It’s just a ceremony, I tell myself. I repeat it over and over in my head until I can’t attempt to think another thought. Belittling the meaning of my college graduation seemed to be the best way to deal with the loss from the perspective of my gut. However, I know my gut is wrong and I need to just let myself feel the hurt, anger, and sadness. Repressing these feelings won’t make them go away and they won’t make me happier.

From a young age, the importance of going to college was always made known to me. My parents work in education, yes, but there is a larger reason. My parents, (as well as myself) grew up in Gary, Indiana. You may or may not have heard about it but it isn’t typically presented as the most savory place to live. My parents were college educated, but circumstances led to them having to come back. There is nothing wrong and no shame in that either—I was just always told that I could (and should) look for something more for myself. Almost every parent wants their child to end up better off than they are.

So, I worked my a– off. I worked hard in school because I knew it was my ticket out. By middle school, I already knew the kind of life I wanted to live—it wasn’t achievable without hard work—but I also began to see some of the injustices and inequities in our society that were going to stand in my way. A fear grew that I wouldn’t be able to get where I wanted or needed to be without pushing myself further—this meant finding a new school to attend for high school. How was my family going to afford a private school, let alone a boarding school? When I found Culver I told my mom they had a full-ride scholarship. I told her I would find a way to make it work. I was determined.

Eventually, I did just that. While it wasn’t in the initial timing I wanted it was still incredible. I did spend a year at my public high school, but it was still just as invaluable. The time I had with my friends there was precious still and the memories I made and things I learned were not achievable at Culver. It feels like I had a good balance. When I got to Culver, things really did start to change rapidly though. I had opportunities to travel, I was pushed academically, and I was growing up at an exponential rate. I finally felt like I was truly on a trajectory to reach my goals. It felt like those roadblocks and inequities had been removed for myself (which to this day still leaves me with a lot of guilt, but that’s a different reflection/essay).

My graduation from Culver was emotional, as it was for nearly my entire class, but it really felt like something greater to me. For me to be there, it meant someone had sacrificed and invested hundreds of thousands of dollars into me because they believed I was worth it. During my time there I worked hard and was set up with a life-changing gap year program and was on-course to attend WashU starting in the autumn of 2016. Life was starting to become a lot more real.

WashU, like Culver, was another space I had to learn to occupy because I was not quite the majority—despite being able to go with the motions a bit smoother. Never did I think I would actually be able to attend a top-notch private university. I mean look at my starting line: a kid from Gary, Indiana. I have my gripes with WashU as many know, but I still could never thank the school enough for making it possible for me to attend, —it took some begging. With all the hard work I’ve put into this degree to now have graduation ripped from my hands hurts so much more than I can put into words.

Walking across that stage at graduation was all I wanted. For my dad, who couldn’t pay for his cap and gown. Who didn’t get to walk at his own college graduation as a first generation college student. For my mom, who walked across the stage pregnant with me. Who wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to make a good life for the baby she was bringing into the world. For all the sacrifices they made for me along the way just to be here. The things they gave up—including me living in their own home—just so I could have a better shot at achieving my goals and dreams as well as living the life I worked hard to deserve. This graduation wasn’t just for me. It was symbolic of so much more.

And I’m not the only one in this position. I know that for a fact. My story is one of many across this campus, country, and I’m sure world. I understand the gravity of the situation at hand. I understand we are amidst a pandemic. But, I also ask that you understand and listen to our stories and our cries. We’ve already had our spring semesters cut short—and some of us didn’t even get to say goodbye to ones we love and care about. Now, we have this burden to bear as well. It is a time of mourning and grief.

I know at the end of the day I will be ok, but this is going to take time.