In my youth, I found solace in communities of my peers who shared portions of my identity; from speaking the same second languages to sharing similar tastes, I was quick to bond with those I was similar to.
When I moved to Oregon, I found myself miles away from these connections. My fragmented identity found little to attach to my peers. Inkling connections uprooted as I attended three different middle schools throughout my years. “Community” felt like a bubble I was floating upon, inherently a part of yet never fully immersed.
At the end of math class towards the middle of eighth grade, I felt a tap on my shoulder. A tall girl with glasses and a tooth gap stood behind.
“Do you want to sit with us at lunch today?”
Stemming from this small invitation, I found myself part of a community of peers with whom I never thought I could relate. Our interests diverged and collided in all regards; we were of different gender identities, sexual orientations, and ethnic backgrounds. While I was the only person of color in our friend group, I cherished the different experiences we brought to the table. I recounted my struggles accepting my culture while I heard the stories of my friends who were dealing with gender dysphoria.
In the following years, I wholeheartedly applied this multifaceted outlook to my sense of community. I engaged with peers both different and similar to me; I found community at Indian festivals with my fellow South Asian peers and community with my closest friends with whom I can form strong emotional connections, despite our dissimilar backgrounds.
This ever-growing sense of community has helped me thrive and will better help me engage within the student body at the University of Washington