Left is Right Anonymous

It always felt right to go left. Instinctively, I would throw or kick with my left side. My left hand would pick up my pencil or turn the page of a book. Being left-handed is intuitive - something I cannot provide an explanation for. As I matured, writing became lengthier, sports became more intense, and paintings became more complex. Whether it is due to my genes or random chance, there is a sense of comfort and confidence that has grown within me from relying on my left side. No matter whether I am playing a sport, studying, or simply going about life, being left handed will always provide me with a way to stand out.

Being a lefty was not always accepted. My grandmother, for example, was one of many lefties who was forced to use her right hand to conform to the standard. As a result of this prejudice, we have become a right-handed world. In the classroom alone, there is an unspoken struggle to overcome tools designed for the right-handed person. My left palm is tattooed with ink stains that never vanish despite the frequency of washing my hands, my arms feel discomforted and misplaced in school desks shaped for a righty, and my fingers cry from throbbing due to the right-handed alignment of scissors. While in or out of the...