Making Community: Princeton’s Filipino Club!


At Princeton, there are several places to find community. In your residential college, in clubs, in classes. But when there’s a gap to be filled, and students can’t find exactly what they’re looking for, it becomes all the more important for them to make that community for themselves. 

This is precisely what I experienced over the course of the past year. Being a proud Filipino, I recall seeking out any sort of Filipino club when I first came to Princeton. I knew that there were fellow students here that shared my heritage, but it was just a matter of finding them and connecting with them.

I was so glad to hear that there were other students (shoutout to the Qua sisters!), who felt the same way and had already gotten the ball rolling. Thus, the Princeton Filipino Community (PFC) was born. Though versions of the club had existed in prior years, the club had been dormant for some time. The idea first started gaining traction again towards the end of my sophomore year, and it was at the beginning of my junior year when I saw these ideas really come to fruition. 

Over the past few months, we have made huge strides in establishing our tight-knit Filipino family on campus, and I’m honored to have been even a small part in that. This past semester, I served on the leadership team of PFC as the Social Media Manager and have gotten to help plan some of our first few events of the year. 

For instance, our kickoff dinner this past September was super successful. I remember walking out of it being so incredibly happy—“just good vibes” was the phrase that I used to describe the feeling to my friends. Even more significantly, it was also cool to meet a ton of other Filipino undergraduates, graduate students, and faculty alike. I’ve gained so many more familiar faces to say hi to around campus and, for that, I’m grateful!

During our club events, we partake in all the classic activities of our country: from Halo-Halo making; to creating traditional Filipino Christmas lanterns known as parols; and, of course, singing karaoke! Our meetings are also always filled with delicious, authentic Filipino food, so it’s the perfect time to experience a taste of home while at college. Not to mention, all these things are funded by the University! With monetary help from Princeton’s Projects Board, the funding branch of our Undergraduate Student Government (USG), student organizations like ours are really able to thrive.

Though I won’t be serving as an officer next semester, I’m so glad to have been involved in PFC’s revival, and I’m excited to see what else is to come for our club!


Being Muslim at Princeton


When I was researching and applying to colleges my senior year, it was important for me to have a Muslim community on campus – a place that I could be accepted and be supported with my identity as a practicing Muslim woman. And while I am thankful to attend Princeton for many reasons, it is the Muslim community here on campus that has had the greatest impact on my experience here.

The Muslim community on campus is smaller than other religious groups, but we are a closely knit family. There isn’t a day that I don’t go to Murray-Dodge, the Office of Religious Life on campus, to see my friends and snack on the free cookies in the basement. As Muslims are obligated to pray five times a day, I am often running to – as it is affectionately known to many of us on campus – “MD” to quickly catch a congregated prayer in the prayer room on the third floor.

I am also the Events Coordinator for the Muslim Students Association, which is an organization I love dearly. Our events range from Muslim Monologues, an open-mic style event to invite members of the community to discuss various aspects of their faith, to more casual events of community cooking and ummah nights. I look forward to Friday afternoons the most, to the weekly Jummah prayer, where the corresponding sermon revitalizes both my spirit and heart – and there are always samosas after.

Another of my favorite times throughout the year is the month of Ramadan, the holy month of fasting, reflection, and prayer. Prior to my first Ramadan on campus last year, I was concerned about how I would practice my faith under the day-to-day workload of Princeton. I can now say that was the least of my concerns – the previous Ramadan ended up being the most spiritual and community-focused Ramadan of my life! From breaking my fast daily with friends to late nights in the Frist MPR in prayer, it was an experience that felt both completing and connecting. Many of my professors were aware of Ramadan and were also very understanding with extended deadlines and general aid. As I write this, I am even more excited for the upcoming Ramadan.

Truly, without the Muslim community, I would not have been able to call the Princeton campus home. They are my family here, and I love each of them dearly – even when they distract me from work. Feel free to come to any of our meetings, Muslim or not, as we simply are a community with a love of love to give.  


Introducing My Professor, Dr. Rivera-Lopez and Her Reflections on Teaching, Impact and Latinx Representation


Without a doubt, every student at Princeton will tell you there was one class that completely changed their perspective on a topic, a field of study or even life. Courses like these are available at Princeton, they make you reevaluate what you think you know and even spark curiosity to learn something new. As Hispanic/Latinx Heritage Month comes to an end, I’d like to share one of my professors from the Latino Studies program that has challenged me to think critically about the way I view Latinx representation not only in media and literature but also my past education and narratives I’ve consumed. In my sophomore fall semester, I took “Introduction to Latino/a/x Studies” with the amazing Dr. Keishla Rivera-Lopez, a lecturer in the Effron Center for the Study of America. The course explored themes such as identity, culture, belonging and Latinidad. She has taught me countless lessons through her courses and with each one, my intellectual curiosity has grown. I invited Professor Rivera-Lopez to share more about her experience as a Latina professor at Princeton, how she came up with such interesting/engaging courses and what her main goals are in teaching Latino/a/x Studies courses.

Read Dr. Rivera-Lopez's piece, 'A Brief Reflection on Teaching, Impact and Latinx Representation.'


A Brief Reflection on Teaching, Impact and Latinx Representation


 

An introduction from blogger Melissa Ruiz '25

Without a doubt, every student at Princeton will tell you there was one class that completely changed their perspective on a topic, a field of study or even life. Courses like these are available at Princeton, they make you reevaluate what you think you know and even spark curiosity to learn something new. As Hispanic/Latinx Heritage Month comes to an end, I’d like to share one of my professors from the Latino Studies program that has challenged me to think critically about the way I view Latinx representation not only in media and literature but also my past education and narratives I’ve consumed. In my sophomore fall semester, I took “Introduction to Latino/a/x Studies” with the amazing Dr. Keishla Rivera-Lopez, a lecturer in the Effron Center for the Study of America. The course explored themes such as identity, culture, belonging and Latinidad. She has taught me countless lessons through her courses and with each one, my intellectual curiosity has grown. I invited Professor Rivera-Lopez to share more about her experience as a Latina professor at Princeton, how she came up with such interesting/engaging courses and what her main goals are in teaching Latino/a/x Studies courses.

 

Dr. Rivera-Lopez

My short time at Princeton has been the most impactful and memorable teaching experience for me. It is in these classrooms, through dialogues that I realized my students have a hunger for more, more discussions about the popular culture or media that is supposed to represent us though many times it falls short and disappoints us. Though, sometimes, there are glowing renditions of our culture that give us immense pride. My students want more book and film recommendations that can, hopefully, endeavor to fill the gaps of knowledge they were deprived of in our primary and secondary education systems. They ask if I’ll be teaching more classes to satisfy their intellectual questions, which, in turn, makes me feel very needed and valued at this institution. This idea of more is not a coincidence when it seems like we’re often excluded from the curriculum or in other facets of society, and these moments remind us we’re often offered less. So, it seems my role here has been to provide more to my students, and it reminds me a lot of my experiences as an undergraduate seeking more knowledge and information regarding my homeland and culture to not only be included, but done so in an authentic and positive light. I know what it felt like to not see my history or my communities represented in mandatory literature or history classes throughout my education or that I belonged in those conversations or spaces. I had an immense feeling that learning my history and culture was a personal project, a solo trip I had to take and fulfill for myself. So, I majored in Latino and Caribbean Studies and immersed myself into finding out more.

My students’ introspective natures remind me of myself - this is why I went to graduate school and pursued a career in academia in the first place. As an undergraduate in a “Latino Literature” course, I rediscovered a passion for reading when I was no longer required to reread the same books and narratives that were recycled year after year in my high school education. I was finally not bored in a literature class and felt like I had to make up for years of no exposure. It untapped a desire for more in me - this is why I see myself in my students. This class cultivated a new worldview and way of understanding how and why my family came here - my dad in Brooklyn and my mother in Chicago and later settling in New Jersey within a Puerto Rican and Dominican enclave. I learned these enclaves aren’t a coincidence - they erupt from waves of migrants, like my family, who had to leave their homelands. I reflect on the meaning of education and its accessibility because most of my family hasn’t received a college education. I think about how I represent my own family history in the classroom as a first generation scholar, a Puerto Rican woman from an urban working class city, a Latina in academia and how it has given me a unique approach to teaching. Being a Latina is deeply rooted in my pedagogical approach and scholarship. 

And, within the liminality of representation or course offerings, I hope my classroom is a space for interesting and thought-provoking dialogue, one that offers historical context about migration and labor that help my students better understand Latino communities and activism while also providing nuances about culture and identity that help them better define and construct Latinidad for themselves. I hope my classrooms are a safe space to discuss the current happenings within Latino music, aesthetics, literature, and media so my students feel represented in the classroom and can discuss how iterations of the past inform the present. Or, why, for example, we can, and we do, discuss big cultural icons like Bad Bunny, Karol G, Cardi B, JLo, etc. in productive and meaningful ways.

I believe representation weighs heavily in the way a college experience is shaped and felt, so my job here in front of the classroom isn’t miniscule. I want to underscore the reason I have the role to be in front of the classroom in the first place is because of a dedicated and passionate professor, Dr. Yomaira Figueroa-Vasquez, who became my mentor and invested in me while I was an undergrad. Mentorship is critical to the retention and success of working-class, underrepresented, and first-gen students. She also taught me an invaluable lesson outside of the classroom - my history and experiences matter and, I too, belong in institutions, like academia, even though they don’t necessarily always make space for our stories, contributions, or us. Furthermore, I’m proud to be here and be able to do this work. This rhetoric pushed me through many moments of doubt, imposter syndrome, and hardship in graduate school, and now, as I navigate academia.

I am so lucky to be in conversation with and teach students because I learn so much from them. Their kind words and honest feedback make me feel truly valued and appreciated as a Latina at an ivy league institution. Though it is an enormous task, I endeavor to impact my students through in-class instruction, mentorship and dialogue that emulates the way my mentor helped and shaped me. Ultimately, my students inspire and motivate me to keep developing courses and different projects to maintain their engagement and interests. I am thankful for their contributions to class discussions, intentional reading, and their feedback that lets me know what my classes mean to them. I hope I can fulfill their need(s) for more in their quest to obtain and understand Latino Studies discourses of culture, literature, and histories.

 

Students sit around a round table with an orange table cloth, holding up books.
Caption from Melissa: This photo is from a book event with one of the authors on the syllabus for the Latinx Narratives: Literature, Music and Culture class. Dr. Rivera-Lopez moderated the conversation with the author and many of her students, past and present, attended! 

 


My Identities and My Idol: Cheering for Messi and World-champion Argentina With Princeton’s Jewish-latino Community


Forget about George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Martin Luther King or Rosa Parks. Argentina’s only, true national hero is soccer player Lionel Messi. A legend admired by citizens of all generations, it’s every Argentinian’s dream to see him play live. That dream became a reality for me when Princeton’s Jewish-Latino community, J-Lats, invited me to an Argentina vs. Jamaica game in New Jersey last September. 

J-Lats had always been, and continues to be, an important community for me on campus. My experience as a Latino is fundamentally interwoven with my experience as a Jewish person, and my experience as a Jewish person is impossible to detach from the Latino context where it flourished. J-Lats gives me a group where that intersection of identities is celebrated— we host “Shabbat Picante!” at the Center for Jewish Life, we bring speakers, and we host world-cup-themed study breaks and food-filled meetings. 

When Argentina’s Fútbol Association announced a game in New Jersey, I thought to myself: "c’mon… New Jersey out of all places? This has to be a sign from the universe." I contacted J-Lats’s president, Alex Egol, and plans went into the works. Less than 2 weeks later, on September 27th, 2022, we were all on a train bound for the Red Bull Arena. We were welcomed by tens of thousands of fans wearing la albiceleste and passionately chanting on the team that just a few months later would crown itself FIFA World Cup champions.

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5 people smiling to a selfie in a stadium
Alex, Vanessa, Helena, Vicky and I hyping up the best team of all times.

Only 13 minutes into the game and suddenly GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!! We skyrocketed out of our seats and screamed like there was no tomorrow; we hugged and vámos-carajoed. We watched the rest of the game attentively, and then he was released onto the playing field: Lionel Messi! Seeing him in real life was difficult to define. It was strange to see that he’s not a fictional legend that landed from the heavens: he’s a human with two legs, and mamma mia can those legs do stuff! Messi authored the 2nd and 3rd goals, which made the arena shake in what can only be described as South American spirit.

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A girl and a boy smiling in front of a soccer field
Vicky and I are the only undergraduate students from Argentina. Hopefully we'll be more next time!

Coming back to campus, I felt grateful and lucky. Who would have guessed that the first time I’d see Argentina play live wouldn’t be in my homeland, but in New Jersey instead? The possibilities Princeton gives its students are endless, and they go from doing research with Nobel laureates, to designing computational universes, to fulfilling your dream of seeing your nation’s hero play fútbol.

I can say today, as I’m sure I’ll tell my grandchildren one day, that I saw Argentina’s World Cup champion team play live in the field, with 2 goals from the “GOAT” Messi. Vamos!


Dear QuestBridge Matches: Playing Life on Hard Mode


Dear Great QuestBridge Match Class of 2027,

Has it sunk in yet? The fact that you are now an invaluable member of Princeton’s newest class?

It may not fully sink in until you step foot onto Princeton’s campus for orientation and your first day of classes, but regardless, I welcome you to Princeton’s Great Class of 2027!

Not to date myself, but I am a member of the QuestBridge Match Class of 2025. Even though it’s been two years since the fateful day when I matched to Princeton, I remember the process like it was yesterday: I remember the suspicion I first felt as I googled “Is QuestBridge a scam?” I remember the feverish race to submit all of my supplements by November 1st. Most clearly of all, I remember the day I received my match letter. I remember my hands shaking as I opened the email notification and the adrenaline that coursed through my body as I realized that everything I had been doing for the past four months—heck, the past four years—was about to culminate with this. Exact. Moment. 

As a first-generation, low income student navigating Princeton for the past two years, I have grown immensely. I’ve grown, and yet I am continuously grounded my home community and the on-campus QuestBridge community. 

As I write this letter to you right now, I hope to share a core lesson I’ve learned this past semester that may serve as food for thought as you close out your high school career:

A couple weeks ago, I was participating in HackPrinceton, and I went to a team-building event to meet some of the students who had driven and flown in from all around the world.

I walked up to the first person: “Hi, my name is Aminah! What’s your name?”

“Angel,” she said, smiling.

“Angelica?” I asked, echoing back what I’d heard.

“Angel,” she clarified.

Next to me, my friend snickered, incredulous at how I could have misheard the name so badly.

But it gets worse: this happened repeatedly.

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Alayna!”

“Allison, you said?”

At this point, my friend was dying of laughter. “Wow, you’re really playing life on hard mode aren’t you?!”

This moment from the hackathon has stayed with me, and I realize that my friend was right. In almost every way, I have always approached life assuming that it would be more difficult than it sometimes actually was. I have always assumed that I would be asked to jump through more and more hoops ad infinitum.

Now, some of this is a product of my low-income upbringing: nothing has been given to me on a silver platter and so I have come to expect struggle and pain as necessary prerequisites to my moving through the world.

What I have as a response is not some grandiose solution or overarching statement, but a question: What if life (or at least some parts of it) is actually simple? What if there are areas in your life right now where you are struggling because you think you have to, not because it is actually necessary?

You’ve done it. You are on track to become a graduate from one of the top universities in the country. You are in great hands. You have an opportunity to end high school hopefully in person, as the ramifications of the global pandemic have begun to recede.

Take this win. You’ve earned it. Congratulations!

 

With infinite love, 

Aminah 

 


To Find a Home


As an international student from Haiti, I have always been aware of my national identity, especially when traveling abroad. The first time I visited the United States, I realized how my Haitianness was not just a label, but had tangible and observable consequences for how I integrated spaces, how I was perceived and what kind of learning, unlearning and resistance I would have to perform. When I decided to commit to Princeton in April 2021, this awareness was front and center in my mind. Would I find my belonging without compromising who I was at my core? I wanted college to be a space for growth, but I didn't want that growth to come at the expense of my authentic self. I wasn't averse to challenging myself and being uncomfortable, but at what cost? I knew there were many affinity groups on campus that intersected with my national identity that would help me protect and nourish what I thought to be my identity. What I didn't know whether or where I would find a home. I carried these questions and doubts with me on the plane.

In the fall of my first year, I attended an event organized by the African Students Association (PASA). It was an event of delicious food, traditional board games, music and fantastic atmosphere! There were people from diverse backgrounds: first-generation immigrants, international students from the African continent or the diaspora, black students of all backgrounds, generational African-American students, and all those beautiful and complex intersectional identities. I immediately felt at home! I understood the humor, people laughed at my jokes, the music was engaging, the energy electrifying and the food seasoned. I felt seen and welcomed as part of a larger community. At that moment, my national identity made space for my other identities to be. I became part of something greater: a cultural community.

I experienced the same feeling over and over again. It was not just happening at PASA events. It happened at the movie nights organized by the Davis International Center. It happened again at study breaks with other first-generation low-income students. And again at the weekly dinners of the Society of African Internationals (SAIP). And again at the game nights organized by the Black Student Union (BSU). Over time, I came to see community, identity and belonging as dynamic concepts that can only be spoken of in plural. So far at Princeton, I have learned to see myself as more than Haitian. I have been encouraged to recognize and explore other aspects of myself. Other identities that make me who I am. I stopped chasing this single community where I would feel at home and instead welcomed the idea of ​​belonging through multiple communities and spaces. Thanks to a variety of student groups, only some of which I have officially joined (I am now the Vice-President of PASA), I was able to feel at home. Today, my Haitianness remains an extremely important part of who I am and of what drives me. Yet, I have found peace and joy in knowing and accepting that I am much more than that, however proud I am to be Haitian.

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Two friends in front of a lake in Seattle

The Black Woman Wellness Retreat & The Necessity for Self Care


During the winter break of my first year (Winter 2021), I stayed on campus. Break gave me the time I needed to listen to my own needs and goals instead of getting caught up in the busy-ness of the semester. Most importantly, it gave me the space to be more intentional about self-care. I slept in more often, hung out with other on-campus friends regularly, started a new TV series and got back into crocheting.   

In addition to participating in a few Wintersession workshops–one on knitting, one on embroidery and one session called "Founding Your Deep Tech Startup"–I also was fortunate enough to attend the first Black Women Wellness Retreat hosted by the Our Health Matters (OHM) Club. The OHM is a club focused on the health and wellbeing of Black women on campus. In a world that expects Black women to be endlessly “strong,” this all expenses paid retreat gave me the room to be honest about how I was honestly doing and what I needed:

After tasty breakfast pastries provided by The Gingered Peach, a local Black woman-owned business, we took a chartered bus to Skytop Lodge, located in the Poconos Mountains. The Lodge itself was stunning, it had rich, velvety carpets, tall windows with lots of natural sunlight and really unique furniture. The room I stayed in had ample space, as well as its own walk-in closet, full bathroom and outdoor patio. During the retreat, our time was spent doing everything from playing ping pong to making vision boards, to talking about our experiences with dating on campus.

 

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Magazine cutouts for vision board collage

I do not share any of this to brag. As a lower-income student, I’d never stepped foot near a ski lodge before, yet this retreat afforded me that experience as a means to promote my self care. I share this experience with you, because it is important that Black women are seen engaging in self-care, indulging in high-quality experiences and supporting each other.  

At the end of the day, I am reminded of this quote from Audre Lorde, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” As a Black person, I must remind myself of this every day. As a woman of color, I must remind myself of this every day. As all of the the things I am–lower-income, first-generation and a Black Muslim woman trying to navigate an elite institution–it is imperative that I strive closer and closer to a future where my self care is no longer negotiable in my schedule but the norm. 

What about you? How has your self-care journey been going? I’d love to know!


ASL and Deaf Studies at Princeton


Princeton has taken significant efforts to expand its American Sign Language (ASL) offerings in recent years. ASL was first offered for credit in 2018 through the Program in Linguistics. Beginning in spring 2021, ASL counts towards the fulfillment of the language requirement. I hope the expansion of the ASL program shows the importance of ASL and encourages more students to take the language.

I first learned ASL when I took LIN 205: A Survey of American Sign Language in the fall. This class is for students who do not know ASL and serves as an introduction to the language. It was really wonderful to learn ASL from faculty member Noah Buchholz, who is Deaf and a native speaker of ASL. Now, I can have basic conversations in ASL. Many students in the class had never been exposed to ASL before, but now we all can recognize introductory vocabulary and we understand more about grammar and syntax. I’m also pretty positive that LIN205 was one of the first classes for most students that directly discussed Deafness and disability, and I think students really benefited from learning about these topics.

Now, I am in LIN215: American Deaf Culture, which is being taught for the first time this semester. While Professor Buchholz teaches this class in ASL, students do not need to have any knowledge of the language. Instead, this class is about Deaf culture, as the name suggests, which encompasses history, civil rights, literature and more. It’s so exciting to have a class dedicated to Deaf studies in a way that contextualizes the Deaf experience. I’m looking forward to learning more about Deafness in the past and present.

For years, ASL has been one of the fastest-growing languages taught on college campus today. Additionally, people with disabilities are the largest minority group in the world, which makes it even more essential that Princeton students with and without disabilities learn more how disability impacts the world around them. In the future, I hope that Princeton offers even more classes about ASL, Deaf studies, and disability studies.


Being Muslim at Princeton: A First-Time Experience


Truthfully, when I came to Princeton, I was not expecting to meet people who looked like me. I expected to be the outsider, other, visually and actually different from the rest. At my high school, that was all I knew. I was the only hijab-wearing Muslim out of over 800 students, and often the only Black person or girl in my advanced math and science courses. 

At my high school, I took the initiative to co-found the Muslim Students Association, or MSA for short. Our first couple years were a struggle to stabilize the group. The MSA never had more than four or five students during any given year. My experience of founding my school’s MSA opened my eyes to the reality of being Muslim at a predominately white institution: that experience is often isolating. But it also taught me the strength provided by community. 

Coming to Princeton, though, was a different story. Yes, I met people from all over the world, from Germany to Canada, and from Kenya to China, but I also met people just like me. I met people from California, my home state, and people from the Yoruba tribe, my tribe. Most meaningfully, I met people from my faith, Islam. A. WHOLE. GROUP. OF. THEM.

Let me set the scene for you: around noon, I walked into the gorgeous Murray-Dodge Hall and was greeted by Muslim peers. There was not just one type of “Muslim.” There were hijab-wearing Muslims and non-hijab-wearing ones, there were Muslims from a wide variety of American states and various countries across the world. THERE WERE PEOPLE MY AGE! STUDENTS! Students that I could talk to about the Quran, or about being a neuroscience concentrator, about hadith or about Hoagie Haven.

This was huge for me, considering I had an inconsistent Muslim community back home that mainly consisted of older women and their young children. Performing Jummah salat, an Islamic congregational prayer held every Friday, had become an action I did on autopilot, without really connecting with those around me. Going to Jummah for the first time at Princeton, though, thoroughly altered my notion of what Muslim representation can look like on an academic campus: being Muslim at a predominately white institution did not have to feel isolating, in fact, it could feel quite enriching and enjoyable.

Though Princeton's MSA has given me a community of people who I can relate to on a religious level, I would be remiss if I did not address the concept of homogeneity. While I do not think that living and staying solely in a community that looks entirely like you is a rewarding way to go through life, I think that there is much that can be gained from finding a small group of people with shared identities inside of a larger community that is diverse. These sort of small groups provide room for relatability without the echo chambers common in complete homogeneity. They provide a respite from day-to-day experiences without becoming a place that criticizes you for differences. 

Princeton’s MSA has shown me that same strength I first discovered, multiplied. Though it is still growing and expanding, the Princeton MSA has further exemplified how tightly a community can come together, especially after sorrowful events like the passing of Imam Sohaib.  I am looking forward to continuing my experience of Religious Life at Princeton, and I encourage you to explore the various religious groups on campus.