize I have taught them something useful.Last spring for the 3rd clip in a row, I shakily accepted my instructor & # 8217 ; s manus as he congratulated me on 2nd topographic point in adult females & # 8217 ; s division sparring. It was a climbing nightshade victory, three times now I have l

ost to the same girl. She has become an icon for everything I wish to triumph over in this world. She is beautiful, hair like black silk, impeccable taste in clothing,makeup like a Renaissance painting, and average when it comes to everything else. I watch her silently stride into art class on three inch heels, skirt above her knee, no runs in her stockings, and manicured nails smoothing invisible wrinkles from he shirt. I look down at myself, one of my shirt buttons missing, securely replaced with a safety pin, my comfortable green pants provide freedom of movement if little style, and my sturdy black shoes have been with me for three years. I hear my voice laughing almost too loudly, physics notes are sticking out of my sketchbook, and I am well aware of that I am not average.I fight this opponent I have created and what she represents not because she chooses to live her life by the beauty standard, and not because I feel inferior. We are at war because no one outside of Tae Kwon Do class ever sees what she is capable of. They don?t know that those perfectly moisturized hands can break through boards or leave your head spinning. No one knows that those feet captured in three inch heeled prisons can leave you hurting for days, bruised where you blocked, bruised and bleeding where you failed to. I fight her because she is a symbol of how I tried to hide myself and my potential. I?m tired of being afraid of how the world will respond to me, and I war against the part of myself that would rather just please fashion magazines and popular concepts. Peace comes from accepting my identity, not from hiding it. I will laugh loudly at outside ideas of who I am supposed to be, kick down the opposition to my goals, and I will continue to fight until I have my peace.