December 2017
Vennela Vellanki:
Indian and Not Pre-Med
For “Career Day” in the first grade, I told my parents I wanted to dress up as a teacher. They handed me a stethoscope and a doctor’s coat instead.
In Science class in the 7th grade, I was asked a biology question on the human body. I got it wrong and my teacher claimed, “This should be easy for you since your parents are doctors and I’m assuming you want to be one, too.”
In the 11th grade my uncle once asked me what I planned to study in college. I responded that I enjoyed the Classics, like Latin and Ancient Greek, and the Social Sciences. He replied with sheer disappointment that “kids these days” are no longer driven or determined enough to pursue legitimate fields like medicine.
When I went to my grandmother’s house in India the summer before college started my sister was handed a beautiful gold necklace. I was told I’d get one when I got into Medical School.
I am Indian. That means there are a lot of expectations put on me by the Indian community, and there are a lot of stereotypes associated with me stemming from the rest of society—especially in terms of profession. I am supposed to love math and be good at the hard sciences. I am supposed to aspire to have one of three jobs: doctor, lawyer, or engineer. I am supposed to obey to these expectations or be labeled as rebellious, undetermined, and lazy by the Indian community, and comply to these stereotypes or simply feel stupid.
All my life I did a good job of straying from these set paths. I always wanted to do something different, something for myself. I was “rebellious.” I liked dancing, I spent a lot of my time writing, and I learned a dead language even though my parents insisted on something more practical. Even when I first came into college I took psychology and was part of the Lloyd Hall Scholars Program. I excelled. I was confident. I was happy.
Freshman winter I conformed.
The pressure of adulthood knocked me off my pedestal and I told my parents I wanted to pursue an M.D. Become a psychiatrist. The news spread fast amongst the Indian community and soon enough I had various aunties and uncles contact me to give me advice, praise, and respect. I was given shadowing opportunities and internships and old books and notes filled with all things science and all things medicine. I had all the support and knowledge in the world right at my fingertips.
But I was unhappy.
And in the summer I finally realized that the only way I will ever be content with myself and content with my world is if I do something that I love and that I feel is worth my time. I have always wanted to excel in the field of composition. The social and psychological aspects of people and society intrigue me. I’m passionate about learning new languages. So, much to the disappointment of my parents and all those aunties and uncles and various other Indian adults along the way, I am no longer pursuing an M.D. I am no longer taking the science classes I don’t like. I am minoring in Writing and filling my course load to the brim with humanities and social sciences. I am utterly confused about my future, but I am more determined than ever. I am feeling myself. And I am lovin’ the skin I’m in.