Annabel Wang

When I was little, I always thought I wanted to be a doctor. I believed I was made for it, and every time I brought it up, it would light up my families' faces and I basked in their encouragement. It felt great, and I obsessively researched medical professions for years, seeking that validation. I'm going to become a neurosurgeon, I thought for the majority of my life. 

But it was built on a false foundation, and I was further sinking myself into the stereotype, as well as a false reality.  It shouldn't have taken me a decade to figure out that I didn't want to be a doctor, but unfortunately, that pressure is something that many "model minorities" face. 

Looking back, there were so many red flags that I pushed away and ignored because I wanted to fulfill my duty as an Asian: to become a doctor, lawyer, or engineer. The most glaringly obvious thing that should have deterred me was the fact that I don't even like interacting with strangers, and frankly, caring about each of their individual needs. A lot of my Asian peers tell me "Who cares? You'll earn a lot of money", but maybe I'm just "old school" in the sense that I believe that doctors should care about people. I know that if I became a doctor, I wouldn't truly care about my patients and that makes me feel sick inside. I know that whenever I seek help from a medical professional, I would want them to do their job out of compassion, instead of fame and glory. 

Whenever someone tells me they are becoming doctors for the money, I want to ask them so badly if it's worth it, because I know that they are stuck in the myth as well (That isn't to say that I have "fully ascended into mental peace" and that I am better than my peers, because as I still, unfortunately, perpetuate stereotypes pretty much daily). 

I blindly believed I was going to be a doctor until the end of freshman year. I was in HOSA, a medical club/competition, and I had been applying left and right for volunteer opportunities in hospitals for months, scrambling for any Saturday Academy medical event possible. 

But suddenly, when I was helping at a THPRD event, I met an ecologist and conservationist. She was so cool and down to earth, and she told me stories of her career path, her adventures in all of the continents. She was only about 30, yet it seemed like she had touched every corner of our planet, and I had never met someone so passionate about their job. I was truly awestruck. 

After talking with her for an afternoon, I went home and had the biggest mental breakdown of my life. It felt like my entire belief system was crumbling, as I had an epiphany. 

It sounds stupid, but I finally realized that there were other jobs out there. I knew that I loved science, but I never bothered to look past medicine, a huge mistake on my part. I started realizing things about myself I already knew but never strung together. 

I've always loved animals. I love the environment, and I want to save it. I love the idea of the Universe and the search for life. I love to travel, hike, see the clouds, mountains, oceans, the sunrises and sunsets, and the entire world. And being a doctor would limit me greatly. 

To people not considered as a "model minority",  that revelation probably doesn't sound like that big of a deal. But within my community, denouncing any of the "traditionally successful" occupations is met with side-eyes and subconscious pity. After all, why would I willingly strive after a job that makes 50k to 60k a year? 

To this day, my parents still believe I want to be a doctor because I can't bring myself to tell them that I don't want to.

To a lot of my Asian peers: If you weren't Asian, would you still want to be a doctor or an engineer? It's an extremely hard question to answer since we were raised from day one that we strive for these occupations consensually. We feel pressured to waste our lives away on being "successful" and earning obscene amounts of money at the disposal of our health and happiness. So much of it is conditioned within us, myself included.

I ended up quitting HOSA, the medical competition, in my sophomore year. To my peers, it probably looked like I was okay, but in reality, it was one of the hardest decisions of my life. It was just an afterschool club.. but to me, when I quit HOSA, I quit my dreams of being a doctor.

  It meant breaking off from the stereotype enforced upon me, and the years of aspiration I blindly dedicated. 

It felt so freeing, but terrifying at the same time. I could finally do the things I wanted to do, and pursue any career I wanted in the entire world. I want to become a successful biologist, scientist, conservationist, and someday thank that ecologist that changed my life. 

But even now, I still feel a lot of doubt. Deep down, I question if leaving behind medicine was the right choice if I was damaging some type of "honor" I was supposed to upkeep. 

Being a second-generation immigrant, as well as a "model minority", a clash of East and West, is the weirdest feeling. We tell each other "You don't need a lot of money to be happy" and "Do what career you are passionate about" and yet none of us truly believe what we are saying. 

I still don't know how much of this self-enforced stereotype I have left, and how it is affecting my life choices. But I am working hard to combat it, so that future-me doesn't have to feel waves of guilt whenever anything medical or engineering related is brought up. 

 I am so incredibly thankful that I had this realization while I was still young, and not in the middle of medical school, or the middle of residency, slicing open the brain of a patient I didn't care about. 

The takeaway from this is that I hope the rest of my "model minority" friends and peers also don't make the same mistakes as me. Take a moment to really think, and rethink if you have to before it's too late.