Kindergarten Play

Aloha APC! My name is LeNora Suguturaga, I am 18-years-old, and I am currently taking a gap year in Hawai’i before I head to Brown University next fall.

Some quick facts about me:

– I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day-Saints.

– I am Tongan, Fijian, and a little bit of Samoan, Jewish, and Swiss-German.

– I have 8 siblings and 4 dogs.

– And I have a YouTube channel that I just started! Subscribe to me @norasugu 🙂

The piece I am submitting is actually my Common App essay that got me into 12/13 schools I applied to. The common app essay is one of the trickiest things to get “right” on one’s college application, and it was something I struggled writing during my first semester of senior year. How was I supposed to culminate my 17 years of experience into one 650 word paper? It took a lot of brainstorming, writing, rewriting, trashing, revising, etc. until I finally found the story and words that I felt really represented me. This essay is about my journey in trying to defy Polynesian stereotypes and therefore change the definition of being “a brown kid.” I am still working to redefine how others view my culture everyday through my existence, and I hope this essay inspires the reader to examine the negative stereotypes set against them and fight back.

Also, if anyone would like revisions on their college essays, I offer services for a small fee. Just DM me 🙂

IG: @nora.sugu

I had no idea I would be breaking social barriers in my kindergarten play. Silver shoes and a blue flowy dress constituted my costume for the night. With a microphone in hand and the overconfidence of a toddler, I stepped onto the stage. Long black ringlets bounced with my stride. It absorbed the bright stage lights and stares from the crowd of parents. I was not the typical Goldilocks one would expect.

      In sixth grade, I was accepted to one of the top private schools in Hawai’i. Throughout middle school, I participated in many activities such as an international exchange program, theatre, and sports. I excelled in all of these activities, as well as my classes, but one recurring statement I received in response to my success was:

       “Since you’ve enrolled at {said school}, you’ve become whitewashed.”

       “Whitewashed,” in this case, describes minorities who act Caucasian and assimilate to western culture. This remark insulted me because why were my successes being chalked up to acting white? Or was it because I wasn’t following the negative stereotypes of being Polynesian?

       Hawai’i is known for the multitude of cultures that coexist here, but even the “melting pot of ethnicities” is susceptible to racial profiling. I am Tongan and Fijian, and I have been expected to fall into the category of a typical “brown kid.” Brown kids aren’t smart. Brown kids only attend a private school because of athletic ability. Brown kids are rude. I was cornered by these assertions because people had this idea of me before they even met me. I once faced a microaggression because of these harmful stereotypes when making up a test. The proctor asked what subject I would be taking, and when I replied “math,” his next words surprised me: “BCP, right?” I hesitated. BCP, or basic college prep, is the lowest level of math offered at my school. The class is great, but I wondered if he assumed I was in BCP because of my race, as Polynesians made up the majority of that class. At the time, I was in Advanced Pre-Calculus, which is two levels higher than BCP. I corrected him and felt dignified knowing I wasn’t confirming a stereotype.

      Just because I don’t fit the “brown kid” definition, though, doesn’t mean I am trying to fit into a whitewashed mold. When my mom immigrated to Hawai’i, she brought Tongan values that she would later instill in me. She taught me social responsibility, respect, and the importance of education. When Tonga had a hurricane, my family and I hosted meetings to discuss how we can help our homeland from Hawai’i.  At social events, we always serve food to the elderly first as a sign of respect. But most importantly, my mom and her family came to America to seize educational opportunities. There is a saying in Tonga: Kamata’anga e poto, which means “be learned.” Education improves life, which is why my mom chose to send me to an elite school. These are the truths of my culture that I choose to exemplify rather than conform to the path expected of me due to my race.

I am not against being called a “brown kid,” because I am brown, and being Polynesian is a huge part of my identity. Instead, I am trying to challenge the definition of what a “brown kid” is. 

      Looking back at my kindergarten play, I wonder why my teacher chose me, a dark girl with poofy hair, to play a typically white Goldilocks. I now understand that she didn’t see the role as white and simply chose the best contender. This is the worldview I have assumed, in which I am not fulfilling white characteristics nor brown stereotypes. Being Tongan and being successful are not mutually exclusive, and with each step I take to defy a stereotype, I can change the meaning of being a “brown kid.”