At my dining table, a silent war was being waged. Each side wielded glances, smirks, and snide remarks concealed under composed postures. The discomfort was palpable. Yet, newly eight-year-old me moved obliviously between my grandmas. To me, they were nearly the same person who loved me and, on this delightful occasion, had provided me with considerable compensation for lasting another year.
My first call to battle came sitting in the passenger seat of my grandma, Judy’s Toyota. As we rolled through the hills of Idaho, she spoke to me about a recent election and her opinions on various healthcare issues. Moved from a place of deep sorrow, she described my Aunt’s struggle to obtain insurance due to a pre-existing condition. She suggested her solutions, and I listened attentively, curious about her ideas since I had yet to form my own.
Months later, I found myself in a hammock under a sweeping eucalyptus, engaged in a similar discussion with my other grandma, Teresa. As a healthcare worker, she was very involved with the issue, yet her ideas fell completely opposite Judy’s.
This was when I discovered the origin of the hushed hostility afflicting my family.
The family I come from may seem divided with their vastly different views, but together, these women taught me the importance of being a listener. I learned that to understand an issue truly, you must first consider all thoughts and opinions, no matter how much you may disagree. The animosity I observed resulted from closed minds and echo chambers; from their discomfort, I’ve learned that progress can only be made through compromise and communication. At UW, I hope to contribute my distinct perspective on problem-solving alongside my engineering knowledge to collaborate with others through programs like Engineers Without Borders to create impactful solutions to universal problems.