Evolutions of Self-Worth
In a society where money makes the world go around, how do you quantify the value of a life? Salary? Job title? Popularity? Everyone wants to feel worthy inside, but society teaches us to value extrinsic rewards while we’re still impressionable as children. Without reflection, we become trapped in the thought that these external labels and quantifiers define our value and self-worth. This idea has imprisoned me for years.
I’ve felt the pressure to prove my worth to this world for my entire life. It manifested in various ways and evolved throughout different phases of my life. Only recently have I started to recognize my toxic coping mechanisms. To feel better about myself, I clung to certain labels and identities. Beauty. Intelligence. Status. But the catch was that these things were conditional and out of my control. Therefore, my self-worth depended on chance and was in the hands of others. However, with time comes wisdom. Sometimes, you just need more perspective to understand what’s truly important in life.
These were my perspectives and how they’ve evolved with time.
The Stereotyped Teen
From the moment I could understand the concept of intelligence, I knew it was something I didn’t have. I grew up in an area with a diverse population - a sprinkle of everything. The Asian kids? Stereotyped as smart and gifted. Me? I was called “the dumb Asian.”
I didn’t make it into the honors science class, so I begged my parents to let me take biology over the summer to “catch up” with my Asian peers. I qualified for honors literature but had to drop out of the class after a month. I made it through honors US history only because the teacher was “easy.” Besides, all the other Asian kids took advanced placement US history, which I couldn’t even consider touching.
I was allowed to socialize with the honors Asians because we were ethnically similar. Still, I was never truly accepted as one of them. I wasn’t smart like them, like I was “supposed” to be as an Asian-American. What could I be worth if I wasn’t smart like I was “supposed” to be?
I took solace in that I was good-looking, moderately athletic, and outgoing, which countered the stereotype of Asians being nerds. If I couldn’t be one of them, I would be better than them at a different game. I was going to be a unicorn.
Once I overcame my awkwardness in middle school, I became quite attractive. My parents wouldn’t allow me to wear makeup, but I still looked good “au naturale.” At some point, this even came to be something that made me feel superior. As if it was a flex that I “didn’t need makeup.” I was relieved to have drawn good genetics.
It used to give me glee when people said, “She’s pretty for an Asian.” In reality, this was a backhanded compliment. But this was my identity.
Redemption
In college, I was suddenly considered “smart.” I’m not entirely clear on how this happened. The label was established by the end of my first year and solidified as I continued through pharmacy school. The reason? Because I got high marks on exams. Other students used to ask me for my answer sheet after our organic chemistry tests to compare it to theirs and gauge how they scored before the professor posted final grades. In essence, I was the answer sheet.
This identity stuck with me beyond my first few years after graduation. However, the difference in effort between being pretty and appearing competent is huge. The truth was, I wasn’t simply smart. I studied and prepared—a lot. There was never a day I wasn’t stressed about school or work. Despite clear indications of unhappiness and a decline in well-being, I clung to this identity and worked even more.
Why?
The reason is multifaceted. Somewhere inside, I felt whole from my childhood anguish. I was finally “smart,” like the other Asian kids in high school. I had a classmate who attended high school and college with me, and I heard him say, “I’m surprised Angela is doing so well [in pharmacy school].” I was never in the same classes as him during high school. He was in honors.
As time passed, I began to feel the need to uphold my reputation. Because I was a high achiever, people expected more from me. I internalized the subliminal messaging and felt intense shame whenever I failed. As a result, I continued to work endlessly behind closed doors because I always needed to know the correct answer. I’d finally obtained the identity I had always yearned for and didn’t want to let it go.
Failure was not an option.
Enough
Needless to say, my pursuit of eternal success was unsuccessful. I’ve experienced failures I never imagined would happen to me. In hindsight, it was mostly because I was barking up the wrong tree, driven by external motivations and status symbols. But now I realize my self-worth should only depend on me.
Through much reflection, I’ve become more enamored with the idea that I can love and value myself for my potential as a human being. I’ve come to realize that the only constant is change. As I age, my beauty will fade. As I progress in my career, my responsibilities will change, and I won’t always have the expertise or answers. This is okay.
The only thing I should concern myself with is reflecting on my actions from the past and present, learning from them, and applying those lessons to the future so I can reach my full potential.
That is enough.
It doesn’t matter if I’m not where I want to be or where society thinks I should be. Those desires and standards don’t change where I am currently. Growth comes with time and effort. So long as I’m not at a complete standstill, that is enough.
Being me is enough.
