ghetto stiletto
worth the read
Have you ever watched someone transform from one thing to another; for good or for bad? Well, I have; and that person happens to be myself. My name is Chandelle Sorium, and I grew up in East Harlem. When I was a little girl, I loved getting dressed up. Whenever there was a shirt that I no longer liked, I wouldn’t donate it; I wouldn’t throw it away, or give it away… I would make something of it. Just like Paris did for me.
My education in Harlem was very poor. I grew up without a father due to cancer of the liver. He was a heavy drinker, but he never lived long enough for me to see him drink. His short life gave me the inspiration to be more than what was expected of me. That is why I made what I could out of the frugal opportunities that presented themselves. So every year, I was best in my class; in the hope that someday this hard work would pay off… and that’s just what it did.
People who come from places like I did are judged severely. There wasn’t one time where I felt good about the environment surrounding me. Every day I would come to school with the look of a child with an unreachable dream. But my willful attitude was sure to take me places eventually.
By the time I was sixteen, I was already what colleges I wanted to attend. I hadn’t gotten any scholarships, so my future wasn’t looking too good. I dreamt of studying fashion in France where I could be incognito from all of this poverty. I applied to a myriad of different colleges in Paris, but I figured it wasn’t going to happen. So my biggest hope was to make it into Mercy College in New York. I wasn’t sure how I would get the tuition money, but I was willing to do whatever I could. Coming up with a brilliant idea was going to be difficult because my grades were all I could keep my mind on.
Then all of that changed two months before graduation. I can remember it was a bright, sunny afternoon in April. My mother and I were sitting at the kitchen table, checking the mail, when she pulled out a letter and handed it to me. It was addressed to, “Chandelle Francesca Sorium.” This was rare because the only letters that ever entered my mailbox were either bills, or sympathy notes about my father.
The first sentence of the letter read, “Congratulations.” I could barely stand on my two feet. My eyes were drifting off the paper, and I knew I was losing consciousness. All I can remember telling myself was, “Keep reading. Keep reading!” I read on; my mom hovering over my shoulder, reading along. We both burst into tears after a few sentences.
I never thought the day would come where I would finally be rewarded for all of my hard work. My dreams could finally come true. I had been accepted to The Paris American Academy,
and my life was about to change forever… ♥