There’s a centipede on my right arm. To the horror of my classmates from my elementary school in Helsinki, lower school in Hong Kong, upper school in London, and now, high school in Beijing, a scar lies snug and comfortable near my elbow and bears a jarring resemblance to the much-feared arthropod.
The story began two months after I arrived in Finland from Beijing on my sixth birthday. To celebrate my first birthday in a foreign country, I decided to prove that I was a “big girl” and took up the responsibility of folding my own bedsheets. My wish to make my parents proud ended with a trip over the bedpost and a thud on the floor. Tears followed, and a hospital trip ensued. An X-ray indicating a broken arm rounded off my eventful birthday.
Though gruesome as the incident may seem, I remembered it to be particularly interesting: the moment I could get off the restraints of tubes and needles, I took the opportunity to explore the hospital. By the time Mom found me in a neighboring room, I was reenacting my “broken arm saga” in one-armed theatrics to fellow patients. Although I had not become a big girl, the nurses had affectionately ordained me as their “little story ambassador.” To the outsider, my birthday may have seemed disastrous, but to me, it was a flashbulb memory stored in the “cool stuff” part of my brain.
Indeed, I was always able to look on the good side of things, even when a disabled appendage immobilized my daily functioning for months. My ability to adapt to difficult situations probably has to do with my life experiences: growing up in Helsinki, Hong Kong, London, and Beijing, I have learned from an early age that Hernekeitto (pea soup) conjured a wondrous tapestry of Nordic folklore instead of merely a bowl of odd green mush, and doing my best to communicate in my newly acquired Cantonese, I earned both smiles and an extra tomato from vendors every time I went to the market.
Moving from place to place was not pleasant, but after turning every culture shock into an opportunity for connection and growth, I appreciate what I have become and look forward to what I will be. I’ve been met with cold shoulders, but even more warm greetings.
Now, back in Beijing, you’d ask, what new challenges am I going through? Moving from table to table, I call out, “It’s time for chocolate!” Although having won two top debater awards on issues such as the legality of prostitution and law reform on equity bills, it is the third nomination I cherish the most—“Chocolate Ambassador.” After each intense battle of logos, you would find me hauling bags of ready-prepared dark chocolate from one debater to another. My tenet? Simple. Regardless of which side wins or however different an opinion my opponent holds, we can all enjoy something together, such as candy magic.
Dishing out the sweets, I pondered how to reconcile the rising tribalism on the social stage. Considerings opinions from sides I completely disagree with, such as pro-life and anti-BLM movements, I decided to confront the uncomfortable. Weeks spent dissecting conservative speeches and papers helped me understand why people think the way they do and how, through delicate discussions, I could invite people with contrasting views to work for better causes.
Although the task borders on impossible, I, the middle-ground mediator, will take it upon myself to bridge gaps in college. Just as the newly-turned-six me in an arm cast went from ward to ward, telling my story to a greater audience, the newly-turned-seventeen me moves among different groups, closing disparities in my community.
Whilst my invertebrate-shaped scar still occasionally scares my classmates, personally, it’s my badge, commemorating my first step toward a life of flexibility and resilience, one that I had, quite literally and proudly, given my right arm for.