We See Ourselves in Serena’s Story
Last night, Serena Williams bid farewell to the sport that she loves and to a sport in which many are calling her the greatest of all time (G.O.A.T.) In her tear-filled speech, she said that “But it all started with my parents and they deserve everything, so I am really grateful for them…” What I found remarkable, other than the historic moment I was watching of course, was just how familiar her gratitude and appreciation for her parents were to my feelings towards my parents. The respect, the adoration, the love and the understanding for the very people that cleared the path to make success achievable and dreams attainable are deeply rooted in the immigrant experience.
Earlier in the day on a plane ride from Portugal, I watched King Richard - the Academy-Award winning movie about the father who dreamed big, who surmounted all odds and created two world-class tennis champions from the street courts of Compton. It was Richard Williams who told his daughters that they would one day rule women’s tennis. He penned a 78-page manifesto or “plan” to turn his daughters into tennis champions. He not only did that, but also anticipated that while Venus would become a champion in her own right, that Serena would have the determination and the skills to be the greatest tennis champion of all time. Quietly in the background, their mother, Oracene Price, also played a heavy hand in their success- she is credited for fixing Serena’s serve toss and for providing the reassurance, support and security to the Williams’ sisters throughout this time.
What Serena displayed in her speech after her last professional match of her career is a sentiment that many of us children of immigrants feel too. Many of our parents sacrificed so much to provide the best that they could for their children- for many, it meant that they gave up on their own dreams to secure the futures of their children. Growing up in the American society where the individual is held in such high esteem, the values of deep sacrifice, commitment, dedication and compromise towards the family and the community are profoundly immigrant values.
Many of us first-generation Americans have parents who have heart-wrenching stories of pain and suffering, of leaving loved ones and places behind, and of starting anew in a foreign, often hostile, land. My parents’ stories are no less than this and are spoken about with my children with deep reverence and awe. While I’ll save their stories for another time, as I watched King Richard yesterday and Serena’s speech last night, my heart swelled with gratitude towards my parents. In an ironic twist, my father came to the United States in the 1970s with a dream to teach his children tennis (his great grandfather was a tennis champion in India). While I was no Serena, I did go on to play varsity tennis in college and high school because of my parents’ investment and commitment in me. The point, however, is that my parents’ sacrifices taught me so much more than success on the tennis court: to dream big and to believe in myself. In Serena’s acknowledgement of her parents, my parents and so many immigrant parents not only deserve their children’s successes, but “deserve everything” too.