How Literature Saves Lives

Abstract

I learned to read when I was six years old, and the first sentence my mother helped me construct was “I can read!” I felt empowered. Ten years later, I woke up one day, with one blind eye. I couldn’t see for a week, and at school, I was called “Blind Girl.” That’s when I realized how people label each other, categorize each other, and reject anything that looks different. By the time I was eighteen, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS), which is a neurological illness that can affect any part of the body. You may wake up blind one day, paralyzed the next; but not all people with MS are in wheelchairs. My doctor, however, did tell my parents that I would end up in a wheelchair, and that it was pointless to pursue higher education. But because I felt like there was a ticking bomb, the shadow of loss looming behind me, I took everything two steps at a time. I ran as fast as I could, and realized that I wanted to teach literature. Sometimes, as cliche as this might sound, we give up on our dreams. Or, we put them on hold. But when dreams are threatened, when you feel that loss is inevitable, you have a choice: you either give up, or fight harder than ever before. There were days where I struggled to write my essays, and as you all know, literature majors need their hands to write. We write and write. I needed to learn how to find different ways of holding the pen, managing my exams, and still attempting to keep my chin up. It was no easy task.