Personal Narrative Essay

I was pulled in two directions when I was young. At age five, I joined a Chinese Martial Arts-Kungfu- class that stressed crisp and masculine moves. I also became interested in Huangmei Opera, a classical Southern Chinese opera much like Giacomo Puccini operas but emphasizes on female characters’ femininity with a touch of country music, at twelve.

On Sundays, I was showered by my opera mentor’s comments “be gentler and softer in your gestures.” On the next day, my Kungfu coach would want me to “add power to the swing and sharpen the kick.” I did my best to fulfill my both my teachers’ expectations, striving to be soft on one day and the polar opposite on the next. When I stepped into the Opera theater, I consciously reminded myself of the gentleness of Huangmei Opera’s movements, smiling in my most lady-like manner and slowing the pace of my actions. When I entered the venue where I had Kungfu classes, I wore a stern look on my face, trying to forget what my opera mentor told me the last day and to gain the sharpness back for my kicks and swings.

When I entered each class venues, I felt the ceilings and walls narrowing and pressing against me, constraining me like boxes. There were rules I was not allowed to break, conventions I needed to stick with. When I was in medieval Chinese costume during Huangmei Opera practices, I sensed the dress’s weight suppressing the toughness under my skin built by seven years of Kungfu. When I was completing my Kungfu routines, I felt the forceful actions limiting my own expression of the movements. It was almost