The Best of All Identities

As you are probably well aware by now in your college search, the whole admissions process brings up a lot of questions and concerns you possibly never considered previously: does it matter if there are dozens of political groups and organizations on campus? What about a wide range of publications in addition to a campus newspaper? Aside from questions about the school you’ll end up attending, it also prompts a lot of reflection on yourself, your future, and what’s best for you. When I started the college admissions process, I became acutely aware that my identity was going to play a bigger role in my life from that point forward than it ever had before.

First, I feel like you should get to know a little bit about me and my background: I grew up on Staten Island, which is its own interesting place: it’s nominally a part of New York City and some parts of it certainly feel more like a city, but the neighborhood where I grew up might as well be the stock photo for Suburbia, USA. (For fellow SNL fans out there, think anything Pete Davidson has ever said about Staten Island. He grew up in the same neighborhood I did.) My mom and I are (probably even now) the only people of color who live on our block and I could count on one hand the number of other Latinx people who went to my high school. I knew I looked different from most of my friends and I realized, of course, that racism and prejudice existed, but my identity was not something I actively thought about unless I had to. Enter the college admissions process. 

When you’re applying to colleges, you have to check a box for race and ethnicity. As a halfie/mixed kid/whatever you want to call me, I was used to checking multiple boxes, but I soon realized my answers had nothing to do with my identity. Checking a hundred boxes wouldn’t even begin to encompass my identity, or yours, or anyone else’s because you can’t boil down a person full of opinions, experiences, and dreams into a hundred boxes. 

As you can imagine, being eighteen, confused about your own identity, and faced with probably the most important decisions of your life thus far is grounds for a lot of introspection, observation, and reflection. I didn’t apply early decision anywhere because I wanted to explore my options. Even though I’m convinced by the argument that you can make any school your home for the next four years, I noticed a lot of variations between the ways different colleges and campuses approach the topic of identity that I think are important to keep in mind.

Some colleges barely talked about diversity. I’m not saying they were “colorblind,” but identity-based groups were not something they touted, nor did they ever mention the proportion of students of color on campus. In other words, those campuses felt like the environments I was used to: racism and prejudice won’t be tolerated here, but they’re also not things which are openly discussed.

Then, some colleges were all about diversity. I was invited to all the talks for students of color and their special open house programs for students of color, where I would be introduced to all the Latinx organizations on campus, be paired with a Latinx student to guide me through the open house, and absolutely every event would be dedicated to being Latinx or a student of color. 

Something about both scenarios felt wrong. Not to get too political, but the 2016 election had just happened during my senior year: to not have spaces to vent to other students with similar identities as me about the things which perhaps weren’t happening on campus but were certainly happening in the outside world felt disheartening. On the other hand, as a person growing up half-white and half-Jewish, who perennially felt like an outsider when in a Latinx space, going to a school where being Latinx would potentially be my whole identity seemed petrifying. Even when the open houses for students of color bled into open houses for admitted students, the feeling that I could only ever be one thing persisted--if I wanted to embrace my Latina identity, my Jewish identity, my sexuality, or my extracurricular interests, that was it: one singular aspect of my identity would define me and my existence on campus. And you could get along with members of other groups, sure, but there would always be an invisible wall separating you from everyone else. 

I was starting to lose hope that I would find a place where I could be me and that would be enough. And then, the very last open-house of April, a mere week before Decision Day: Barnard.

Being at Barnard felt so incredibly liberating after this string of experiences where I felt different parts of my identity were cast aside or fully defined by one singular aspect. At the pre-open house for students of color, I got to meet all students of color, not just the ones who shared my identity. That really built a feeling of solidarity: look at us go! And it wasn’t just all of us, the potential Class of 2021, that were cheering each other on--it was current students and alumnae, too, who all shared this bond of wanting to celebrate each other and our accomplishments. Even though we had different experiences and held different identities, there was no wall separating us. We all sat at the same table, this incredible, terrifying, and exciting journey ahead of us. I could ask questions without fear of being called ignorant; I could vent without fear of being unheard. 

That was what I saw in Barnard three years ago, in 2017, when I first decided to come here. Now, in 2020, much of what I saw then, I experienced firsthand. I can go to Mujeres, Mixed Heritage Society, and Hillel casually, without feeling like I’m missing out on something or like I’ve stepped into a room and taken up space that belongs to someone else. I know there is a space on campus which welcomes everyone but was dedicated as a place for me and other Latinx students in our community. Most importantly, I can speak and know that the person I’m talking to may not relate to or even understand everything that I’m experiencing, but we’re still connected in this community. I exist! Every single part of me! It’s a small thing, but it’s something to celebrate. 

When you speak to Barnard students about why they chose Barnard, an answer you’ll often get is that Barnard allowed them to get the best of all worlds--small liberal arts college, big research university, women’s college, co-ed school and New York City all rolled into one. That’s certainly a big reason why I ended up picking Barnard, but I think another, dare I say even more important reason why I ended up coming here is because I knew, from the moment I stepped on campus as an admitted student, that I would not have to compromise or give up any part of my identity to be accepted as a member of this school. That’s truly a wonderful, incredible, and powerful thing.