The truth is…
It’s all relative
“Hate it or love it, the underdog’s on top. And I’m gon’ shine, homie, until my heart stop.”
My parents immigrated from India. They couldn’t afford two plane tickets, so my dad came first until he had enough money to bring my mom over. They started in New York before settling in Michigan. My father busted his ass at Ford for nearly 20 years, slowly making his way up the corporate ladder through sheer force of will. He’s smart, but it’s his work ethic that made him unstoppable. My mother finished her Ph.D. with two young kids and became a university professor.
They worked hard to get our family a ranch-style home in a good suburban city. A few more years of hard work and frugal living and we were into a solid middle-class home in a great neighborhood.
Everything they earned was either saved or invested back in our education. I studied hard, but when I reached the top ranks of my public school, my parents weren’t satisfied. They put me into an elite private school where I was poor. My friends’ houses were 2-3x bigger than mine. They lived in gated communities with private pools in their backyards. These were the richest of the rich. When I wasn’t studying, I was at my friends’ houses to ensure they weren’t at mine.
It wasn’t easy. I left a public school where I was comfortably at the top and went to a private school where I was very uncomfortable and unsure of where I stood. I did what my parents expected: I busted my ass. My hard work culminated in my acceptance to Yale. When I visited the school and walked that historic campus, I knew I had made it.
“It’s mine it’s mine it’s mine - whose world is this? The world is yours, the world is yours.”
I was born in America to two people with graduate degrees (Masters and Ph.D.). A mother who was an esteemed professor at the top public university in the world. My father, by the time I have any real memories, was a high-level executive at Ford with amazing corporate car perks.
I come from fantastic genes. My mother’s family consists of a World Chess Champion and he’s not even an outlier – family gatherings felt like being at a TED conference.
Not only that, if I had it my way, I would have wasted that potential. I loved reading, but I loved sports more than anything. But in my family, I had no choice but to work hard. Academic success was not an option – excellence was demanded. If I came home with a 98 on a test, the first question was, “What’d you get wrong?” My parents came in search of the American dream and their kids were meant to be its’ embodiment. Without my parents, I’d never have developed the work ethic and ambition necessary to achieve academic success.
And despite occasionally feeling poor at the elite private school, I was anything but. When I was 25, I got my parents’ combined income at various ages (so I could ensure I was doing better than them). I found out that when I was in high school, my parents’ combined total income placed them in the 99th percentile.
Getting into Yale wasn’t the end of my story. Graduating debt-free thanks to my parents allowed it to be the beginning of my story. I was free to start my journey from the highest starting point, free from the shackles of financial obligations to anyone or anything. A beginning filled with endless possibilities.
“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.”
The first story is what I focused on for much of my life. My underdog status. My pursuit of the American Dream. What I achieved I very much deserved.
The second story is what I’ve focused on more and more as I’ve matured and especially as I’ve become a parent. My privileged status. My pursuits within the American elite. What I achieved was the product of my genes and environment.
It’s not that one story is right and one is wrong. The stories we tell ourselves shape our future. I adopted my parents’ struggles as my own and that fueled my ambition, my desire, my grit. I wouldn’t be where I am without that story. But reflecting on the second story is equally important. The second has fostered my compassion, my empathy, and my worldview. And I wouldn’t be who I am without it.