Hometown: Hopkinton, Massachusetts, USA

High School: Public school, 295 students in graduating class

Ethnicity: White

Gender: Male

GPA: 4.0 out of 4.0

SAT: Reading 800, Math 750, Writing 760

ACT: n/a

SAT Subject Tests Taken: U.S. History, Mathematics Level 2, and Biology M

Extracurriculars: Drama Club member, National Honor Society president, Students Taking on Poverty president, Men’s Chorus member, UNITE Mentoring mentor

Awards: Princeton Book Award, National Merit finalist, Daughters of the American Revolution Good Citizen Award, Salutatorian, AP Scholar with Distinction

Major: Sociology

College application essay help

I didn’t see many rainbows in India. They hide in the monsoon rains, or are too frightened by the hot, stifling climate. Likewise, I was terrified of showing that side of myself in a homophobic country, especially to the host family I had grown to love.

“Why India?” my friends would ask. They knew the cruel, anti- gay laws in that country. I knew I had to go anyway. I felt an obligation to see what life must be like when society ignores you, constricts you like a tightly-wound sari. And subconsciously, I hoped that I might somehow change opinions. Yet when I arrived, I was scared to broach the subject, even with Tanmay, my 13-year-old smart but immature, host brother.

Only a pink, flimsy curtain separated our shared bedroom from the corridor, but nevertheless a sort of secret camaraderie developed during our nightly hushed conversation. We hoped Aji and Baba wouldn’t hear us. As Tanmay asked me which of the girls on my program I liked, I remembered the sleepovers of my childhood, during which the discussion of romance was dreaded and confusing. Now, I countered with ease. “Sophia is pretty,” I diplomatically replied, re- leasing the moment’s tension that only I perceived. I began to enjoy responding to his provocative questions, the answers to which he already knew, teaching him what were accepted topics of discussion within my culture. “What is dating?” “How are babies made?” I reveled in his squirming and shock when I gave a blunt, sex-ed-type answer. “Have you ever liked a girl?” Personal pronouns had never before been so treacherous, nor so masterfully avoided.

I found myself relishing the satisfaction of self-knowledge, the thrill of carrying a secret, the transition from a very private introvert to now a big brother for the second time in my life—candid about everything—except for one.

“He’s the biggest homosexual in my class,” he snorted, while discussing his classmates. I seized up, but I willed myself to speak, venturing into unsafe airspace.

“Tanmay, you shouldn’t make fun of gay people.” I sounded like a cheesy tolerance advertisement. “Did you know that they” (the safety of third-person!) “don’t choose to be gay?” He disagreed. We continued bantering in the first truly meaningful debate of my life, though the culture clash was played with blunted weapons. The notion of me having gay friends astounded him. The thought of telling him the truth, which for my own safety I couldn’t do, was appealing. Instead, I took a different risk as I exposed myself to the likelihood of disappointment. “Did you know that in some parts of America, two men or two women can get married?” He did. “What do you think about that?”

I expected him to disapprove and prepared to brush off the ignorance. His experience was far different than my own. I remembered how lucky I was to live in colorful Massachusetts.

After a long pause, he replied. “I think it’s good. As long as a gay person doesn’t have to marry a non-gay person.”

I remember being overwhelmed by the hope that must have spilled from our humid apartment into the street below. I believed then, as now, that I had done a tiny part in the global quest for justice, and I was proud. Or perhaps progress was to come without my actions. Yet the unexpectedness of his affirmation, coupled with the innocent humor of its qualification, made me smile as the night’s tropical rains descended on India. We would find out the morning’s weather soon enough.

REVIEW

Erik takes a risk in this essay, but he executes it quite effectively. He writes about two topics often recommended to approach with caution in a college essay: traveling abroad and coming out.

However, Erik puts a unique spin on these topics. He narrows in on one specific anecdote of his travel experience, with the location being critical to the worldly nature of the story and his understanding of cultural differences. Similarly, instead of talking solely about his coming out experience, Erik uses this significant aspect of his identity as a way of contextualizing his experiences in a different culture. His story is one about standing firm in his identity and changing a mindset of a young adult. That is where this essay truly shines.

These two topics work together seamlessly to tell a specific story that has shaped his future desires. However, one aspect Erik could have improved upon is letting the story do the telling at the end, as he does through most of his essay. For example, using phrases like “quest for world justice” can be seen as not only cliché but also as a sweeping statement and unrealistic goal.

Erik successfully started with a broad introduction at the beginning, zoomed into a certain anecdote, and zoomed back out at the end. With his captivating language and attention to detail, he successfully engages the reader while taking risks with his essay—risks that worked together to accomplish an effective essay.

From 50 Successful Harvard Application Essays, 5th Edition edited by the Staff of the Harvard Crimson. Copyright (c) 2017 by the authors and reprinted by permission of St. Martin's Publishing Group.