BHS student swims open ocean, sets record

BY LEO SILVERBERG staff writer

While her classmates were in school last month, Berkeley High School sophomore Maya Merhige was in Hawaii swimming for 27 and a half hours in the open ocean. On January 19, she became the youngest person to swim 28 miles of the Moloka’i channel in Hawaii, and 90th person worldwide to swim for over

24 hours. She set the record for the longest swim of the channel.

Merhige started swimming at an early age, and by age nine, she began swimming to raise funds for pediatric cancer research through the organization Swim Across America. She has raised over $55,000 to date, which she donates to local hospitals.

“I feel like everyone’s been touched by cancer in some way,” Merhige said.

She swam in honor of her family friend Sam, who passed away from cancer last month at the age of 12.

Merhige described how Sam’s memory helped her get through the hard parts of the swim saying, “During the scary part, when I would see something or hear something … I’d always be like: ‘Sam, you can’t let me get eaten by a shark today.’ ”

Her journey from Hawaii’s Moloka’i Island to O’ahu began the night of January 18, with a rocky start.

“I got stuck in a current for the first 10 hours. So I didn’t really go anywhere,” she said. Merhige struggled to make progress with the current and the next morning, she could still see the place where she had started. On top of that, she braved the creatures of the ocean, swimming through jellyfish for three hours.

“I had just gotten stung by jellyfish and my back was cramping and I cried for two hours,” she said. “And then I was like: ‘Okay, don’t cry. It’s fine.’ And I just kept swimming.”

Merhige was not allowed to receive any support or help throughout her swim. Despite the difficulties, the swim was not as challenging for Merhige as past swims. She experienced moments of beauty and wonder throughout, highlighting a few moments where she “saw shooting stars ... and I could hear dolphins underwater.” She even witnessed a birth, describing that, “a whale had a baby 100 feet away from me.”

Merhige is back at school, adjusting to all the attention she has been receiving. Still, she’s happy that the attention has helped her raise more money for something that she cares about.

As for her next swim, Merhige plans on completing the Ocean’s Seven, which is a series of 7 open water channel swims throughout the world.

As I sat there on the carpet of my childhood bedroom floor, I had my mind set on where beauty lay — in the shiny strands of hair that would glide so easily through the bristles of her hairbrush. The Barbie doll’s hair was straight, blonde, graceful, and pretty. Everything that mine wasn’t.

Being the Black daughter of an Asian mother who had a completely different hair type than me, we struggled with dealing with my hair. Thus, I wore it in the easiest and most convenient hairstyles — two braided pigtails or a ponytail … every single day. I never wore my hair out, not only because no one else around me had the same hair as me, but also because I didn’t know how to style it and make it “presentable.” And so, everyday for the first decade of my life, I wore pigtail braids, ponytails, buns … whatever hairstyle would just bundle all the frizz away.

I wished for straight hair a lot. With straight hair, I knew that no one would ask to touch my hair as if I were a fascinating zoo animal. I wouldn’t have had to wake up an hour earlier every morning to style my hair before school. My hands and biceps wouldn’t cramp and ache as I ripped through the knots and tangles of my curls. I wouldn’t have to schedule my Sundays around washing and drying my hair. With straight hair, life would be so much easier.

But as much as I could wish and whine, the aches, pains, and sleepless nights would always be there. With curly hair comes responsibility, and with responsibility comes work. So I started working. I stood in front of my bathroom mirror for hours after school practicing and trying dozens of different hairstyles and hair routines from YouTube. As my biceps cramped up, I worked. As the tears of distress and anger slid down my cheeks, I worked. As the cries of exasperation escaped my mouth, I worked. As I continued to work, the dedication I had towards caring for my hair flourished. I finally began to respect my hair. I began loving the way my curls bounced, the way the tangles beautifully toned my biceps, the way my fingers ached as their strength grew, the way I could express my creativity through my hair as I experimented with various hairstyles … I began loving the way my hair made me work. Black hair is more than a hair texture — it is Black history, Black community, Black strength, Black creativity, and a major aspect of the Black identity. Embracing our Black hair symbolizes the love we have for our history, culture, and community. Black hair is beautiful because of its tangles, coils, curls, and frizz that bring out the uniqueness within our race that hasn’t always been welcomed, but that we have bravely fought to protect.

Black hair is difficult to care for, and as I continue to embrace my natural curls, the work definitely will not get any easier. But I’m willing to put in the work needed to care for my natural curls because my hair connects me to the ancestral roots that I share with the rest of the Black community, and that connection, that aspect of my identity, is something I’d never give up on.