Together One Earth

Artist’s Statement 

For my creative writing class, I chose to write about mental health with the specific goal of spreading autism awareness. My work combines a mixture of fictional storytelling with some of my own experiences as a person on the autism spectrum. 

My pieces are meant to serve as a platform for open discussions of autism and the wide variety of ways in which it manifests itself in different people. Even though I possess full creative license over the characters I created for my short story, I wanted to stay sensitive to the fact that my position on autism is heavily influenced by my own life experiences and my high-functioning autism. My writing reflects that by being based mostly on my own perspective rather than that of someone else. For example, my fictional character Jay’s hyperfixation on a certain subject (a book) is a common trait of many with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) which I can easily relate to and understand. Although not everyone on the spectrum will find my characters relatable on every level, straying beyond my personal knowledge runs the risk of portraying stereotypes rather than facts. 

The goal of both my poems and my short story is to demonstrate that there are many aspects of autism that may originally appear as a weakness but, in the right circumstances, could actually prove a strength. In my short story, Jay is on the autism spectrum. Even though there are many aspects which define someone with autism, for Jay’s character, I wanted to specifically emphasize the idea of the special interest. The term special interest refers to a subject in which a person on the spectrum becomes intensely focused on to the point that they are constantly thinking and talking about it. Without context and in a normal setting, one might find Jay’s character annoying. However, in my short story, The Transformation, there is a twist: in a world far from home, only Jay’s expertise will give her and Katelyn any chance of surviving long enough to return home. For both girls, I wanted their character arcs to crisscross: as Jay grows more confident over the course of the story, Katelyn becomes more vulnerable.  

My work was mainly inspired by two authors, Val Emmich, author of Dear Evan Hansen, and Rick Riordan, author of Percy Jackson, along with many other mythology inspired book series. From Dear Evan Hansen, I wanted to place a similar emphasis on mental health, or in my case autism even as I weaved a tale of fantasy and imagination. From Percy Jackson, I wanted to illustrate a similar idea that traits of certain mental conditions could be taken as disadvantages or special abilities depending on circumstance and perspective. 

I think that the most important message I want readers to take away from reading my work is about the value of people with ASD: the passion we hold regarding our special interests, no matter how obscure or strange they initially seem. 

The Transformation

A push. A fall. A gasp of surprise. Katelyn’s eyes finally adjust to the blinding white light. She finds herself in a strange forest. As her friend Jay stands frozen in bewilderment, Katelyn approaches an algae-filled lake, glistening with an iridescent green glow. Katelyn takes off her shoes, so she can test out the water. Her toes splash as she dips them in. It is cold but refreshing, and the water is unnaturally clear. Across the lake, an endless forest leads up to snowy mountains. Despite the overcast sky, the air feels warm but crisp. 

“Um, Jay? Where are we?”
“IT WORKED. I didn’t think it would, but it did! IT WORKED! IT WORKED!” 

“Wait. We’re in your favorite book? Transformed? How?” 

“I don’t know, but it’s exciting, right?” Jay exclaimed, her eyes lit up with growing enthusiasm. 

“Yeah… I guess, but how are we going to get back?” 

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that.” 

Thoughts race through Katelyn’s head and she begins to pace nervously. How are we going to get back? Could we be trapped here forever? I mean, I never liked the pressure of being the “popular” girl, but I certainly don’t belong in a book!

“Hey,” says a calm voice, jerking Katelyn out of her momentary panic. She feels a comforting arm wrap around her. “It’s okay. I know unfamiliar people and places make you nervous. I would be in your exact same position if we were anywhere else, but at the moment, it’s taking all my brain power not to freak out over the fact that I’m actually in my favorite book!”

Suddenly, Jay’s confident demeanor falters for a second, “Oh… I hope I don’t say anything awkward. Anyway, you shouldn’t worry. I’ve got this. I can navigate this world better than anyone.” 

Katelyn laughs, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, I’m worried. Isn’t the whole premise of Transformed that, after getting lost in the woods, seven friends learn to survive in the wilderness because they can shapeshift into any animal at will? Last I checked, we don’t have that power.” 

“Yeah, um, I didn’t think of that. I guess I was thinking we could—” 

“Who are you?” a voice calls behind the two friends. Katelyn jumps, but Jay remains still and unsurprised. The two girls turn around to find a young girl standing behind them. She looks about their age, maybe a few years younger. She has curly brown hair and a fierce expression on her face. Katelyn gets the feeling this girl is not someone she would want to cross. Glancing nervously at her friend, Katelyn is shocked to find that Jay looks completely unperturbed by the emergence of a newcomer. 

Jay is the first to speak, “I’m Jay, and this is my friend Katelyn. I can’t believe I’m finally meeting you! You’re my favorite charact—I mean—it’s nice to meet you!” 

“I see,” the girl stares each of them down as if checking for weapons. “You might as well come with me then.” She turns around and dashes off leaving them with no choice but to follow. 

As they run, Jay whispers, “That’s Mei. I’m guessing you haven’t gotten to that part in the book yet? Where Mei is introduced?” 

“No. I guess not,” Katelyn admits, breathing heavily. “Where’s she taking us?” 

“I’m guessing to their main camp.” 

“Whose camp? Should we tell them we don’t belong here?” 

“The camp of the transformed. As for your second question, no that’s probably a bad idea,” 

Katelyn pauses for a moment to consider this, “Okay, but what should we tell them? We can’t stay here forever!” 

“We’re here,” Mei says, momentarily interrupting their conversation. 

After running for what feels like miles, Jay and Katelyn stop to catch their breath as Mei scouts out the campsite. In the center of the camp, there are log benches and a fire pit. Scattered around are seven different tents. Each one is a different color to represent its respective resident. Directly across from the campfire, Jay spots the makeshift kitchen. It looks like a simple grey trailer, but the smells wafting from it are heavenly. In the distance, a bird sings, but the tune is intricate enough that Jay suspects it is probably one of the transformed: a human who has shapeshifted into a bird. 

Mei introduces Katelyn and Jay to all her friends, and then, they begin work. Jay tries to come up with a cover story for her and Katelyn’s mysterious arrival, but it seems Mei is just happy to have an extra set of hands helping out, so she doesn’t ask many questions. The next few hours or days—time runs differently when one is trapped in a book—go by in a blur. Together, the two friends catch fish, learn to hunt and track, and forage for plants and berries. They even begin to have fun and make friends in their new reality. Still, Katelyn knows that they must get home, and after work one day, she finally decides to nag Jay about their plans to return back to their universe. 

“Jay, I’ve let you enjoy the past few days without complaint, but don’t you think it’s high time we think about going home?” 

“I-I guess.” 

“I mean, do you have any idea how to get home?” 

“I suppose there’s one way, but it’s extremely dangerous. We might not make it out alive. If not for the help of River, Mei’s girlfriend, she never would’ve survived.” 

“We have to try, though, right?” 

“Yeah…” 

Katelyn gazes at her friend worriedly. Jay has a wide grin on her face, despite the high risk of the plan she just proposed. Katelyn is thankful that Jay’s knowledge of the Transformed universe is endless, but can reading about something ever prepare someone for the real deal? They spend the next few days training harder than they’ve ever trained before, but all too soon, the day of the start of their journey finally arrives. Just before sunrise, Mei wakes them up for a hasty breakfast and helps them take stock of the resources they packed. 

“Good luck. You’ll need it,” Mei calls in a final goodbye.

“If you survive, send us a sign!” River yells enthusiastically. 

“We will…” Jay calls back halfheartedly, knowing full well that they probably won’t be returning any time soon, if at all. Then, with one final wave, Jay and Katelyn disappear into the trees. 

“So… Do you know where to go?” 

“Um… Give me a moment. I need to remember what happens in the book.”

 A look of realization dawns on Jay’s face, “Oh! Wait, I remember. They look for tracks on the ground.” 

“Why? Were they looking for someone? Or… something?” Katelyn asks with growing worry. 

“Yeah… I’m sure we’ll be fine though. I don’t see any—” Jay stops mid-sentence and gasps. “N-never m-mind. B-be v-very q-quiet.” 

They left the campsite at daybreak, but now it seems as if a cloud has covered up the sun, leaving Katelyn and Jay in near darkness. The once warm air is now cold enough to make Katelyn shiver. The trees are denser now. The grass is still green, but it glows with an almost supernatural light. Aside from a faint whistling in the wind, and Jay’s steady breathing, the forest is deadly quiet. After a few minutes of walking in relative silence, with Jay’s comforting presence over her shoulder, Katelyn begins to grow more confident. That peace is quickly broken, however, when she sees a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. 

Slowly, the two girls turn around and find themselves face to face with a monster. For a moment, Jay and Katelyn stand there, frozen, gazing at the fearsome beast in their path. It stares back. Standing at twenty feet tall, the beast has red glowing eyes and eight hairy legs. It growls a challenge and looks prepared for a fight. The two girls back up slowly as the dirt on the ground crunches beneath their feet. 

“W-what is t-that?” Katelyn whispers, but Jay just looks at her in warning and mouths the words, “Be quiet, and don’t move.” 

The creature stares at them for a few minutes more before finally getting bored and moving along. 

Katelyn is the first to break the silence, “Is it gone?” 

“I think so, but we should stay here for a little while longer in case it decides to come back,” Jay responds. 

An uncomfortable silence passes over the two girls, each taking a moment to comprehend their potentially near-death experience. 

“Okay, I think it’s safe to keep going,” Jay says. 

“Alright, but don’t walk too far ahead. You’re my compass,” Katelyn laughs, although she is completely serious. 

“Do you think we’ll ever come back?” 

“I mean… No? Unless you know how to magically transport yourself across realities,” Katelyn responds.

The girls walk on until Jay suddenly stops, a fearful look in her eyes. She grabs Katelyn’s arm.

“K-Katelyn? I t-think someone’s f-following us.” 

“W-What do y-you mean?” 

“I just—aaaaah!” 

Jay screams as a mysterious force scoops her off the ground. By the time Katelyn comes to her senses, Jay is gone. The sky seems to darken, even more than it already had, an ominous warning of what lies ahead. Katelyn can feel her heartbeat quicken and her palms grow sweaty. She slowly turns around, careful to make as little noise as possible. Aside from the sound of her panicked breaths, the forest is even quieter now: too quiet. She hears the rustling of leaves, but the source of the sound stays hidden. 

Lip trembling, Katelyn manages to whimper, “J-Jay? W-What w-was t-that?” 

When she hears no response, she takes a moment to brace herself. Katelyn’s whole body is shaking in fear, but she has no choice. She turns around slowly and finds herself face to face with the same creature they’d encountered before, spinning a web around Jay with a hungry look in its eyes. 

“J-Jay? What do I do?” 

“L-Look in my bag. Y-You should find my s-special s-scissors in there,” Jay was trying to keep her voice steady, but despite her superior knowledge of Transformed, it seems even Jay finds the prospect of becoming a monster’s dinner terrifying. 

“W-What will they d-do?” 

“They’re the same scissors River used to free Mei from this exact same monster in the book! Grab them and come cut the web trapping me. Start with my hands and work your way down!” 

Before she can even begin to comprehend what happens next, Katelyn jumps into action. The monster roars in fury, but she is too quick for it. All the time she spent training with Mei and the others seems to have paid off, and within seconds, Jay is free! But there’s no time for a proper reunion. The two friends run for their lives; there is a blinding light; and they are back home. 

“Huh?” Jay asks. “How’d we get back here?”

“I don’t know, but I guess you did it! You got us home!” Relieved, Katelyn goes to hug Jay but stops when she sees Jay’s somber expression. 

“Hey? What’s wrong?” Katelyn questions, brow furrowed.

“It’s just… I hoped…” Jay pauses, struggling to get her words out. 

“You wanted to see them one more time. Didn’t you?” As realization hits her, Katelyn immediately feels guilty. Her eyes soften, and she hopes that Jay doesn’t mistake her question for an accusation. 

“Yeah. I know it’s silly. We don’t even belong in their world, but… I at least wanted them to know we made it out alive.” 

“Well… I guess I was doubtful before, but maybe there is a way for you to find your way back. And I’m not trying to get your hopes up. I promise; I truly believe you could go back.” 

“Why?” Jay asks, looking unimpressed.

Katelyn is silent for a few moments before finally speaking, “Look, I owe you an explanation and… an apology.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’ll be honest. I was a little exasperated when you first introduced me to Transformed. I just assumed it was another one of your obsessions, something endearing but also just another fantasy world with little practical importance. But I was wrong. I see that now. If not for your supreme knowledge of Transformed, we never would have made it out alive.” 

“Thanks. I appreciate you for saying that, but why are you telling me this now?” Jay asks a trace of confusion and hurt in her voice. 

“I just mean that your ability to see the world in a way I can’t is powerful, and I think that’s why you were able to enter their universe and why I think you can find your way back. You can do anything you want if you put your mind to it.” 

“Really? I mean autism is just part of who I am. It’s not exactly a superpower, but I appreciate you saying that.”

“Yeah… Maybe we can talk more as we walk. Want to hang out at my house and read Transformed together?” 

“Sure. You’re a good friend, Katelyn. Now then… our next adventure awaits!” 

Hi everyone! I hope you are doing as well as possible during this difficult time.  

This summer, I took two Columbia pre-college classes, and I wanted to share some of my takeaways from them, particularly as they relate to the topic of nonhuman animal justice and conservation. When referring to animals, I use the term nonhuman animals to clarify the idea that scientifically speaking, humans are animals too. I believe that by recognizing that humans and nonhuman animals are equal in that classification, we can begin to understand that humans are not so different from or better than other animals as we’d like to think. Therefore, they deserve the same treatment we give our fellow human beings.

 My first class, “Inside the Animal Mind: How Animals Think and Feel,” taught me a tremendous amount about cognitive ethology—a field of scientific study that I will pursue in connection with a major in Biology, and likely as a career. For centuries, scientists have debated the notion that nonhuman animals can think and feel as humans do. However, as many pet owners, myself included, would agree, nonhuman animals show us proof of their emotional lives every day that they live with us. Cognitive ethology is often confused with basic ethology or psychology, both of which can involve the study of animal behavior. While the field does involve observing how nonhuman animals behave, the methods it uses, and the conclusions it draws, are different. 

Cognition represents many subjects, from thinking, to emotions, to consciousness. Although scientists have studied human cognition for years, there is still a tremendous amount that remains unknown simply because cognition is not a physical object that can be concretely measured. Unlike the brain, the mind cannot be examined by X Rays or surgery. If we can’t even fully grasp how cognition works amongst human animals, it is exponentially more difficult to understand in nonhuman animals. Nevertheless, cognitive ethologists are resilient and not dissuaded by the claims that anecdotal evidence is insufficient data to tell the whole story. After all, it is far worse to assume that nonhuman animals are not sentient and therefore cannot feel pain than it is to assume that they are sentient and should be treated accordingly. In the first case, being wrong causes nonhuman animals tremendous suffering but in the second case, being wrong has no effect and there is no harm done. 

I’ve always loved nonhuman animals and been passionate about speaking up for their rights. In recent years, however, I became slightly discouraged by the controversy surrounding certain topics such as animal testing and certain organizations such as PETA. My instincts erred on the side of speaking up whenever I saw any animals suffering at the hands of humans. Yet when I heard the counterarguments such as “animal testing can help cure diseases,” and “PETA tends to bend the truth to fulfill their own extreme agenda,” I could easily understand where people were coming from, which caused me to question my own opinions. I couldn’t help but feel that some of the moral dilemmas surrounding nonhuman animal rights could be easily solved if humans and animals could communicate and that frustrated me. Therefore, when I took “Inside the Animal Mind,” it struck me that the challenges cognitive ethologists face in proving animal cognition were incredibly similar. In both cases, the biggest obstacle is anthropocentrism, the idea that humans are more intelligent than other animals and therefore, they must always come first in the social order. 

My second class, “Conservation Biology and Sustainability: Preserving the Planet,” taught me about the broad range of topics that conservationists can study. Previously, I only understood the general concept of conservation: protecting endangered species (both plants and animals). I expected that I could predict every subject the class would cover. However, after taking the course, I realized that there was infinitely more for me to learn. I came to understand that conservation can be achieved through myriad methods. 

I was surprised to find that people can be inspired to support conservation for reasons other than science and love of the environment and animals. I considered the moral dilemma of invasive species. I knew that since humans caused the problem, they have to fix it. However, I’d never taken into account the idea that sometimes, once the problem has escalated far enough for an extended amount of time, invasive species will just keep coming back if you try to relocate them. Therefore, the only solution is to kill them. After my previous session considering how nonhuman animals think and feel, I found it difficult to consider that humans caused the death of countless native species and, eventually, the necessary elimination of many invasive species who would never have become invasive in the first place, were it not for human influence. 

I learned many important lessons from “Conservation Biology and Sustainability.” One lesson that I continue to think about is that in conservation, the most obvious or simple explanation for a problem isn’t always right. For example, in the Pacific Northwest, a seal species is endangered. I assumed it was endangered because of overfishing. The video we watched before our class discussion described perceived conservation solutions that had proved ineffective at identifying the root of the problem. Like me, conservationists previously assumed that these seal populations were declining because overfishing eliminated their main food source thereby leaving the seals to starve. In reality, however, the problem was that certain whale species who were once the primary prey of orcas were being hunted by humans. With no other food source, the killer whales were left with only one option: eat the seals. 

I enjoyed taking these courses with renowned professors who challenged me and working with talented classmates who helped me see different perspectives through our many group discussions and projects. I was also grateful to have the chance to hear from different highly inspirational guest speakers and have the chance afterward to ask them questions and connect over our shared interests.

In the summer after third-grade, I adopted Firestar, my first kitten. Lovingly, I named her after a character from my favorite book series, Warriors, by Erin Hunter. When I started fourth grade, I couldn’t wait to share the news with all my friends, including L. I couldn’t help myself; whenever I thought of Firestar’s cute face, I smiled and talked in a baby voice. L was not impressed, and according to her, “My parents don’t approve of people who talk in baby voices.” In my now offended state, I retorted, “That’s because your parents are too serious!” As soon as I said it, I immediately regretted it. I watched helplessly as the look on her face twisted from slight disapproval to pure anger.

In the moment, I was terrified because I knew she would want payback. She would never let me forget what I’d said, even if it was only in a state of impulsive annoyance. Still, I should never insult someone’s family, that’s a social line nobody should cross. Certainly, I’d be upset if someone made a rude comment about my parents. Then again, L was not my mother, and therefore she had no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, right? Instead of being happy for me or understanding my excitement about Firestar, L made a condescending comment about the way I expressed my joy. I found myself increasingly confused. Endless questions cycled through my mind. Did I ruin our friendship by making an insensitive comment toward her parents? Was she justified in her treatment of me? What was her motive?

“How was your day today, Sophie?” my mom asked. “It was terrible,” I groaned. My mom frowned. She knew something was wrong. Every day since I’d begun fourth grade, she noticed the cloud of sadness that seemed to permanently follow me. “What happened?” she asked. I tried my best to explain the situation. I thought I offended L, but L wouldn’t talk to me about it as if she expected me to figure out what I should do. I could never find the right words, though, to explain how I felt sad and angry but most of all confused. In the meantime, I had a tasty bowl of rice in front of me that ready for consumption. Aside from soup and noodles, rice has always been my go-to food, but this time I was far too distracted to even enjoy the deliciousness of my all-time favorite food.

I felt helpless. If I went to my teachers, L threatened to come for me and call me a tattletale. My parents tried to explain the issue to the school, but my teachers didn’t understand the full extent of the issue or simply failed to take the necessary protocols. My friends couldn’t help either because they were afraid of what L would do if they stood up to her. At the time, my friend group consisted entirely of people younger than me, but I wasn’t close enough or comfortable enough with the other fourth graders to seek their guidance. Therefore, I concluded, that since I couldn’t find any clear allies, I could only put walls up and hope, every day, that I went to school, that L would forget to make my life torture.

The decorations were all set up, and the school was transformed into a haunted house. Normally, I would be happy it was Halloween, but today, I couldn’t be more miserable. I was being tormented, not by a ghost, but by her: L, which arguably, was even more terrifying than any supernatural being that one might find wandering the street on Halloween night. Meanwhile, I was anticipating and dreading the interaction that would occur once she’d spotted me. When the moment came, however, I was surprised. She smiled at me–were we friends? My other friend, A, assured me that L had forgiven me, but I wasn’t convinced. Her behavior was too strange to be genuine. I couldn’t explain exactly what was up with L, but I couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in my heart that she was only being nice to play mind tricks on me. Acting friendly again meant that when she decided to resume her role as a bully, it would hurt me more.

For a long time, she had almost convinced me it was my fault. I thought it was normal for her to behave that way because I had deeply offended her by “insulting” her parents. When she told me, “How does it feel to not have any friends?” I even found myself thinking that I deserved to have no friends. But two years later, when I was about to begin my first year of middle school, I finally began to understand. She was not behaving in the way a friend should. A real friend would talk to me about how she felt and would eventually forgive me. After the day I told her that her parents are “too serious,” though, L began acting as though our friendship had never existed. I’d always been aware that bullying was a common occurrence in many schools, but I wasn’t at all prepared for her mental abuse.

Although my entire fourth-grade year was a living nightmare, if I had the chance to change what happened, I wouldn’t because I learned an important lesson. I found my inner strength and realized that while I should always err on the side of kindness, I should also expect people to respect me in return. Anyone who doesn’t forgive me after a prolonged period of time and instead attempts to make me feel worthless doesn’t deserve a second thought. Luckily, I’ve had positive school experiences ever since, but when necessary, I am capable of being my own self-advocate. If people don’t return my kindness, it is their problem, not mine.