When I was ten, I remember standing in our living room on Christmas Eve, watching my dad light a candle while my mom played a recording of her favorite hymn. They weren't fighting — not exactly — but the air was thick with quiet tension. My dad's family came from Europe, and he followed his childhood faith. My mom practiced a different one, and both were sure they were right. I stood there between them, holding a match that had burned out, feeling like I didn't really belong to either side.
That feeling has followed me most of my life. My father came to this country thirty years ago with practically no money. He built a life for us, but the price was that we grew up far away from our extended family. No grandparents at the dinner table, no aunts or uncles telling stories about who we were. For me, identity was something I had to figure out on my own.
My parents' beliefs clashed often, and I learned early how to navigate two faiths without setting either one off. Sundays meant choosing my words carefully, dressing differently depending on whose relatives were visiting, and pretending the contradictions didn't confuse me. I wanted to make both of them proud, but it felt like living two separate lives.
Then there was another secret — one that didn't fit into either world. I realized I was gay. Both of my parents come from cultures where being gay isn't really talked about, and when it is, it's not kind. I spent years hiding who I was, even from my closest friends. Every time someone asked if I was dating anyone, I'd smile and change the subject. It was exhausting, always editing myself.
For a while, that fear made me shrink. I avoided social events and focused on school because it was the one area I could control. But that's also where I started finding strengths I didn't know I had. I learned how to use writing and coding as quiet forms of expression. When I couldn't talk about what I was feeling, I built things — stories, projects, little worlds of my own design.
Eventually, I started confiding in a few trusted friends who reminded me that I didn't have to be afraid all the time. I joined an online LGBTQ+ youth group where I could speak freely. Those conversations helped me see that being different didn't make me broken — it just meant I had a messier story to tell.
Growing up without clear roots taught me to build identity from within. Navigating two religions taught me how to see value in multiple perspectives without needing to pick just one. And hiding who I was taught me empathy — for anyone who's ever had to live a double life or stay quiet to stay safe.
As a student, that mindset pushes me to explore deeply and create spaces where people can feel seen. As someone interested in technology and cybersecurity, it drives my belief that systems should protect people, not just data. Behind every screen or algorithm, there's a human being who deserves safety and respect. I know what it feels like to hide, and I want to build a world where fewer people have to.
When I think back to that moment years ago — standing between my parents and their two candles — I realize that "between" isn't such a bad place to be. It's where I learned how to listen, adapt, and bridge differences. It's where I became me.