Earlier, I wrote a piece, a list of 28 lessons that I had taken away from Ohio State and I wanted to end with the biggest thing I will take away from college, from the years 2013-2017. After writing it, I decided that number 29, deserved more space than a list of one-liners could give.

#29 is embodied the picture above. Each of these pots is a friend, two I met freshmen year, one in sophomore summer, and one in junior year. Each one is precious to me. At a crafting/game night, I asked if they could paint something for me that signified our friendship, either how we met, or what we will remember about each other.

For the yellow, I will remember taking my first MUNDO trip, a trip I now consider my first “college experience,” to see the Lion King and being worried about knowing no one. I will remember getting early to the bus circle and sitting by a stranger, and talking for hours on the bus there, at Wendy’s, on the way back from Pittsburgh. We tried to rock-climb half a dozen times first semester but would never remember to check the climbing schedule; we went together to our first Party at the Wex and found art that affected us and art where our attempt at interpretations made us laugh. She was the reason I switched my major to Neuroscience, the friend who would meet me in Lincoln’s lobby to talk barefoot at all the odd hours and the girl whose friendship and light continually inspired me to push through first year.

For the polka dots, I will remember seeing a girl set up her Doctor Who poster on the bottom bunk, and on the first day, recognizing pieces of my sister in my new roommate. I will remember afternoons studying side by side and being happily distracted by watching OUaT over her shoulder; I will remember her teasing at my daily and greasy to-go bags from Mirror Lake Creamery and my responding quips about her extremely colorful RPAC meals. She stayed up late to give me “The Talk,” complete with pictures and recommendations to Youtube videos, applied to Mirrors and eventually Sphinx Honorary with me and always served as my anchor in a sea of overwhelming newness. She was the recipient of my finals week Cheryl’s cookies boxes, an example of unabashed pride in what she loves and a mothering influence that give me my first family at OSU.

For the pink pot, I will remember unexpected meeting a girl in my lab one summer and finding out she was going to be my research partner. I will remember discovering that she was one of the girls’ who got the house my roommates and I were trying to lease the fall before, I will remember opening up to her early on for advice. We muddled through research together, learning how to present, perform behavioral assays and pretend like we knew what we were doing even when we didn’t. She taught me to how to recognize sarcasm (most of the time), exposed me to more Harry Potter trivia than I will ever need to know, and her courage in admitting pre-med wasn’t her life path and switching to her true passion gave me the courage to do the same.

For the blue pot, I will remember being flustered when a student introduced himself to me by formally shaking my hand and worrying that I didn’t have a proper business handshake. I will remember him giving me a safe space to talk about vulnerable parts of myself that I didn’t always acknowledge, I will remember his playful shock at my music taste when we exchanged playlists and my own surprise at what was on his. We unwound outside of class, spending time watching movies, playing Truth or Dare, learning how to box, play chess and quill. He let me cut his hair on a dare, cooks and crafts with me regularly, whether the project is Filipino food or sewing neck pillows, and is an unwavering pillar of support and kindness.

These pots are just four of the friends I have made—I still need to rope everyone else into painting a pot with me. But my friends—their stories, our connections—are the most valuable thing I will take away from 2013-2017. I have been told: surround yourself with excellence. I didn’t set out to do that, but in the process of making friends and family, I have found the most excellent people that I could ever imagine to find and I am blessed to have them.

The closer I get to the end of my OSU journey, the farther I look back. These past few weeks have been all about passing the torch: reviewing applications for the next crop of leaders in my organizations interviewing who will be the new Peer Mentors, going back to my hometown with University Admissions to tell high school seniors why they should become Buckeyes. The more I think about the next step, the more I appreciate the lessons that I’ve learned from Fall 2013 to Spring 2017.

1. This school may seem big, but you’d be amazed how far your reputation, positive or negative, can spread.
2. Don’t network, connect.
3. It’s better to be an inch wide and a mile deep than a mile wide and an inch deep.
4. An opportunity for one is an opportunity for all.
5. You are always worth it.
6. Get a will from Student Legal Services before you leave-you’ll save yourself time and hundreds of dollars in the future.
7. There is nothing wrong with not knowing where you’re going.
8. Sometimes college will stink. Sometimes all-nighters, Math 4181 midterms, homesickness, culture shock and too much coffee will break you. It’s all about getting back up.
9. Your struggle is no less valid than the person’s next to you and theirs is no less valid than yours.
10. At some point, make a Buckeye Bucket List and try to cross everything off by the time you graduate.
11. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad about documenting your experiences. Some blog, some post to Instagram, some take millions of pictures. All experiences are valid.
12. A test is not more important than your health, mental or physical.
13. Needing a fifth or sixth year is no shame—you’re just taking a victory lap.
14. Find a mentor and be a mentor. The first will make you better, the second will let you do the same for another.
15. Take a free RPAC class.
16. Always carry yourself like your younger sibling is watching and learning.
17. Build a community that surrounds you with dignity, respect, support and love.
18. There is no such thing as an “easy major.”
19. Be it science or humanities, all research is “real research.”
20. Figure out your values and live by them.
21. You are more than your GPA, your MCAT/LSAT/GRE score and your extracurriculars.
22. You might find yourself needing to bow out of some commitments—do it respectfully and in a way that doesn’t leave hard feelings when you leave.
23. Explore the different libraries—they each have their own character and vibe!
24. Instant connections can be made just by seeing someone rock scarlet and gray.
25. Friendships can be made in moments.
26. It’s okay–no one knows what they’re doing either.
27. Don’t be ashamed of what you love.
28. When you leave, you will be changed by your campus, and your campus will have been changed by you.

*There’s actually a #29, but that’s another story.

I’ve been taking, and planning, service-learning trips with MUNDO since my sophomore year. Each experience is different, and although I couldn’t articulate everything I learned, or all that I experienced during my time in the City of Angels, it’s fun to watch my friends and I zigzag over the map while I try.

This week, more than any other, we are reminded to come together, to support each other. We are reminded to be #BuckeyeStrong. The only problem is, sometimes even the act of summoning that strength can be painful. It’s hard to gather strength in the face of such tragedy and heartbreak. Hard to reassure family members you feel safe, hard to accept that, yes, it can happen here and yes, people are using this tragedy to unfairly target the Somali, refugee and Muslim populations because of the attacker’s identity. When you struggle to remain strong facing pain, fear, or hate, I encourage you to lean on one another, and remember that strength comes from within and without. Pull on the strength within yourself, and when you need help finding it, seek strength and comfort in each other, support each other, and thank each other today and every day.

To my advisors: Thank you, Dr. Givens, for putting me on the path to Public Health and grad school. Thank you, Charlie Campbell, for putting up with my endless questions and for supporting me with my constantly changing career paths. Thank you, Julius Mayo, my MUNDO advisor, for the responsibilities, the opportunity to learn, and the room to grow. What I’ve learned from you will serve me for the rest of my life, and touch upon my every action. And thank you, Joanna Spanos. You showed me folklore classes, helped me find my minor. You consistently go above and beyond for your students every day—and do the same for kids who aren’t even your students. Finding you at my conference presentation, and learning that you secretly invited my friends as well, was one of the sweetest surprises I’ve ever had.

To my experiences: thank you, MUNDO at OSU, for expanding my knowledge of the world and shaping my viewpoint forever. I promise to bring what you’ve taught me “to the streets.” Thank you, Mirrors Sophomore Honorary, for teaching me to take initiative, and the Institute of Behavioral Medicine Research, for teaching me what the real world of research looks like. Honors Peer Mentors, thank you for the chance to mentor young minds, and thank you, KindCarts, for showing me how to combine my various loves–service, healthcare, and crafting—into one culminating, sustaining project that nourishes myself and others.

To my friends: thank you, every one, for being there in every teary-eyed sadness and heart-pounding joy. Thank you, Chorsie for your always buoyant attitude, Max for your honesty and big heart, Marques for your unwavering, unshakeable belief in me. I can never express how much of an impact you four have had on my life. Thank you, Cam for your straight-talk, Athena for your sweetness, Rachel R. for taking research adventures with me and Rachel B. for bringing your sunny nature wherever you go. Haley, you were my first roommate and my OSU constant; Hannah, who I never thought I’d know so well, I love all I’ve learned by living with you. Thank you, Sean for your kindness and constant willingness to craft/cook with me, and thank you, Nisha for being one of my very first friends on campus.

To Ohio State: you’re the only one I don’t know how to thank, because so much of who I am was shaped with you. I see myself at every stage in your halls, at every milestone in your streets. Pieces of me will be scattered throughout campus for years to come, from my name carved in Sphinx Plaza to the ephemeral ghosts of past triumphs, failings, struggles, and love.

As Buckeyes, it is our job to stand in the face of hate, and stand not just as a few students or a few faculty, but as a whole unrelenting unit that proclaims OSU is a place for love and acceptance. A place to run, fall, pick ourselves up and start again—-a place to honor tragedy but stand against fear, a community where we support each other and grow to be #Buckeyestrong.

It’s safe to say I have a love affair with leadership. Almost every organization I’m involved in lists this idea in its primary values. I read books about how to translate these skills into the workplace and everyday life; I present and participate in its retreats and conferences. MUNDO put a hand into Leadership Week this year, advocating for study abroad and increased cultural competency as a way to gain these skills. Distinguished guests came and spoke about their own journeys and experiences. All week, we sang an ode to leadership and all its multicolored facets, so The Office of Student Life asked the students to define what it meant to them.

For me, leadership is not scrambling for the top. Leadership is serving with integrity. It means following your morals and using them to light the way. It means supporting your fellow man and your community, whether that be through service, mentoring, or a simple hug. For my brother, leadership is not for personal gain. Leadership is for the happiness of others. Whatever your definition is, make sure it continuously guides how you make your impact in this world.

The Oval clears for a couple coming back to make the Long Walk before a surprise proposal. Balloons fly across every corner of the Union and a stage sits in the center. The masses swarm in waves of scarlet and gray and Buckeyes of every age carpet campus. It’s Homecoming weekend, and the Buckeyes have come home.

For some, the return had to be jarring. In more places than one, new glass buildings have replaced familiar brick halls. The old Union is gone, with the one I know reaching only its sixth birthday, and majors that were once the stuff of science fiction and fantasy have classes spread across the Oval. The meaning of “time and change” truly hit me when a tried Link of Sphinx Senior Honorary met a member of this year’s class and could not wrap their head around the fact they got in. Why? Because “girls aren’t allowed in Sphinx.”

Although it might not be as dramatic as the introduction of Title IX, the campus I knew as a freshmen is different than the one I see now. Insomnia Cookies and Caine’s have left central campus, and most of the local businesses on High Street have been, or will be, forced out of business for high scale apartments and business buildings. SEL is now 18^th Avenue Library. North Campus, once a quiet study-land, is now the most updated area of campus. Resources are increasingly devoted to second-years, as STEP’s creation two years ago takes hold and a two year live on requirement ballooned the on-campus population. The James Cancer Hospital has a new building. Bystander training is required of all incoming freshmen. The Union Market no longer sells onion petals. A tradition involving Mirror Lake has officially been condemned by the university, and if rumors are true, the lake itself will soon disappear.

Time and change. Some of these changes I welcome. Others I don’t. Sometimes, my opinion is built on pettiness, such as sadness about university dining no longer serving my favorite side snack. Other times, it’s built on disappointment in my school, where money sometimes seems to take precedence over student welfare. Where funding can be found for cosmetic changes but not for creating a Women’s Place, hiring an extra advisor in the MCC or fixing a system that takes advantage of adjunct professors. Where a new campus rec center is ordered to be built without any increase to the department’s budget, leading to the elimination of holiday pay, shortened hours, and less benefits for the student employees in order to pull it off. Where OSU chooses to kick out local businesses and affordable housing, both of which are accessible to students, in favor of lucrative new tenants whose businesses and apartments are out of the financial range of all but the most wealthy grads and undergrads.

Time and change. Both bring turmoil, whether positive or negative. And so many of the changes on campus have been positive. Maymester has allowed students to sample new classes and graduate on time by providing a free 3-credit hour voucher since its creation. The It’s On Us Campaign and mandatory sexual assault training have helped bring light to campus issues and slowly shift previously ingrained mentalities. OSU shows dedication to sustainability, in its infrastructure, its emphasis of the same to its students, in looking for innovation solutions. For every change that someone sees as a misstep, there’s another step that someone sees as progress and vice versa.

I myself have changed since stepping foot on this campus. I’m not as self-assured that the sheltered eighteen-year-old who entered Lincoln Tower, but I’m more self-aware. I’m involved in the world around me, am more political. My friend circle has changed, from highly similar high school friends who always agreed with each other, to a rowdier, less harmonious group with different backgrounds and different opinions. I have causes and stances that earn praise and push back. I’m more driven and find myself saddled with bigger dreams; dreams that I know won’t all come true, but even some of them becoming reality is more than freshman year could have ever imagined. The sum of these changes: are they good? I don’t know. I don’t know whether I have necessarily “improved” as a person while at OSU, but I do know that OSU and I have created an indelible change in each other, just one more link in a cycle that occurs for everyone who comes to Columbus as a Buckeye.

And as always, even when dealing with such change, we always return home, to our OSU families and traditions. We sing Carmen at the end of every game, and Homecoming Kings and Queens from decades past put on their sash and join in. Each class makes its own traditions, a tradition in itself, and students build lifelong bonds with their classmates. Because at Ohio State, scarlet and gray are always the best colors, boys and girls grow into men and women, and the Long Walk still means love forever after.

Two years ago, I started an organization called KindCarts in sophomore year. I love it. It helps patients in dark times, it’s helped me grow as a person and a leader; it was my Leadershape vision. It receives the best parts of me. I submitted it to be featured on a company website whose page highlights charitable efforts, and received a grim reminder of how far we, as a society, have to come.

I never knew that my organization was featured until yesterday and was initially ecstatic. When I went to click on it, some odd things jumped out at me. First, although the blurb matched almost word-for-word the one in my record (barring pronouns), it started off with “Pat Rice is a member of . . .” At first I found it funny, even Snapchatting it to my friends. Like, who is this Pat Rice person, right? But then I noticed how the way they cropped the picture so it removed as many minorities from the shot as possible. I thought about the word choice of “Rice” and being bullied as a child for being Asian by being called “sushi.” So I started digging and everything I saw seemed to indicate one thing—the willful, intentional erasure of minorities.

Was the cropping out of minorities an accident? After all, some pictures still included minorities, and all pictures were made an equal width and length (3 inches on my computer), which could account for the change. So I first looked at the zoom function when you hovered over them on the main page. Sometimes the zoom cut out the people on the edges slightly, but the clicked-on picture removed them even more completely. In other pictures, clicking on the picture led you to the same picture with no cropping, or even to a one that showed more than the first. In all those pictures, almost all of the people were white. But anytime minorities could be cropped out, they were—they only stayed in the picture if they were near the center. Two young black girls, a twenty-ish Asian woman, an older black woman. Once you clicked on the picture, the article showed a picture where they were fully or partially removed.

Why change my name? Maybe for privacy purposes? But every other name on their Make for Good page was real; I googled and found them all, with pictures or references to their organizations to prove it. So what was different about my name compared to theirs? Their names were pretty ethnically ambiguous; mine is not. Even if you could argue the pictures were accidental in some way, maybe a computer glitch, the name change is not. That change had to be purposefully done.

This is by far not the only time I’ve experienced something like this. I’ve been bullied with every name there is, I’ve been told I was only cast as the musical’s lead because of the director wanted to look “multicultural,” I’ve been told I can’t say the Pledge of Allegiance because “I’m not a real citizen.” But this is different, or at least, it feels different. KindCarts is the best parts of me. I pore my love into it; it makes people smile; it makes an impact. Why is what I do good enough for you, but who I am not? Why is what I do apparently enough to gain praise, but only if it can’t be accredited to me, only if a name that sounds less ethnic, more “white” is there to take credit?

I don’t need recognition. But I do need people to know that I am present. I am here, and so is every other person who has been denied or erased because of their race or their gender, their sexuality, their disability, or their “anything different.” Immigrants, minorities, LBGTQ+, women, these people you try to deny, they contribute to this society every day. We make contributions, we help build your roads, discover your medicines, teach your children and serve your families. You cannot demand our work, but not give us the right to be seen. You cannot praise our work and then remove us from the picture like we never existed. You cannot want what we do, but not want us.

We can do better than this. If you are being treated wrongly, please speak out. If you see someone being treated wrongly, please reach out. We can build a kinder community. If they want silence, our voices will drown them out. If they want to erase us, they will not be able to, because the light will always chase away the dark, and the warm will always replace the cold.

Build community. Know the value of one and the power of all. Challenge what is, look to what could be. Bring vision to reality. Live and lead with Integrity. Stay in action.

These are the lessons I learned over my amazing six days at the Leadershape Institute. I walked into Camp Joy on Sunday, ready to learn more about leadership, wanting to “expand my toolbox.” I didn’t know I’d come out knowing more about myself, about how my vision can shape the world, about how we can all shape our world. Sixty-four incredible students climbed off the bus when we arrived; one thriving community climbed back on as we left.

There has never been a week where I have been more vulnerable, or when I have seen more power in vulnerability. The safe/brave space we created allowed us to let down our barriers and show our authentic selves—and our dreams for the future. We papered the walls with our visions—dreams that we strived for and would make reality. I read about 100% voter turnout, about the end of discrimination in our lifetime. I visited parks that would break down homeless stereotypes; I walked through programs that brought out our best selves; I saw cancer and suicide eradicated. I read each person’s vision, and as I did, I saw myself surrounded with the future that could, and would be.

Our visions can sometimes seem so out of reach, so we doubt our power to realize them. But we are our own worst critic, and sometimes our flaws and failures blind us to our strengths. If we see our friends bashing themselves, we stand up for them, and affirm them. Why do we not show ourselves the same love we show them, or see ourselves the way they do? My cluster, my small group family, tried to do this on the last day. We thought of our most loved person, the emotions we felt for them, the way we viewed them. We thought about their strengths, and their flaws, and smiled. Then, we viewed ourselves from that same perspective, and wrote a letter. I came out this week more confident, more in-touch with myself, and this letter is the best way I can think to iterate the positive imprint Leadershape had on me as a leader and as a person.

“Dear self,

You have had a long week of Leadershape, and I know you’re sad to see it end.

I am proud of you. You opened up to your cluster and friends, you tried to live up to your goals. You stretched yourself. Sitting at new lunch tables every day was hard. Conversations were hard. I feel like you truly felt your worth during physical challenges—the wall, the 45-foot high rope net. You can do so much more than you think. You explored the woods on your won, you climbed the ladder—and your size did not deter you from anything. Don’t underestimate yourself.

Remember how you were helpful in teams, like making our logo and chant. Remember when you were a good team player, like supporting your partner and belay team on the rope net. You have a contribution—you are a contribution.

Remember how you felt filling out the “person I want to be” paper. That was your breakthrough—carry that feeling and those lessons with you.

Be someone who is empowered and empowers others.

Be someone who spreads kindness and builds community.

Be someone who listens.

Be brave.

Not everyone will like you. Don’t mind them and learn to believe more in your own worth. They are the ones who will miss out.

And it’s okay to make your dreams big. Don’t limit yourself because you want to hit everything on the checklist, because you’re afraid to fail. You’re going to—so just look at each misstep and say, as Lindsay does, “How fascinating!”

So, please build your castle in the sky. Make it as big as you want, decorate in abundance, color the grounds with light and verve and fill it with love and laughter. Dream big so that, when you finally reach the doors of your realized vision, you race in laughing.

Love,

You”

PowHERful: One Woman can change the world. When I hear it, I think of three things: a nickname, a TedTalk, and a saying.

My best friend has a nickname for me. He calls me Wonder Woman. It makes me flush with joy. It is something that I write down in all my planners to brighten my day. Being Wonder Woman means I can do anything I want; be whoever I want, because I am me, and I am powerful.

But being Wonder Woman can be hard. Being Wonder Woman means that I can’t make a mistake, and more than that, that I have to do everything. I need to make sure all of my homework gets done and that I go to all my classes. I need to organize next week’s meeting for my student organization and make sure the minutes from the last meeting get sent out on time. I have a project I’m working on for the cancer hospital, so I just have to make sure all the materials are ready, and while I’m at it, let me volunteer for that extra shift since I know they’ll be short-handed. Marcus is struggling with his science homework, so I can help him go over his lab report, and since the URO needs a presenter, I can volunteer for that as long as I leave right afterwards to go to my committee meetings. The weekend starts tomorrow, so it’s relaxation time. I’ll need to make sure that I support my friends, so I’ll just fit in Rachel’s 20^th birthday party, and Sean’s album release concert and Chorsie’s stage-managing debut, even though they’re all the same day and the same time. Oh, yeah, and that biochemistry midterm is on Monday, isn’t it?

These cycling thoughts prevade my, and my female friends’ minds. Women, and girls especially, come under a pressure-cooker of demands. I watched a TEDTalk recently by the woman who founded Girls Who Code. She put it perfectly. She said women are raised to be perfect. But in my opinion, we’re not just raised to be perfect-we’re raised to be “everything.” By that, I mean, perfection is expected in every aspect of our lives. It’s not enough to be perfect at math and love reading. You also have to play sports well, sing well, be interested in video games, defy stereotypes—the list goes on and on. I, and many other girls I know, often feel like the world’s weight. Or, alternatively, that the eyes of the world are on us. The world seems poised for us to fail, looking for our mistakes, so we push ourselves to succeed, and excel, and surpass. To be perfect in everything: that is what we are socialized to see as powerful. But that is not power. That is invincibility and invincibility falls into the realm of Wonder Woman. She is infallible, and we are not—and that difference makes us human and imperfect and beautiful.

So slow down. Take care of yourself first. It’s okay to not be the doctor your parents dreamed of; it’s all right to not be your country’s Malala. You don’t need to be everything to everyone. Stretch yourself and push your boundaries but don’t break yourself in the process.

The last thing that the Women’s History Month theme makes me of is an oft-quoted saying. The saying goes “let her sleep. Let her sleep, for when she wakes, she will move mountains.” She can move mountains, but let her know that it’s okay if she doesn’t. It’s okay if she doesn’t do it all, if she is not Wonder Woman, because she is just as valid, and just as powerful, if all she does that day is go to school. Because in that time, she told her friend that their new haircut looked good, and that put them on Cloud Nine. She helped a lost high-schooler find their way around campus, and that made OSU their top choice. She may have struggled with her physical chemistry homework, but she finished it and she gained the tools she needed to change her future. Power is not always loud or noticeable. But it is always real.

Women are powerful. We are powerful—and one woman can change the world. But that is a heavy, potentially crushing, burden for just one. So be brave, not perfect. Know that you can be powerful, but also know you can’t be invincible. You don’t need to be Wonder Woman. But, if every woman is claiming her own, if every woman is changing her own part of the world, then together, we can, and we will, be Wonder Woman.