Does not matter what topic you will choose, what is really important: really believe that you will find your audience. The topic that you are going to choose needs to be interesting for you personally, in other case it would be really difficult to gather all facts and general information to make a good paper. You need to ask yourself: will my future work be interesting to read? Has my future essay a perspective to become a reason for discussion? Is it possible to be serious in talking about this theme but not so much serious to put to sleep this one, who will read it? If the answers are yes, you have a good chance to write an outstanding definition essay.
Imagine you move to Istanbul. Your daughter attends a Turkish school. On the first day, her classmates want to get to know her: "Tell me, had you already had sex by age 12? How many abortions have you had? Why do you Germans drink so much beer? Why do your priests rape little boys? And German politicians -- are they really all pedophiles? Hopefully your parents won't throw you out at age 16 so you can learn how to stand on your own two feet. And tell me, why do you stick your elderly in nursing homes? And why do you murder Turks because they're Turks? Tell me, what in the world is going on back home?"
The second installment of my story here concerns the first time the word “Negro” was said to me, as a direct reference to my racial origins, by someone in the science-fiction community. Understand that, since the late ’30s, that community, that world had been largely Jewish, highly liberal, and with notable exceptions leaned well to the left. Even its right-wing mavens, Robert Heinlein or Poul Anderson (or, indeed, Campbell), would have far preferred to go to a leftist party and have a friendly argument with some smart socialists than actually to hang out with the right-wing and libertarian organizations which they may well have supported in principal and, in Heinlein’s case, with donations. April 14, 1968, a year and—perhaps—three weeks later, was the evening of the next Nebula Awards Banquet. A fortnight before, I had turned twenty-six. That year my eighth novel The Einstein Intersection (which had materialized as an object on the day of the previous year’s) and my short story, “Aye, and Gomorrah . .” were both nominated.