Make It, Or Break It

For the past two weeks, I (and probably everyone else in America) have been mesmerized by the Olympics. Speedskaters being disqualified, the Canadians most revered sport ending in upset, and America's first medals in a sport dominated by Europe for 86 years. But along with the actual competitions come the stories: stories of strife, stories of disappointment, and stories of dreams coming true.

There's Tugba Karademir. A figure skater from Turkey who is the first to represent her country in her Olympic sport. But it did not come without a price. Her mother left her job as an engineer in Turkey so her daughter could train in Canada. Both parents now work menial jobs, and could not even land tickets to watch their daughter perform until an unknown benefactor stepped in.

There's Olympic ski crosser Chris Del Bosco, who has struggled with substance and alcohol abuse. After being stripped of two US national titles and being found drunk in a ditch with a broken neck, he entered rehab. Now being clean and sober, he is one of Canada's finest.

We, as Americans, love these stories of tribulation and triumph. But elsewhere in the world, they are not so revered. I remember a conversation I had with a friend before I left Singapore. His upbringing was less than stellar: his grandmother raised him, being abandoned by his mother. And the mother–son relationship today barely deserves the label "relationship." He has had to make success for himself, with little support from others. When I heard his story, I thought "that's a story that American dreams are made of." But according to him, Singaporean stories of struggle don't boost, they blemish.

When he opened my eyes to this fact, I thought back to my time in Nigeria. Not only were stories of tribulation and triumph not appreciated, they were the stories of everyone's lives. It's not just the poor, it's not just the middle-class. Everyone has trials, everyone has tragedy. And having money or an advantaged-life doesn't preclude you to a life without them.

So last night when I opted for American Idol instead of Olympics and the stories began again, I felt a little less sensitive. The story of Andrew Garcia whose parents were in gangs and they only sought a gang-free life for their son. The story of John Park whose family has struggled with money their entire lives. The stories were as much a gauge of success as the performance itself.

You see, here in the United States, our "stories" often make our success. Who knew that elsewhere they might break it.