First draft with minor revisions:

My mother has never tried to shield me from the horrors of being a woman in a country like India. Certainly there are common horrors that do not discriminate between the sexes, like bone-breaking poverty and widespread corruption, but certain horrors are reserved explicitly for the second sex. Every time my mother told me a new story of a gruesome rape or an abortion gone wrong, I clamped my hands over my ears and told her to stop; I knew these things happened but I didn't want to hear about them in detail. She never stopped telling me, however. I realized later that the anger and sorrow these stories instilled in me gave me a reason to fight.
The summer before I entered XXXX, my best friend and I went to Calcutta, India for an internship at my mother’s non-profit organization, Promise World Wide. The organization provides schooling, meals, and health benefits for the children of prostitutes whose status as undesirables marks them with a stigma that can only be erased through education. While interviewing the mothers and the children and creating a short art film about the experience, I learned that the illegal practice of demanding dowries for marriage is alive and well and many of the women work grueling hours just to make enough money to marry their daughters off some day. While accompanying my mother to meetings about zoning restrictions for the establishment of a new school, I learned that local pimps and their gangs of violent henchmen control developments of entire neighborhoods. I also learned that a journalist was recently murdered for trying to expose the seedy underbelly of women’s hospitals. Apparently the rule of law does not exist within great chunks of India where it is needed most.
India’s feminist movement has mostly addressed the needs of upper-class, educated women. Lower class women have been largely, if not completely, ignored and cannot hope for recourse without significant changes to the legal system. With the exceptional legal education that XXX can provide me, I hope to contribute to the effort to offer these women the right to legal justice. My fluency in Bengali and intimate knowledge of Bengali culture give me a specific edge that will prove immensely beneficial. Throughout college I have tried to squeeze out every drop of education I can, often signing up for the maximum number of units possible and taking multiple courses every summer. On top of regularly participating in Bengali cultural programs singing Rabindrasangeet, I have been a constant member of the art and writing community of San Diego and have taken part in various art shows and poetry readings, some of which I have helped to organize. I plan to complete two theses in my senior year, one being a feminist anthology of poetry and the other an examination of the American media response to the 1971 atrocities in Bangladesh.
Having lived in Calcutta for the first six years of my life has made me acutely aware of my privileged birth. If I were born two houses down the road, in all probability I would never have touched a guitar or tasted sausages. But if I weren’t born in India at all I would have never played a harmonium or tasted those tiny, sweet bananas the size of my thumb. Nor would I have seen well-educated women be judged solely on the fairness of their skin or the bruised eyes of a woman whose hard-earned pay gets swilled down with cheap whiskey. Bleeding heart aside, I do not suppose that I can single-handedly change these pervasive circumstances, but only hope to bolster the crumbling legal system that India reluctantly provides its underclass citizens. Having a top-notch education from a country with endless resources can only help me on this undertaking.

Hmmm okay this reads kind of like a fellowship or scholarship app, not necessarily a professional program. Clearly you've had incredible experiences, but you need more directionality; your essay reads too all over the place atm. Do that first, and then try to spin your essay better than just "I've see atrocities and I want to help" (which is very cliche), and it should improve. Also, I believe it's Kolkata now; post-colonial rejection of British nomenclature or something. Good luck!

ugh yeah, I just hate calling it Kolkata, it makes me feel like I have Indian tourettes. Thanks for your advice, will definitely keep it in mind moving forward.

This is a lot about India and your mom and not a lot about you.

My mother has never tried to shield me from the horrors of being a woman in a country like India. There are certainly horrors common to both sexes Certainly there are common horrors that do not discriminate between the sexes, like bone-breaking poverty and widespread corruption, but there are specific certain horrors are reserved explicitly for females the second sex. Every time my mother told me a new story of a gruesome rape or an abortion gone wrong, I clamped my hands over my ears and told her to stop; I knew these things happened but I did not didn't want to hear about them in detail. She never stopped telling me, however. I realized later that the anger and sorrow these stories instilled[color=#408000]**pick a better word, they made you an angry and sorrowful person? Or they made you feel anger and sorrow?** [/color]in me gave me a reason to fight.

The summer before I entered XXXX, my best friend and I went to Calcutta, India for an internship at my mother’s non-profit organization, Promise World Wide. The organization provides schooling, meals, and health benefits for the children of prostitutes. These children are labeled as "undesirables" whose status as undesirables marks them marked with a stigma that can only be erased through education. While interviewing the mothers and the children and creating a short art film about the experience, I learned discovered that the illegal practice of demanding dowries for marriage is alive and well and many of the women work grueling hours just to make enough money to marry their daughters off some day **This sentence is really long and just needs to be completely changed . While accompanying my mother to meetings about zoning restrictions for the establishment of a new school, I learned that local pimps and their gangs of violent henchmen control developments of entire neighborhoods. I also learned that a journalist was recently murdered for trying to expose the seedy underbelly of women’s hospitals. It became apparent that the rule of law is unenforced where it may be needed most. Apparently the rule of law does not exist within great chunks of India where it is needed most.

**Need a transition**India’s feminist movement has mostly addressed the needs of upper-class, educated women. Lower class women have been largely, if not completely, ignored and cannot hope for lifestyle improvement?? recourse without significant changes to the legal system. With the exceptional legal education that XXX can provide me, I hope to continue my contribute to the effort to offer these women the right to legal justice. My fluency in Bengali and intimate knowledge of Bengali culture give me a specific edge that will prove immensely beneficial in this pursuit. Throughout college I have tried to squeeze out every drop of education I can, often signing up for the maximum number of units possible and taking multiple courses every summer. On top of regularly participating in Bengali cultural programs singing Rabindrasangeet, I have been a constant member of the art and writing community of San Diego and have taken part in various art shows and poetry readings, some of which I have helped to organize. I plan to complete two theses in my senior year, one being a feminist anthology of poetry and the other an examination of the American media response to the 1971 atrocities in Bangladesh. **The above information sounds a bit too much like resume reciting. They know what you have done, and what is on your transcript. Most of it doesn't really jive with your message.

Living in Having lived in Calcutta for the first six years of my life has made me acutely aware of my privileged birth. If I were born two houses down the road, in all probability I would never have touched a guitar or tasted sausages. If I was not But if I weren’t born in India at all I would have never played a harmonium or tasted those tiny, sweet bananas the size of my thumb. Nor would I would not have seen well-educated women be judged solely on the fairness of their skin, or the bruised eyes of a woman whose hard-earned pay gets wasswilled down with cheap whiskey. Bleeding heart aside, I do not suppose that I can single-handedly change these pervasive circumstances, but I only hope to bolster the crumbling legal system that India reluctantly provides its underclass citizens. Having A top-notch education from XXX, in a country with endless resources can only help me on this undertaking.


Red=take it out
Blue=my additions

**I may or may not have gotten confused with colors . . .

Take this for what it is worth, a stranger reading your PS. I just think it could be more concise and the information could be tailored to yourself a bit more.

Okay, so I took your advice and revised the old essay a couple times but it felt kind of trite. So I wrote a completely new one and made it more personal, but it's a little short. What do you think it's lacking? (names have been changed)

One day, I finished writing a poem and realized it was breathing a little bit. From then on, I knew that I couldn’t stop writing until the poems had taken on lives of their own, until they existed as tiny monsters. I found friends who felt the same way I do about writing and we put together get-togethers inside of rented living rooms and converted garages. We ate cookies and marveled at how every poem someone writes adds mass to their little city of thoughts. We tore out writing contests-entries and drew up illustrated fliers, we drank wine and thought up amazing ideas for collaborative projects right before we fell asleep. We congratulated each other on publications and made a bulletin board of successful pieces. My boyfriend (John) of four years found me a typewriter (Underwood) of fifty years for six dollars and I banged out poem after poem on it until my neighbors banged on the walls and asked could I please keep it down? I traveled by bus for an hour and a half to reach a hidden art gallery in the hipster part of town to read a poem four lines long—and felt greatly at home.
Through some happy accidents, I have ended up with a tremendously lucky life. It’s difficult to be unhappy painting a mural under the Southern California sun. And yet certain things happen that slap me in the face and shake up my whole vision for the future:
Watching John being throttled by the invisible chokehold of epilepsy while I sat around, unable to do a thing to help, seeing his blue eyes turn to black when he came to; it felt like death was slowly gathering in the corners of the room.
Watching my mother’s body and mind deteriorate through diabetes and a series of small strokes while she continued to work tirelessly for the poor; she was setting the bar for me incredibly high.
Watching TV on election night with my roommate and his boyfriend, a champagne bottle ready to pop as soon as Proposition 8 failed, and finally watching them get up and leave, as it became abundantly clear that California is not what I thought it was; so we marched for our civil rights movement and wrote a lot of letters.
Smelling the sour scent of blood as the washer-woman cleaned my grandmother’s floor in India, a piece of brick embedded lovingly in her forehead by her husband; I knew that writing poems is not enough for me.
Talking about wanting to be a lawyer with artists and writers feels like a betrayal. It’s as if the two worlds are mutually exclusive to most people. I don’t believe this at all. I feel that my interest in critically examining the world and understanding the power of words can only help me bridge the gap between men and women and every gender in between. I feel that taking part in changing how people perceive gender and sexuality will be just as beautiful as watching a little poem breathe.

What if the adcomm who reads your PS is anti-gay marriage?

I read somewhere, I think on this site, that it's generally a good idea to avoid divisive issues.

Also, you have a lot of interesting stuff to say, but it seems like the set up is sort of forcing your difficult experiences down your reader's throat one after another. Maybe pick one of those experiences that really made you want to pursue a legal education and focus in a little more? I did like the bit about mutually exclusive worlds I think you may have something there.

Hopefully others will be more helpful than I have been.

hm yeah, I had wondered about the divisive issue thing too. But that incident really was one of the things that made me want to go into gender law. Also aren't law school people generally pretty liberal?

I'd like to turn my applications early this week, so if anyone has any other feedback, I'd really REALLY appreciate it! (thanks bees!)