Hello steemians, steemites, steemsters, and anyone else 😁.
I thought it was about time I introduce myself: I am an undergraduate student at the University of Maryland majoring in public health science, minoring in public leadership on the premed track (Go women in stem and steem!).
As interesting as my major probably is, I would like to think that it is not the most important or interesting thing about me. My whole family is from Nepal. Nepal is a little country with huge mountains (the tallest mountain in the world; upvotes if you can name it). Honestly, that's how I would describe myself too: a little girl with huge dreams. A fun fact is that I am only 4' 11.5"
If you have the time here's a piece I wrote if for some crazy reason you want to get to know me better.
I, as a four year old Nepali-American girl, waddled onto stage with a daal stain still dripping down the front of my favorite giraffe printed dress. I was nowhere near tall enough to reach the mic on the podium. A big banner that read International Nepali Literary Society (INLS) shadowed the space behind me. The mission of this non-profit organization was to support writers and literature of all kinds and of all ages within the Nepali community. Thus to promote its mission, the organization constantly held youth poetry competitions and this was the first of many INLS meetings during which I would recite my poetry. My hands became slippery, but from dirt, not sweat, because this isn’t a story about a girls stage fright or overcoming a fear. This is about my willingness to get my hands dirty and break patterns.
The moment I was born, I started breaking patterns, beginning with my name. My name is Preeya, spelled with two e's and not an i. Priya is a common name in Nepal, but I would bet the amount of chai tea I consume every year in money, that you won’t find another Preeya anywhere but here. Preeya is actually supposed to be spelled Priya, but due to some “heavy” research by my very pregnant mother, I am a Preeya. She asked all the students in one of her graduate classes to read my name aloud off a scrap of paper. Her conclusion: Priya spelled Preeya was most likely to be pronounced correctly and my dad enjoyed the double "e". The result: double the choices like empowered, energetic, and extroverted to fit the many future acrostic poems I was destined to write.
Beyond my naming, I am one of the nine grandchildren of an outspoken Nepali poet, Hom Nath Subedi, who had works studied by school children in his home village. While these schoolchildren analyzed his texts with glee, my grandfather couldn’t get his own blood to acquire his passion in writing. That was until I came along and ruined the pattern my cousins had so graciously set for me. As a four year old, my five line poem did not qualify me for any medals, but it opened up a door to the world of word. Twelve years later, I have competed every year at the Annual Youth Competition for Bhanubhakta.
Also, twelve years later, I no longer waddle, but I strut onto stage in a crisp dress, and stand at 4 feet and 11.5 inches, just barely visible when behind the podium. Despite this confidence and passion for words, my poetry is limited to the ears of Nepali men with drowsy eyes behind large spectacles and chins comforted by greying beards. I am to this day pretty sure that these men attend these meetings simply to hear their own thundering voices. After their initial excitement as I approach the stage, they always begin to drift as they hear the English words of my poetry that follow my humble “Namaste” to the crowd. As a result, I always find myself walking back on stage for the sole purpose of making these ears listen to what I have to say. If I need to stand on my tippy toes to reach for the podiums mic with my messy hands, I will. Letters and words have carved my identity and poetry molds me into a shape that breaks patterns and will hopefully demand their attention.
