In many cultures, the question "Son, are you a lawyer?" carries more weight than a simple inquiry about one's profession. It often reflects deeper societal expectations, familial pressures, and the struggle between personal identity and external validation. This question, especially when posed in English, can be a microcosm of the broader challenges faced by individuals navigating their paths in a world that often prioritizes certain careers over others.
Growing up in a traditional household, I was no stranger to the weight of expectations. From a young age, my parents, like many others, had a clear vision of what success looked like. In their eyes, becoming a lawyer, doctor, or engineer was the ultimate achievement—a symbol of stability, respect, and financial security. The question "Son, are you a lawyer?" was not just a casual inquiry; it was a litmus test of whether I had met their expectations.
As I progressed through school, the pressure to conform to these expectations only intensified. Every report card, every extracurricular activity, and every career discussion was scrutinized through the lens of whether it would lead me to one of these "prestigious" professions. The question, "Son, are you a lawyer?" became a constant refrain, a reminder of the path I was supposed to follow.
But as I grew older, I began to question whether this path was truly my own. I found myself drawn to fields that were less conventional, less "respectable" in the eyes of my family and society. I discovered a passion for writing, for art, for technology—fields that didn't fit neatly into the traditional mold of success. The question "Son, are you a lawyer?" began to feel less like a measure of my worth and more like a barrier to my true self.
Navigating this tension between cultural expectations and personal identity has been one of the most challenging aspects of my journey. On one hand, I wanted to honor my family's sacrifices and meet their expectations. On the other hand, I knew that pursuing a career that didn't align with my passions would leave me unfulfilled. The question "Son, are you a lawyer?" became a symbol of this internal conflict, a reminder of the choices I had to make.
Ultimately, I realized that the answer to this question wasn't about meeting external expectations but about finding my own path. I came to understand that success isn't defined by a title or a profession but by the fulfillment and purpose I find in my work. While I may not be a lawyer, I am proud of the journey I've taken and the person I've become.
In the end, the question "Son, are you a lawyer?" is not just about a career choice; it's about the broader struggle to define oneself in a world that often tries to define us. It's a reminder that our identities are not determined by the expectations of others but by the choices we make and the passions we pursue. And for that, I am grateful.
So, to anyone else grappling with similar questions, I offer this: Your worth is not measured by the profession you choose but by the authenticity with which you live your life. Whether you're a lawyer, an artist, a teacher, or something entirely different, what matters most is that you are true to yourself.
