Unity
-June Lee
I step onto the edge of the blue mat. With a quick, measured breath, I shout "taekwon!" and stride up to the wooden board holder. The referees, bearing staffs adorned with red and blue flags, stand at the center of the mat, staring stiffly ahead. From above, I can feel a hundred pairs of eyes observing my approach. Watching but not seeing, they chatter with members of their own country, each group speaking in its own tongue, struggling to drown out their neighbors in a constant battle to be heard. For a moment, I allow the noise of the crowd to fade into a subdued buzzing in the back of my mind. My breathing slows as I focus on the wooden board in front of me. Every muscle in my body is tense with anticipation. Slowly, deliberately, I take a step backwards. For a lightning instant, the pressure of a thousand shouting voices in the audience pushes against me, and I freeze. But with a sudden burst of adrenaline, I regain control of my body, and explode toward the target. “Snap!” the sharp snap of the board is followed by a dizzying roar, as onlookers cheer and stamp their feet in appreciation. In that instant, I see and hear not groups of spectators in the crowd, but a single community, standing and clapping together, united in the exhilaration of the moment. The discordant clashes of conversations in various foreign languages melt away, replaced by the unanimous tongue of the world community. As I gaze over the crowd, for a second, I am a part of this united nations, in which no language or cultural barriers can dent our shared heritage.
By the time I return dazedly to my coaches, individual conversations have re-started, and the arena is again filled with the noise of hundreds of clashing voices. Yet small signs of our moment of unity remain. As I pass through the crowd, one or two of the waiting athletes meet my gaze, and they smile and nod encouragingly. When I look up at the spectator bleachers, a young boy from New Zealand cheerily waves his flag at me. At the end of the evening, one of the competitors in my division, from Ireland, comes up to me and hands me a miniature golden pin, with a carving of the Irish and American flags crossed and waving together. Receiving the small token, I am overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude and love. This marked the end of the 2013 Taekwondo World Championships in Benidorm, Spain.
Two years have past, and the details of this day have already begun to fade from my memory, as has my recollection of the trip. But I know I will never forget the sensation of that uplifting moment when the board shattered, and every heart in the arena momentarily beat as one. As I write this, I glance at the two miniature flags still sitting on my desk, and feel a deep thrill. If I close my eyes and listen hard enough, I can still hear the echoing cheers in the tournament arena, shouting in a language shared by the people of the united nations.
