Well, this is personal statement draft #14. Any comments?
***
I am most definitely not one of those people that have wanted to be a lawyer since the age of five, and even the most cursory glance at my transcript shows what could be charitably called a liberal education. I can clearly recall the August before my second year, when barrages of e-mail were traded between my best friend and I as we agonized over what subject to declare our major in; neither of us had an outstanding aptitude in a single field that set us on an obvious path, and I eventually settled on physics because I had a hunch that biophysics would be the key to finding a cure for cancer, was enamoured with the idea of teaching as a physics professor, and consoled myself with the thought that even if I proved to be a terrible physicist, I could still call myself a rocket scientist. During my second year at university, however, something wholly unexpected prompted me to refocus my gaze from outer space back onto life here on Earth.
Not many people know that I battled disordered eating. I keep that part of my life private if only to save others from recalling the stereotypes associated with depression and anorexia; I cannot compete with violent media images of skeletal young women subject to hospitalization, heavy medication, force feeding and suicide watches, even if I never came close to any of these in reality. Nothing appears in my medical record beyond a drop in body weight over a few months, not even enough to make me underweight according to the corpus of medical literature, but those few months were enough to rewrite my status in society.
Though I maintained the quality of my academic work and even increased my activities in the community, my thinner body betrayed me. I have never felt so objectified, as my body became the focus of others instead of me, the person. Whether through concern or praise, comments about me invariably were comments about my bodily appearance, and it seemed impossible to leave anorexia behind; even when the disease was gone for good, the stigma was here to stay. Through my frustration, I realized my body was engaging in a dialogue with the society it was immersed in, and I resolved to become an active participant in that exchange.
I couldn’t work within this discourse while still in physics, and enrolled as an Honours English student to investigate literature and critical theories of the body. This change in my academics radiated out to all aspects of my life; I began to seriously involve myself in sports to rebuild a healthier relationship with my body, rekindled an old interest in debate and was quickly drawn to volunteering as a peer educator for self-esteem and body image issues. Where I once had problems choosing my courses for the next semester, I found myself with a goal driving all my ambitions and setting a clear career path for me.
No one should have to face discrimination because of an irrelevant disability or illness, and I feel that I have a personal investment in strengthening and enforcing the rights of people in those positions. As I already have an academic interest in critical legal theory – my graduating essay focuses on the use of speech-act theory in Canadian law, specifically with regards to the same-sex marriage debate – I see a legal education at _____ as a way to further my interest in critical theory, see how critical theories are deployed in the guise of the law, and gain the skills I need to confront inequity first-hand as a lawyer.
I may not have known that I would want to devote my life to the practice of law fifteen years ago, but I believe that all my experiences since then have directed me towards anti-discrimination work. My experience with disordered eating has left only a few pieces of evidence that still exist today: a few pairs of too-tight jeans, some photographs, and a strong desire to work in the field of human rights. We all have just one body in which to live, and I see no reason as to why we should be unduly tied to its limitations.
***
I am most definitely not one of those people that have wanted to be a lawyer since the age of five, and even the most cursory glance at my transcript shows what could be charitably called a liberal education. I can clearly recall the August before my second year, when barrages of e-mail were traded between my best friend and I as we agonized over what subject to declare our major in; neither of us had an outstanding aptitude in a single field that set us on an obvious path, and I eventually settled on physics because I had a hunch that biophysics would be the key to finding a cure for cancer, was enamoured with the idea of teaching as a physics professor, and consoled myself with the thought that even if I proved to be a terrible physicist, I could still call myself a rocket scientist. During my second year at university, however, something wholly unexpected prompted me to refocus my gaze from outer space back onto life here on Earth.
Not many people know that I battled disordered eating. I keep that part of my life private if only to save others from recalling the stereotypes associated with depression and anorexia; I cannot compete with violent media images of skeletal young women subject to hospitalization, heavy medication, force feeding and suicide watches, even if I never came close to any of these in reality. Nothing appears in my medical record beyond a drop in body weight over a few months, not even enough to make me underweight according to the corpus of medical literature, but those few months were enough to rewrite my status in society.
Though I maintained the quality of my academic work and even increased my activities in the community, my thinner body betrayed me. I have never felt so objectified, as my body became the focus of others instead of me, the person. Whether through concern or praise, comments about me invariably were comments about my bodily appearance, and it seemed impossible to leave anorexia behind; even when the disease was gone for good, the stigma was here to stay. Through my frustration, I realized my body was engaging in a dialogue with the society it was immersed in, and I resolved to become an active participant in that exchange.
I couldn’t work within this discourse while still in physics, and enrolled as an Honours English student to investigate literature and critical theories of the body. This change in my academics radiated out to all aspects of my life; I began to seriously involve myself in sports to rebuild a healthier relationship with my body, rekindled an old interest in debate and was quickly drawn to volunteering as a peer educator for self-esteem and body image issues. Where I once had problems choosing my courses for the next semester, I found myself with a goal driving all my ambitions and setting a clear career path for me.
No one should have to face discrimination because of an irrelevant disability or illness, and I feel that I have a personal investment in strengthening and enforcing the rights of people in those positions. As I already have an academic interest in critical legal theory – my graduating essay focuses on the use of speech-act theory in Canadian law, specifically with regards to the same-sex marriage debate – I see a legal education at _____ as a way to further my interest in critical theory, see how critical theories are deployed in the guise of the law, and gain the skills I need to confront inequity first-hand as a lawyer.
I may not have known that I would want to devote my life to the practice of law fifteen years ago, but I believe that all my experiences since then have directed me towards anti-discrimination work. My experience with disordered eating has left only a few pieces of evidence that still exist today: a few pairs of too-tight jeans, some photographs, and a strong desire to work in the field of human rights. We all have just one body in which to live, and I see no reason as to why we should be unduly tied to its limitations.
