Having cultural groups on campus is vital to a thriving campus. Students need communities that represent and celebrate their culture. When my friends and I walked into the room, the beautiful ofrenda in the front caught my attention. Students stood near, placing photos and memorabilia on the table of loved ones who have passed, surrounded by bright orange flowers. Across the room, snacks and art supplies were set out for students to enjoy. After a brief introduction by the HCC president, a showing of Pixar’s Coco was put on. As the movie played, students enjoyed their snacks while panting and socializing. I forgot how much I enjoyed Coco, and the nostalgic music and scenes. Behind the sound of Mexican guitar music, I could hear students speaking and joking in Spanish. I noticed how relaxed the students seemed. In the midst of busy college life, room 181 in the DLB had become a cultural haven. The Mariachi blended with the Spanish conversations in the background and I found myself sliding into a peaceful state. It had been a long time since I had watched Coco and it was comforting to rewatch the rich cultural scenes while spending time with friends.
The global community is made up of many players. States, nations, cultures, ethnicities, and civil societies, just to name a few. But what exactly is a civil society? Well, when trying to wrap our minds around how each corner of the world affects the other, it can get pretty confusing. After all, the world is very big. Civil societies are voluntary groups of people independent of the government that work for the public good. Civil societies can span across oceans or centralize in one city. Big or small, civil societies make huge impacts on people and governments. Some of the most notable civil societies include the American Red Cross, Doctors Without Borders, and Habitat for Humanity. But civil societies don’t only exist within the global and well-established groups listed previously. Churches, grassroots movements, and Parent-Teacher Associations (PTA’s) are also considered civil society. Although separate from the government, civil societies can have huge impacts on elected officials and governments. This makes civil societies very powerful, demonstrating what can be achieved when ordinary people come together for a common cause.
Take the Black Lives Matter movement, for example. The death of George Floyd in 2020 sparked national outrage when Floyd was choked to death by a police officer. Floyd’s death led to protests all over the United States and elected officials began to speak out against the injustice. Those behind the movement brought their outrage to the steps of Capitol Hill, pressuring officials into making statements regarding Floy’d death and the deeper issues that this event revealed about the racial injustices that exist in the United States. On the global scale, ActionAid, a leading Non-Government Organization (NGO) works on “building a just, equitable, and sustainable world in solidarity with communities on the frontlines of poverty and injustice” (https://www.actionaidusa.org/). ActionAid reaches more than forty million countries and actively works to bridge the gap between locals and grassroots movements and their governments. Through the help of allies, ActionAid uses reforms to fight against economic injustices, supports women’s rights movements, protest climate injustices, and sends aid in humanitarian emergencies.
International Government Organizations (IGOs), Non-Government Organizations (NGOs), and Transnational Advocacy Networks (TANs), are strong civil society actors whose separation from the government is a fundamental part of their work. Civil societies give everyday people like us great power to make a difference in our world and fight for what matters to us. As college students, there are countless ways to get involved in civil societies, from the OU Food Bank to staying up to date with Garden of Knowledge, an organization that supports education in Ghana, civil societies strengthen our global community and are incredibly important to building a better future for all.
On October 20th, I had the privilege of attending a film screening with OU’s Latin American Sustainability Initiative. The film was Karuara, People of the River, a nine-year project highlighting the Kukama people of the Peruvian Amazon and their resilience in a changing landscape. It centered on the birthing of a young child by a local mother, intimately symbolizing the pertinence of the preservation of a traditional culture with the ideal of stewardship at its core. And largely, it brought to light the incredible role of a group of indigenous women doing work to keep the blood flowing to the lung of the planet, the Amazon rainforest.
A quote that stood out from one of the featured women: “Existimos y resistimos y por eso estamos aquí.” We exist and we resist and that’s why we’re here. These people, the Kukama, have a nearly primordial connection to the waters. They settled the banks of the major headwaters and tributaries of the Marañón basin in Peru hundreds of years ago. It is a spiritual entity to them, one that they respect and regard as higher than themselves. They need to take care of the river for it to provide to them. They fish for sustenance, and in one scene of the film, a member of the Kukama community discusses the necessity for a ritual to ask the river’s permission before fishing it. So of course the companies and governments polluting the Amazon River and its counterparts without care for the ecosystem are effectively working directly against the people who rely on it.
But the Kukama would not just sit back and let their rivers and way of life come to be destroyed–they’re fighters. And in an interesting clash between modern systems of economics and governance with traditional indigenous values, the women of the rainforest gathered to make this issue a legal one, led by the activist Mari Luz Canaquiri. River personhood is a growing movement in which communities with great care for their waters obtain a legal status and rights for those waters. When given the same legal rights as a person, a river can be defended in court as a victim to careless and intentional polluters. It becomes easier for a corporation to be held accountable for their crimes against the ecosystem. This has a special significance to the Kukama, whose beliefs include one that there exists a community just like their own under the river, where little people live and work under the flowing current. This belief clearly demonstrates a product of religion that contrasts sharply with a system sustained by an expansive set of unhealthy relationships–between a developing society and their environment, and between those exploited and their exploiters. Because the whole of society will not simply respect the needs of the Kukama (and won’t learn from their wise teachings on sustainability and the importance of a strong connection to the ecosystem), they are forced to work from within the system to obtain protections that never should’ve not existed.
And it was the women of the community who stepped up, and the women who are featured at the center of a movement to preserve the culture through their roles as mothers. This contrasts with the patriarchy that dominates so many “developed” societies and reemphasizes our need as a world to listen to those indigenous women that we have a lot to learn from. Another lesson to be pulled from Karuara is on language. That title, Karuara, is a Kukama word for “people of the river.” There is no one word in English or Spanish that encapsulates what that means. What that means to the community, spiritually, and their responsibility–they are “of the river,” so they must live with it. And living with it means that when it is under threat, they protect it. It is not exactly known how many people speak the language–likely around 250–but modern ways and encroaching urges towards development say to abandon it. If abandoned, without the words to express it, the relationship between the people and their rivers would float away under a layer of plastics, contaminated by chemical spillage and the products of mining, logging, unsustainable agriculture, and irresponsible production. The language must be passed down to preserve a culture with strong values of stewardship so that we do not forget to give back to the land that we take from.
Not every traditional belief must be amplified and followed, but all must be respected. We all don’t need to blow tobacco smoke on the heads of our babies, but we should not let a legal system oppress such practices. There is a moral argument and a tension here. Religious values and beliefs and modern science. One should not take precedent over the other, but they must be equally considered. Science and modernism should not erase traditional beliefs but should work in conjunction with them. Human knowledge has been building, and we know more now that we ever have. But those old ways remain critical to preserve in order to understand how we got to where we are–how we can fix our mistakes, and keep strong the relationships that are worth conserving.
One cannot understate the importance of understanding cultures to the environmental movement. There are people who knew long before modern science what we needed to do to live sustainable lives. It’s all about relationships–how you treat the river is how it will behave. And that links back to that theme of maternalism present in the film, and that theme of teaching the young right links to the importance of preserving and passing down those traditional beliefs. The connections are nuanced and important, the interdisciplinarity expansive. Environmentalism and social justice are one and of the same. For environmentalism to prosper, feminism and the rights of the indigenous must rise. And vice versa. Communities must unite under the boot of the global issues that we face, and be led by, listen and learn from, the voices that have been long oppressed.
In my history class, we had a short photography unit. In the unit, we explored how complicated the relationship between a photograph and a historian can be, especially since it’s often the only link to a specific time period or event.
Our professor challenged us to find photographs for a presentation where either they were debated to be a hoax/staged—even if initial reception was positive—or a photo that sparked backlash for other reasons.
My peers presented a myriad of different photos. From the infamous Loch Ness Monster photo taken in 1934 that is now known to be doctored to the heart-wrenching photo Napalm Girl taken during the Vietnam War, with people now debating who actually took the photo. I learned a lot more about photos I had encountered thanks to my peers.
I chose the photo Tank Man for my presentation. I had struggled trying to pick a photo, and then as I was scrolling through lists of controversial and impactful photos, Tank Man popped up, and I knew it would be the perfect photo to write about.
On June 5th, 1989, Jeff Widener took a photo that would forever be known as Tank Man. In April of 1989, pro-democracy protests erupted in China that were started by university students to speak out against the Chinese Communist Party. They were peaceful, and it wasn’t until June 3-4th that the government began to crack down on the protestors in Tiananmen Square. The government rolled in heavy tanks and told troops to open fire on protestors. The violence and hostility were not only directed toward the protestors but journalists and photographers as well. Jeff Widener, a photojournalist with the AP, had to smuggle his camera equipment past hotel security. Thankfully, an American guest staying at the hotel helped him do so. Unfortunately, he did sustain injuries; before getting to the hotel, he was struck in the head with a rock. Still, he was able to capture a photograph that would become one of the most infamous images of the massacre. It would be known as Tank Man, which depicts a man in a stark white button-up standing in front of a line of tanks. There’s even video of the man that provides further context, where he can be seen getting onto the tank and having a conversation with the soldier operating the vehicle. Later, “tankman” can be seen getting dragged away by bystanders. No one knows who he was or what happened to him.
Widener had captured the image from the hotel room, and it was not an easy task for Widener to get the photo out of the country. He, along with other photographers, had to smuggle photos out of the country as China had begun cracking down on foreign press and their coverage. The impact of Tank Man was immediate. People saw the bravery and defiance acted out by “tankman” and were in awe of him. Yet, there were some who did not fall into that infatuation. A Japanese journalist named Kato Harunobu, working with NHK, thought the event was staged; he believed that many details didn’t add up. One thing he mentioned was that he felt “tankman’s” bright white shirt was reminiscent of what military personnel wore, so he could have been a soldier with the military made to look like a civilian. Another thing Kato mentioned was how convenient it was that the incident occurred near the hotel where foreign news journalists and photographers were stationed. Kato also noted how the military had been brazenly killing protestors for days at that point.
Journalists didn’t just think the event was fake, but now young Chinese citizens do too. The Chinese government has strict censorship rules, and it has gotten rid of most of the information regarding the Tiananmen Square Massacre, known as “The Great Forgetting.” For example, books in China don’t even mention the massacre. Another thing the government got rid of is the photo itself, so most of the younger generation have never seen the photo before, with many of them saying things such as, “Is it from South Korea?” It’s difficult to imagine that such an impactful and violent event could be erased in the blink of an eye, but unfortunately, through the government’s power, it was.
I was more than glad to research and talk about Tank Man. I first saw the photo in my sophomore year during my World History class, and I was immediately in awe of the bravery of the nameless man; I was even more shocked when my teacher showed us the actual video of “tankman.” Despite what may have happened to him, he remains immortalized and celebrated in many places around the world.
On September 15 I had the pleasure of attending the Hispanic Heritage Month kick off hosted by OU’s HASA. I listened to many talented speakers, learned how to salsa dance, and ate delicious food from the Hispanic culture! Tequeños, a stick of white cheese wrapped in fried pastry dough, are a party snack common from Venezuela and Colombia. They were one of my favorite dishes from the night. Also from those countries were the delicious chicken empanadas that were so savory for a main course. Also very popular for a snack across Hispanic countries was the fried plantains, a snack I had never tried before but grew very fond of. Then for a sweet treat, I tried Duavalín. This creamy, Mexican pudding dip had all of the Neapolitan flavors and perfectly fit in the palm of my hand. I love eating Mexican food and yet I tried so many new items during this celebration. I was so happy to try foods that encompass the culture and hospitality of the Hispanic countries. The guest speaker Mr. Juan Renteria Jr. from Jeannie Rainbolt college of education within OU. As a first generation college student, he spoke on his commitment to assisting the growth of students like himself who are first generation students. His dedication to the program and his charismatic personality showed throughout his short speech and touched the hearts of all of those in the crowd. He noted the 28% of first generation students entering the University of Oklahoma this year and how proud he is to help make higher education a possibility at achieving a higher education. His passion didn’t go unnoticed and continues to be praised with his many accolades as a teacher and community member in Norman. I had such a great night learning from other Hispanic students and staff members about their culture and enjoying the amazing event that HASA put on!
In my blog posts I would like to document my experience through my art. I believe art, in whatever from, is extremely valuable in creating a deeper connection and understanding to all things or feelings. As I explore different geography, interactions, apparel, feeling, rituals and the many other aspects of culture I will create art pieces to represent my interpretation and understanding of them. Along with my creation I would like to post a description of what I wanted to portray, and important things I learned in my experiences.
To start this first post I have a painting I did last year as a gift for my mom. She went on an amazing trip to India, exploring many different cities and temples. The pictures and her stories of her travel inspired me (and made me really want to visit!). She asked me to do a painting of a particular landmark in Rishikesh called Parmarth Niketan, and I said yes immediately. She gave me a photo she took for reference and this is what I made:
My mom wanted a focus on the arch and this particular women from the picture included. While I don’t quite know the reason, to me the women was a good representation of the sort of peacefulness among the crowd. She wears a beautiful sari and headdress, representative of her culture and the beauty of how unique apparel can be. The arch is the main attraction of the painting, from my reading it serves as in entrance into Parmarth Niketan a place for calmness and meditation. It offers ritual practices in groups, meditations, prayers, teachings, and even spa/healing type treatments. I really enjoyed creating this piece and learning more about its meaning. I hope I can visit in person someday and create more art from my perspective.
During my free time, I like to do a lot of different things, and one of the things I love doing is watching films of all kinds, including foreign films. One of the foreign films I learned about was the movie Tokyo Story crafted by legendary director Yasujirō Ozu, which is not only hailed as one of the best Japanese movies ever made but also one of the best movies ever made. In 2012, “Sights and Sound’s Greatest Films of All Time” ranked it as one of the best non-English films ever made.
The viewer follows an elderly couple named Shukishi and Tomi Hirayama, played by actors Chishu Ryu and Chieko Higashiyama respectively, who visit Tokyo for the first time, where their two older children live, as well as their widowed daughter-in-law. Instead of a wholesome family reunion, the viewer watches Shukishi and Tomi are treated like nuisances by their son and daughter. Their son, named Koichi, played by Sô Yamamura, devotes his time to his work as a local doctor and doesn’t try to make time for his parents. In a short but illuminating scene, his preteen son complains to his mom that his dad never makes time for his family, and it seems he doesn’t even make an exception for his elderly parents who he hasn’t seen in years. Koichi then passes them on to his sister Shige, played by Haruko Sugimura, who runs a salon with her husband; she’s even more biting toward their parents. In a scene where her husband brings back cakes for her parents, Shige remarks, “They don’t need such expensive cakes” and eats them herself. Not even their own grandchildren seem particularly interested in them—in an earlier scene Koichi’s youngest son silently walks with his grandmother even as she tries to make conversation. It is only in their daughter-in-law Noriko, played by Setsuko Hara, that they find any warmth. She gladly welcomes them into her tiny apartment and even takes time off work to spend time with them. There’s no incentive for her to take care of them so warmly, considering her husband, their son, died in the war. Of course, she can’t take care of them forever, and Koichi and Shige pool together money to send them to a fancy resort, except the resort makes Shukishi and Tomi realize that the world that once welcomed them with open arms has now moved on to the youth.
They return back to Shige’s beauty salon, where she questions why they came back, but she doesn’t have to be annoyed for long because they decide to take the train to head back home. Heartbreakingly, on the trip back, the mother dies, and it is in her death where their children’s selfishness is further confirmed. Shige crassly asks for her mother’s old kimonos, and their son promptly leaves to go back home after the funeral. Noriko is once again the only one of the three who shows care and tenderness; even the elderly couple’s youngest daughter notices this and says, “They’re selfish. Demanding things and leaving like this” and “Even strangers would have been more considerate!” The story ends with the viewer somberly knowing that her death changed nothing about the relationship between children and parent.
Tokyo Story isn’t a particularly action-packed story, nor is its cinematography very dynamic. Ozu’s approach to filmmaking was very bare-bones and simple compared to others, so much so that often there’s only one person in frame, and they’ll look straight into the camera. There are also often static compositions with only the landscape or a shop front, as the camera seldom tracks. However, that bare-bones and simple approach lets the story flourish. You’re able to peer into the souls of the characters, and it makes the film move beyond a simple melodrama and into something much more meaningful. The movie also came out in 1953, so the post-World War II ambience permeates the movie even though it’s never fully talked about. It is also in the actors where the brilliance of the movie shines, as it feels like you’re watching a real-life family. Many of the actors can be found in Ozu’s films with similar themes and ambiences, such as Tokyo Twilight, where Hara and Ryu make similar appearances. But beyond just stilted family dynamics beautifully portrayed, the movie is also about change and what it means to live through change. As I mentioned earlier, Shukishi and Tomi feel uncomfortable at the resort because of the air of youth. They are trying to navigate the new world of Tokyo that has rebuilt itself from the ashes of WWII. It can be difficult to watch the world change in ways you didn’t expect, especially when you feel like you’re being left behind. For older members of society, the easiest and best way to experience change is through their progeny, but when your progeny treats you coldly and you never see them, you’ve lost that mode of transportation into the modern world, and that’s exactly what happens to the elderly couple. It’s a timeless story that’s able to elicit strong emotions from you. More than anything, this movie reminds us to take care of our parents and cherish the time we have with them because time creeps up on us all.
Last night, I attended the OU Latin Dance Club’s Noche de Baile. This event showcased different forms of Latin dance and song. This event also marked the end of Hispanic Heritage Month and provided a vibrant cultural celebration. We started by learning some of the basics of both salsa and bachata. I have seen these dance styles in performances before, but I had never tried them myself. Both dances involve rhythmic and intricate footwork. Salsa was more difficult to learn, while bachata was easier. We practiced on our own first, then we moved to dancing with a partner. In partner dances, there is one follow and one lead, and we got the chance to be both. It was definitely a bit tricky at first, but I was able to catch on. Overall, it was exciting to try something new and learn some dance moves! The night ended with some performances by the Peruvian Student Association and belly dancers. This event served to end Hispanic Heritage Month, but it was also a night of collective community and culture. I truly enjoyed this event, and I look forward to attending more!
On September 25, I got the chance to view the restored version of the 1985 Iranian film Bashu, the Little Stranger with the Department of Iranian Studies here at OU. The film was originally created in that year but was banned from release by the Iranian regime until 1989, when it finally came out. This ban has to do with a long history of discrimination against women in Iran: women’s roles have been engrained into the Constitution with one major caveat that determines everything, the phrase “in conformity with Islamic criteria.” Gender restrictions are therefore insanely harsh, with those in charge getting to base their laws off of any personal interpretation of the text–any interpretation that best benefits them. The same founding document sets rules that restrict women’s powers and rights whilst naming men the heads of the households. Under articles of the Civil Code, “a son inherits twice the share of a daughter,” a man is the only one who can make the decision to divorce, and marriage is permitted to a girl even younger than 13 years old. The only permission required is from her guardian and the court, which is restricted to men only.
The reasons for the banning of the film from release under Khomeini’s power in the late 1980s were the relatively progressive and aggressively real portrayals of gender shown by writer and director Bahram Beyzaie. The lead character, Naii, is a woman living in rural Iran while her husband is away fighting in the Iran-Iraq war. She shows strength and independence beyond that of any man in the film, turning over the rigid gender roles in the country at the time. Much of the media in this era was state-controlled, keeping the citizens heavily indoctrinated and influenced by the government’s interpretation of traditional Islamic beliefs. Beyzaie’s character of Naii went against many of those.
She took in the runaway Bashu after he was displaced from his home by heavy bombing, ending up in a place where he didn’t speak the language and everyone had lighter skin than him. Naii, already struggling to keep herself and her children afloat, went through adversity and challenge to take the boy in. Through this, she showed bravery, a strong set of morals, and a sense of righteousness. There are a few moments in particular in the film that highlight this. After she first began taking care of Bashu, she had many neighbors and relatives over for tea, a group of many older men and a few women. All of them attempted to convince her to leave the boy on his own, displaying racial prejudice and making a point of the difficult situation she was already in. After much ridicule, Naii couldn’t take it anymore and kicked all of them out of the home. “If I ever come back to you asking for help,” she said, “you can spit in my hand.” She was alone and she was the leader of the household as she faced pushback from the community, all while doing the only right thing to do. She didn’t need her elders or any men controlling her–and that was the strong independence that the Iranian regime was afraid of. This was a realistic portrayal of the spirit of Iranian women. Iranian women, more so than the men, had endurance, intelligence, and righteousness. But this idea, when spread throughout the country, would undermine the patriarchal structure set up by power-hungry men and undermine the egos of those born into an unearned dominant half.
The group was once again together later in the film when Bashu had run from the hatefulness of the crowd and fallen into the nearby river, sinking under the lazy and uncaring eyes of a dozen men. Naii was the only one to take action, throwing a net over the boy and tugging him in. Of course, once she had thrown the net, the hands of men greedy to be deemed a hero attempted to grasp at the end of it from behind her to rope the boy in. But Naii did it herself. She didn’t need the help of those who evidently would have been satisfied to let Bashu drown. Again, the ego of the men in power couldn’t handle this type of symbolism being broadcast to theaters around the country. Such a scene would let women know that they could do it all themselves–but they didn’t need to be told this. They already knew. While it was likely the intention of the government to restrict this film because it “showed women they could be strong,” that is not what really was happening. Iranian women already were strong–had to be strong and demonstrate incredible resiliency in the face of such oppression. But rather what was happening was the men of the state demonstrating their weaknesses, and their fears in perhaps knowing deep down (or knowing that history would know) that they hadn’t fully earned their power, but stepped up to thrones with their shoes on women’s backs.
When Naii’s husband got home, he was missing an arm. He couldn’t run the farm or do much of anything to contribute to the family’s wellbeing. Naii became the leader of the household, undermining the unreasonable discriminatory structuring that was a cornerstone of the traditional Islamic ruling.
Unfortunately, while it has been held victim to continued violence and change since its founding, Iran has not progressed much in the sphere of women’s rights. This year, Leila Abolhasani was executed for simply filming the protests that had occurred in January. She was 43 years old, and a mother of two. Very similar to Naii in Bashu, the Little Stranger. Women in the state have continued to protest for their rights, showing extreme strength as over 259 women have been killed this year for doing exactly that. They must still follow harsh dress codes and wear hijabs in public–or face the potential threat of being beaten to death by plainclothes officers for solely existing. For just doing the same thing that men do every day without giving it a single thought. Strong gender bias persists in every element of Iranian life, and the current war with the United States and Israel is doing a number to slow any progression and give the government an excuse to continue to discriminate against and kill women. There was a good amount of hope for a while, but the government now faces so many problems that women’s rights have been placed among the least of their worries, while they should remain a top priority. And the women continue to protest. Per the UN Gender Snapshot, released on September 17th, the world is still 171 years away from gender equality. That is a harrowing number. There is no reason for that to ever be as large as it is–no reason for that number to even have to exist. We need to set aside our conflicts, issues, and opinions and put this issue on the front burner. There is no situational excuse and no religious excuse for gender inequality. The people have known this forever. There is a film about it. From Iran in 1985! We are well overdue and it’s time we get to work. Men must be willing to sacrifice the things that they have not ever truly earned.
Reflecting on my involvement in the President’s Leadership Class and my active participation in Asian American Student Association events at OU.
Hosted by: None.
During my time at the University of Oklahoma, one of the most meaningful parts of my college experience has been getting involved on campus. I have learned that college is not only about going to class and completing assignments, but also about finding communities that help you grow as a person. For me, two important spaces have been OU PLC and the Asian American Student Association, also known as AASA.
I have been heavily involved in OU PLC, and it has become one of the biggest parts of my college journey. Being part of PLC has helped me meet many motivated students, build connections with professors and campus leaders, and learn more about what leadership looks like in real life. Before college, I thought leadership mostly meant being in charge or having a title. But through PLC, I have learned that leadership is also about listening, showing up, supporting others, and being willing to grow.
One thing I really appreciate about PLC is the community. The students around me are all working toward their own goals, but at the same time, there is a shared feeling of encouragement. Being around people who care about learning, service, and leadership has pushed me to become more active and confident. It has also helped me understand that everyone has a different leadership style. Some people are very outgoing, while others lead quietly by being dependable and thoughtful. I think I am still learning what kind of leader I want to be, but PLC has given me a good space to figure that out.
Along with PLC, I have also been actively participating in AASA events. Even though I am not officially a member myself, I still try to attend their events and be part of the community whenever I can. AASA has been a meaningful space for me because it celebrates Asian American culture, identity, and community. Going to their events has helped me feel more connected to Asian American students at OU and has given me the chance to learn more about different cultural traditions.
One thing I like about AASA is how welcoming the events feel. Whether it is a cultural celebration, a student gathering, or a community event, I always feel like there is a strong sense of belonging. I have attended events such as Lunar New Year celebrations and other cultural activities, and each time I learn something new. These events remind me that culture is not only something we study or talk about, but something we experience through food, music, performances, conversations, and friendships.
My involvement with OU PLC and my participation in AASA events have helped me feel more connected to the University of Oklahoma. I have met new people, learned more about leadership, explored culture, and gained a stronger sense of belonging. These experiences have reminded me that college is a time to grow not only academically, but also socially and personally. I am thankful for the opportunities I have had so far, and I hope to continue being involved and learning from the communities around me.
