I finally got it.
I finally
figured out why female superheroes tend to be not as romantic. Spiderman has
Mary Janes, and Superman has Lois Lane. But what about Wonderwoman? Batgirl?
When people
think of the word “hero”, it usually elicits an image of burly man with masks
and capes or with yellow jumpers and fire hose. Or sometimes, it recalls an
image of ancient historical figures whose works and feats seem too far away
from the lives of ordinary people. However, to me, that word elicits an image
of Jain Kim, a petite girl with a large smile.
I like to say
that I’ve always been full of passion and confidence, but in fact, that hasn’t
always been the case. I wasn’t shy, but rather insecure, preferring an one-way
debate with curly letters in books to clashing with my peers. A boyfriend? That
was a fairy tale. I was too baby-faced, too content, and perhaps even
complacent to think of such matter. The stuffed dolphin that kept its place on
my bed for more than ten years was enough for me. Maybe in my dreams after all
the lights are off, but not in this real side of the world.
Naturally, I
had no intention of “competing” when I first took up climbing. It was in the
urge of my mother who worried about my seemingly feeble stature and lack of
exercise that I went to the nearby climbing center. (I broke my glasses twice
as I tried to play in a basketball game.) When the trainer pointed to the wall
that I’d eventually be climbing, I turned to mom and rasped,
“Mom, you’re
serious? With my height?”
The wall was
15 meters high, but certainly comparable to Mt. Everest. It was not even
perpendicular, slanting at an awkward angle that reminded me of those action
movies with secret agents. And all I had to prevent me from falling into the
doom was a rope thinner than my own thumb and a safety harness with Velcro that
did not seem too sturdy. Me? Climb that? No way.
But only a
couple of feet away, there Jain was, climbing up and down the wall as if she
was bitten by a radioactive spider. And she was a good two inches shorter! On
my way home, I grumbled to my mother, accusing her of trying to kill her own
daughter, but deep inside, my thoughts were filled with that tiny Spiderwoman.
I was
inevitably drawn back to the facility, day after day, staring at her feats with
awe while my own climbing made tangible improvements. It wasn’t until I asked
the manager her whereabouts that I learned that she was ranked first in the
world and that she had gone to Italy to compete.
The first in
the world. It was like finding out that my next door neighbor was a Nobel Prize
Laureate or an Oscar Winning actress. Suddenly, the walls of my world started
to shake apart. I’ve had numerous people who shaped my life: my brother brought
me to the world of science, my mother to self-reliance. But it was this tiny
girl with beautiful smile that let me see how tiny my world was. Now was time
for me to take up my own share of medals in domestic competitions. Dreams were
no longer limited to beds. They started to invade the areas of reality.
One day, I
finally gathered up enough courage to go up and ask Jain a question that I had
kept in my mind for long.
“Why are you
so passionate about climbing?”
After all,
there’s not much fame or money involved in this fringe sport; I’d never be able
to play baseball with Alex Rodriguez, will I?
“Because it’s
there.” She replied.
Someone needs
to reach the top. Someone needs to travel to Mars, and someone needs to cure
the cancer. So, why not me? Why don’t I go for it?
“Er…. Do you
have a boyfriend?”
She broke into
a hearty laughter and shook her head.
“I don’t have
time for that.”
See? I figured
it out.
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