Every Summer, the Princeton Institute for International and Regional Studies (PIIRS) offers students the unique opportunity to learn from a Princeton professor abroad whilst earning course credit. The dubbed ‘Global Seminars’ include a range of topics in a range of locations – from Culture and Politics in Vienna to Capitalism in Kenya – all of which allow the student to immerse themselves in the culture of their host country.

This past summer I was afforded the opportunity to attend one of these seminars, A Land of Light and Shadows: Modern Greek Literature and Photography, in Athens, Greece. As both an academic and personal desire, the seminar was a truly unique experience that I am grateful to have been a part of.

Coming to Princeton, one of my main to-dos was to study abroad – it is something that I had been dreaming of for a long time. This was compounded by the fact that I am half Greek, a part of my background that I identify heavily with. Having never had the opportunity to visit the home of my grandparents, I jumped at the opportunity offered by PIIRS. The Global Seminar, apart from appealing to my heritage, also piqued my interest in photography and by extension, how it relates to literature.

The seminar began in early June and spanned until the middle of July. The duration of the seminar allowed for so many opportunities to see and explore Greece, both alone and as a part of the seminar. I was joined by 14 other students as well as Professor Eduardo Cadava and graduate student Anthie Georgiadi. Living and learning together, we created bonds that will last our time at Princeton and even beyond!

One of the core aspects of the seminar was the daily language class taught by Anthie, a native Greek speaker, who introduced us to the Modern Greek language. Although difficult at first, it became progressively easier to pick up as being immersed in the country allowed me to see how the language was spoken. Along with the language class, the seminar taught by Prof. Cadava was held twice a week, where we met and discussed readings relating photography to Greece while exploring the more philosophical aspects of the texts. Some of my favorite discussions revolved around how philosopher Gerhard Richter (we actually met him!) relates photography to death. On a similar note, many of the readings mentioned different areas around Greece, many of which we visited, including Athens, Delphi, Galaxidi, Mycenae, Nafplio and Crete. We were able to explore archaeological ruins, usually privately guided by an actual archeologist!

The other main aspect of the seminar was the weekly photography workshops, where we met with renowned photographers who showcased their work and assigned us projects. This was a truly unique experience since these photographers are experts in their field. Additionally, there was also at least one guest speaker event every week. The speakers ranged from Greece’s former Minister of Culture and Education to artists who worked on activist issues – a truly diverse selection. In short, the guests that contributed to the seminar were nothing short of amazing.

Overall, this past summer was one that I will remember for the rest of my life, for many, many reasons. To any student, current or prospective, I strongly encourage participation in a PIIRS global seminar – it is an opportunity that you cannot miss. I am truly humbled to be a part of the Princeton community and have access to such unique and impactful opportunities.

For the spring semester of my junior year, I studied abroad at Hertford College, Oxford University (blog post to come). While this was a welcome change of environment and pace, I did find myself missing various aspects of Princeton, especially when faced with the prospect that I would only have one year left in the orange bubble when I returned. In the hopes that you take advantage of all the wonderful things Princeton has to offer before you become a senior, here are some of the things I missed the most about Princeton while abroad.

1. Coffee Club
   • As someone who loves (or needs, rather) coffee and frequents Coffee Club at least once every other day, if not more, I missed my vanilla matchas and the anticipation  of a new array of drinks with the change of seasons. Admittedly, good coffee shops exist all over the world, but Coffee Club stands out to me in the way that it features students in the managerial and customer service aspect, but also in the live performances by student artists. 
2. Classes/Lectures
   • This is something that is pretty specific to Oxford, which is that visiting students have optional lectures and instead spend most of their week writing a 2,000 word essay (if you’re a humanities student) that you discuss in an one hour “tutorial” every week. Though I really appreciated the flexibility that this presented, I also missed the hustle and bustle of Princeton during hours of the day when people have class. Tutorials for visiting students were also offered one-on-one which definitely allowed me to challenge my learning for the week, but I missed bouncing my ideas off of my peers. 
3. Murray Dodge Cookies
   • The students who work at Murray Dodge bake cookies and have them available as snacks all throughout the day, which is an experience pretty unique to Princeton and something I thus missed a lot. There is nothing quite like walking back from the library and making a quick pit stop at Murray Dodge for a late night snack. 

Ultimately, I enjoyed my semester abroad very much. I felt very supported by Princeton but also by the program I was a part of, and made great friends and pushed myself out of my comfort zone in ways that I had not imagined I would. I felt challenged academically and feel more prepared than ever to write my senior thesis. However, coming back to Princeton has reminded me of all the little things that make Princeton feel like home. I hope you make the most of your time here, I know I will.

“Have you made any friends yet?”

That was the million-dollar question on everyone’s mind. Over the summer, I interned at the American Chamber of Commerce in Taiwan through Princeton's International Internship Program (IIP). While I had lived alone, I had usually stayed at a student residence where it was easy to make friends. This time I was truly on my own.

Unsurprisingly, every time I called my mom, she wanted to know how I was doing socially. My parents, my program coordinator, even my coworkers — it was the one question they ended a conversation with. It was also the one question I could not seem to answer. Outside of work, the most social interaction I had was probably with the food stand owner near my apartment — but it’s hard to call someone a friend if the only thing you’ve said to them is “Pork rice with egg, please.”

A couple weeks into my internship, the Princeton Alumni Association of Taiwan invited me to a brunch, and who was I to say no to free food? At the brunch, I sat next to Mai, a sophomore from Thailand who was learning Chinese over the summer. We bonded over wanting to visit Jiufen, a town in northeast Taiwan that looks like the setting of “Spirited Away.” And while I did enjoy a wonderful meal and have great conversations with the alumni, as Mai and I exchanged contacts, I also began to carve out my answer to the question everyone had been asking since I landed.

A week later, we made it to Jiufen, despite almost missing the train there. At the teahouse, we learned the ins and outs of Taiwanese tea ceremony. We learned that you should smell the tea before you drink it. We also learned that a little tea goes a long way — the server told us that one set of tea leaves could make at least 15 cups of tea. Although it seemed doable, we learned that even three hours of pouring, waiting, smelling, and drinking was not enough time to get through it all.

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Under the scorching July sun, we did it all. We watched “Oppenheimer,” putting our Chinese reading skills to the test as the subtitles flashed on the screen. We tried Taiwan’s famous pineapple beer, which was more beer than pineapple.

One night, we went to Dadaocheng to watch the fireworks. We navigated the bus system together (and then the little alleyways after it dropped us off a fair distance away from where we expected). We stood amongst the hoards of people, unsure whether to find a good spot or get a drink first. Although the fireworks show was only a few minutes, we hung out by the pier for hours — by the time I got back to my apartment, the streets were full of people getting their midnight snack.

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For our last adventure, we found ourselves drinking tea on yet another mountain. This time, we were sitting with two old men, who were confused about what a Thai and an Australian were doing together in Taiwan. That seemed to be the second big question of the summer: “How do you two know each other?” The answer to this one was much more convoluted. But, having already explained it a few times to other people, we were much better rehearsed in front of these two men. I’m not sure how much my Chinese reading skills improved, but I definitely became fluent in reciting our origin story.

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This summer, I was faced with two pretty big questions. But after weeks of thinking, here are my final answers — yes, I did make a new friend and as for how we know each other… let's just say 这有点复杂 (it’s a little complicated).

This semester, I had the incredible opportunity to spend seven weeks in Kenya with the Ecology & Evolutionary Biology department’s Semester in the Field program. 

The program involves taking four courses, each for three weeks, in subjects ranging from Biology of African Animals and Ecosystems to Terrestrial Paleoecology (basically trying to understand what ancient ecosystems looked like). Since I went abroad as a senior (most EEB students go abroad during their junior spring), I was there for the first two classes and returned to campus after spring break to finish my thesis. 

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Nothing I could have imagined compared to the feeling of waking up to the sound of birds chirping and monkeys calling to one another right outside my tent every morning. To be so immersed in nature was indescribable. We saw endangered Grevy’s zebras and African wild dogs, of which there are only a few thousand remaining in the world, as well as lions, hyenas, rhinos, and elephants. In the first week alone, we saw 35 different species of mammals! 

The classes I took provided amazing opportunities for hands-on fieldwork. During the first course, we planned, executed, and analyzed data for four complete research projects — in just three weeks! It was definitely fast-paced, but I came out of it with a much greater understanding of the scientific process, and I’m so grateful for the experience. 

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One of the best parts of going to Kenya was the people - the 10 fellow Princeton and Columbia students I traveled with, our professors and TAs, and the Kenyan researchers, staff, and community members we got to know during our stay there. We bonded over trips to overlooks to watch the sunset after a game drive, games of soccer and darts at the research center (which we often lost), and most of all, our climb of Mount Kenya during spring break (I credit the bond between us as the reason we somehow all made it to the summit!). 

Going to Kenya was the best experience of my life so far, and I can’t recommend studying abroad enough. As sad as I was to leave Princeton’s beautiful campus and all my friends there, it was so worth it to get the chance to experience new places, cultures, and ecosystems with such an amazing group of people. If I had one piece of advice for anyone considering studying abroad, it would be to just go! You never know where it can take you. 

 

When I graduated from high school, I was burnt out and needed a change in my life. The decision to take a gap year was never really a question in my mind––my parents were always strong proponents, and I needed a break from academics.  When I first read about the Novogratz Bridge Year Program, I knew that the opportunity to spend nine months abroad (for free) was too good to pass up.  

However, after I applied and received my acceptance letter to the Indonesia program, I felt less sure about my choice.  My anxiety and self-doubts began to emerge, making me second guess whether the Bridge Year Program would be a mistake or not. I would graduate later than my friends, go many months without my family, and live alone in a totally unfamiliar city.  Would it be a waste of time? Would I learn anything? Would I make friends? These questions and doubts filled my mind as the departure date neared. I still remember how scared and unsure I felt during the nights leading up to the trip, and the queasy feeling in my stomach as we drove to campus for the pre-departure orientation.  

I started Bridge Year with full-on imposter syndrome and anxiety. Like many incoming first-years, I felt inadequate compared to my incredibly accomplished peers and worried about insignificant things that I had no control over. I was insecure, and the other students in my cohort seemed much more mature, intelligent, and well-spoken. In those first few weeks, I kept quiet during group discussions, journaled a lot, and over-thought nearly every word that came out of my mouth.  

The first month of Bridge Year Indonesia was reserved for orientation and short-term travel. We spent this initial month traveling through Sumatra. Everything was still new and exciting, but as this month began to wind down and our move-in day to Jogja grew nearer, I felt incredibly anxious about meeting my long-term homestay family.  I remember confiding in Umi, one of our on-site staff members, the morning before we were introduced to our families. As we sat on the porch of our hotel–sipping tea and listening to the adzan (call to prayer) in the background–I nervously listed off my fears and hesitations about meeting my homestay family.  I was worried about communicating with them with my limited Indonesian, making a good first impression, and whether I could live up to their relationship with the previous student. I was told that my homestay family was especially religious–the father was an Imam–and I worried about what they would think of my Jewish beliefs and identity. Umi reassured me that they were a perfect match for me, and not to worry. This didn’t do much to reassure me at the time, and I spent the rest of the morning pacing and stressing.  

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I won't lie, that first week in the homestay was quite an adjustment. My family did not speak any English, so we struggled to communicate, and I was exhausted from feeling the need to constantly ‘perform’ around them. But after just a month or two, I felt infinitely more relaxed. As I continued to grapple with anxiety and imposter syndrome, my homestay family became a true source of comfort and relaxation. We found ways to communicate with my still-limited Indonesian skills, and I began to prioritize spending more time at home with them. 

Reflecting on it now, four years out of Bridge Year, my homestay family was the best part of my experience. They each taught me so much, and I am so grateful for the generosity and unconditional love that they showed me. There are so many moments that I wouldn’t trade for the world: watching movies on the porch with my homestay brothers, karaoke Bon Jovi with Ibu and Ayah (my homestay parents), visiting my homestay sister in the hospital after she gave birth, Ibu’s disapproving looks when I bleached my hair, and learning Arabic at the Mosque with Ayah. They had an incredibly influential impact on me during this transitional moment in my life when I was just beginning to define my values, relationships, and career trajectory.  

While re-reading my journals and reflecting upon Bridge Year, I realized that the community I found in my homestay enabled the growth I experienced that year. While I was feeling anxious, inadequate, and inexperienced compared to my Princeton peers, my homestay showed me acceptance, self-love, and compassion. I never thought that I would call Indonesia home, or consider non-relatives part of my family, but over the course of nine months, that is exactly what ended up happening.  

Today, more than four years after the program, I am endlessly grateful for Bridge Year. The personal growth that I underwent shaped who I am today in countless ways. Bridge Year taught me many skills and lessons, but above all, it helped me develop more self-confidence. I know it sounds cliche, but I gained so much confidence in myself and my abilities. Continuously getting pushed outside of my comfort zone forced me to grow in ways that I still struggle to verbalize. I am of course still in contact with my family today, and I am returning to Yogyakarta this summer as part of the Streicker International Fellows Program to intern at an architecture firm. Although I am still unsure about what my future post-grad will be, I am hoping to move to Indonesia again and start my career there. If I had the chance to speak to the pre-Bridge Year version of myself, or anyone considering the program, I would say: absolutely take the leap; the lessons you will learn about yourself, the world, and your place within it will be invaluable and unforgettable. 

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Warm weather, fresh croissants and my trusty copy of Plato’s Republic: Perfection. This summer, I had the privilege of taking Professor Morison’s famous philosophy course, Plato in Paris. Mid-June, I eagerly set out for Charles de Gaulle airport along with ten other classmates. After adjusting to the initial jetlag, we were enthusiastic to begin our deep dive into "The Republic". The daily voyage from our Cité Universitaire housing to the École Normale Supérieure, where class was held, consisted in a two-stop trip along Paris’s RER B line. We spent between three to six hours in class each day. In class, we would discuss the text in small fragments, ultimately achieving a thorough understanding of Plato’s complex argument. By the conclusion of the course, we had spent over 90 hours exploring "The Republic". In addition to these conversations, we were lucky to receive guest lectures from Parisian scholars of Plato. During the regular school year, it’s difficult to find time for philosophic reflection amid a busy schedule, other coursework, and additional commitments. The unique circumstances of the Plato in Paris, however, created an environment in which all participants were solely devoted to the communal project of understanding this text together. I think all students would benefit greatly to have an academic experience such as this.

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In addition to the many insights on Platonic philosophy I acquired inside the classroom, I also encountered equally enriching experiences outside the classroom. The course featured many excursions, including a Louvre trip, a river cruise and a visit to the top of the Eiffel Tower. During my six week stay in Paris, I grew familiar with the layout and geography of Paris’s 20 arrondissements. In addition to participating in Princeton sponsored excursions, my classmates and I took full advantage of our unique opportunity to explore the city on our own. We often held picnics along the brink of the Seine river or in front of the Eiffel Tower.

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Eager to see more of the country, a small group of classmates ventured to the South of France for a weekend excursion. Admittingly, I had to push down the overwhelming sense of nausea as we traveled on France’s 200mph TGV bullet trains. During our time navigating between Aix-en-Provence, Cassis, Marseille and Lyon, we were able to meet other Princeton students completing International Internship Programs (IIP) for the summer. We even visited the French beaches! I was able to build a wonderful sense of community with my peers over the time we spent together in France. After returning to Princeton in the fall, I happily encounter the smiling faces of my new friends. I loved every moment of this course, and it has inspired me to continue studying philosophy at Princeton!

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If you’re a prospective student, you may have heard of the (in)famous senior thesis—a year-long independent project that incorporates original research, relating to your field of study. In my department, that often means a research paper on a form of literature, but there is a lot of freedom and seniors often choose creative and fun themes. 

I still have several months to go on my own thesis, but I’ve just returned from my research trip and would like to share my experience. I went to Czech Republic, visited the central depository for the National Literary Archives, and viewed original manuscripts and other writings.  

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The first step in the process was to find an adviser—and a topic. From the beginning, I knew I wanted to focus on an author from Eastern Europe. Back in high school, I had applied to Princeton specifically because the Slavic Languages & Literatures department here offered more than just Russian language. During my time here, I’ve taken three different Slavic languages (Russian, Czech and Bosnian-Croatian-Serbian). With the help of my adviser, I decided on Czech author Ladislav Fuks.  

Next, I had to apply for funding for my research. Using the University’s funding engine, I described my topic and proposed research. The University granted me the money to pay for my plane tickets, lodging, local transportation and meals. 

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Then, of course, came the trip! I flew from Denver International Airport in my home state of Colorado to Prague. I then traveled to the city of Litoměřice in north Czechia, where the central depository was located. I stayed in a small apartment I rented over Airbnb that was close enough to walk to my work site. Each day, I walked to the depository and signed in. The amazing director of the Litoměřice archives spoke with me about my research and brought me boxes of material from the depository. In the research room, I sorted through hundreds of folios in the boxes to find papers and writings that would be useful to my research. I scanned and saved those that I could use, and repeated the process over the two weeks of my stay until I had gone through all of the material. 

I’m now back on campus, and am excited to start writing my thesis. I feel lucky to have a real, independent archival research experience as an undergrad. The senior thesis might seem scary, but when you hit upon a topic you’re passionate about, the process can actually be a lot of fun!

Home to me is Buenos Aires, capital of (world-champion in football) Argentina. So studying abroad is, technically, nothing new to me— I’ve been “studying abroad” since the first day of Princeton’s international orientation. Yet, the summer school I did through Princeton in Italy was one of the best experiences of my life. 

During the school year, my Italian class professor, Anna Cellinese, a woman who speaks with her hands and conceives wine as religion, along side our co-instructor Luca Zipoli, began promoting the idea of taking a summer course in Italy’s Tuscany. It didn’t take long to convenience me, and soon enough I was on an airplane on my way to Pisa. 

Known for its tilting tower and vibrant youth life, Pisa’s beauty captivated my eyes immediately. The city felt lively and awake, but breathed the same slow-burnt pace of life of most Italian towns. Our home was the Scuola Normale Superiore, one of Italy’s most renowned universities, famous for its academic rigor and residential life. Our dorms were great and had stunning views to Pisa’s Piazza dei Cavalieri. My roommate, Sara, and I would wake up to a sun-kissed room of fresh air, and we’d begin our days singing, dancing and jumping from bed to bed while listening to the Mamma Mia album. 

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Residential life aside, the class was also fun and incredibly engaging. We had literary lessons about old books like Dante’s Inferno and more modern texts like Tondelli’s Altri Libertini. There were also classes about contemporary issues in Italy, where we learned about the immigration crisis, the concept of beauty and the idea of arts as an urban lung. 

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But what was the best thing about the program? The out-of-the-classroom learning experience. The course stepped beyond the university campus and onto the city's historical, cultural and gastronomical landmarks. We had a class sitting on a public park once, we went to a gallery that had a comic-centered exhibition about immigration, we interviewed figures like the city’s governor, and we even had a cooking class and a wine-tasting evening! Learning was happening through our five senses as we explored the 360-dregrees of Italy. 

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On a personal note, a meaningful takeaway from the trip were the moments I had with my bike. I got it second-hand during the first week, and I’d use it to get to the beach every day after class. It was a countryside bike path that traversed sunflower fields, the parallel-running Arno river, old castles and distant mountains. I’d sit on the rocky Mediterranean beaches for hours, with ink and notebook to my side. I ended up finding my love for journaling, writing and poetry! 

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My experience traveling abroad with the University through Princeton in Pisa couldn’t have been any more impactful. It left a trace in my hobbies, my identity, my notions about beauty, time, culture and love. 

During fall break, I had the opportunity to travel to Greece with the Humanities Sequence. After dedicating much time and energy during our first year at Princeton to the rigorous reading schedule and thought-provoking discussions of the HUM Sequence, my peers and I were ecstatic to pursue our individual research questions during our sequence sponsored fall break trip to Athens.

Upon arriving in Greece, I was struck by the extraordinary view of the Acropolis from my hotel room balcony. Our days were filled with guided tours, museum trips and excursions. While we spent most of the break in Athens, we were lucky enough to venture out to visit the Archeological Site of Delphi and to swim in the Aegean Sea at Nafplio.

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During my research day in Greece, I visited the Parthenon and the Acropolis Museum. I came to Greece hoping to study the Parthenon Marbles and to get a sense of Greek opinion on the marbles’ ownership debate. I cannot fully describe the sense of awe that flooded me when I finally arrived at the Parthenon. As a Classics student studying Greek, I found myself trying to translate every ruin I saw. This trip held extreme significance for me, and I was moved by the museums, ruins, sites and the homes of the authors whom I have dedicated myself to studying at Princeton.

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On the flight back to campus, I remember reflecting on the entire experience. I was overwhelmed by an extreme sense of gratitude––for the opportunity to travel to Greece, for the hospitality of the Greek people and mostly for the community fostered by the HUM sequence. The HUM sequence has been a defining element of my experience at Princeton, and I highly recommend that anyone who has an interest in the humanities or literature consider it. While abroad, I grew closer to my classmates and professors. Later this week we will all come together and present our projects from the trip.

Bridge Year is often seen as a magical experience where students are able to take a year off to travel the world on Princeton’s dime. That’s how I saw it. I was convinced about the opportunity to learn and grow by being immersed in the culture. Plus, I wanted to take advantage of a free travel opportunity and get out of the confines of New Jersey, especially after feeling senior year burnout. And part of me desperately needed time to figure out more about who I was– Princeton was offering that opportunity. 

For some students, Bridge Year is the ultimate highlight of their Princeton experience. For others, not so much. Despite its glowing reviews, Bridge Year isn’t always sunshine and happy memories, yet those are the memories often communicated. The expansive and fast-paced nature of the program allows students to focus on the highlights. The program is broken into short-term travel (at the beginning, over Winter break, and the final month) which allows you to rapidly immerse yourself in different cultures and learn more about the history of the place you are in. Our group traveled to Indonesia on the shores of Banyuwangi, through the farms of Flores, up to the peak of Dieng, to the waterfalls of Sumba and more. Then for the majority of the program, my group and I lived in Jogja with our own individual homestay families, interned at an NGO, took language classes, attended speaker events or activities put on by the staff members, and took an extracurricular class that was rooted in some aspect of Indonesian culture (mine was silversmithing). At my NGO, I attended different events surrounding children's rights and assisted with research surrounding sex trafficking— a heavy yet important experience. Beyond all of those activities, I was free to explore the city and myself. 

 

Because of the freedom to explore, many students on the trip face identity conflicts. In all fairness, identity conflict is a part of life. Bridge Year’s program design allows students to have time to reflect deeply on themselves, accelerating identity conflict and growth. Without academic rigor and structure, our brains can run free to think critically and deeply about ourselves. With the right support, this can be healthy. 

For me, I struggled with being visibly brown: I am a first-generation Bangladeshi-American and a Muslim. Growing up, my hometown is known to be “accepting, diverse, and liberal,” but lacked a significant South Asian or Muslim population. As one of the few, I learned to compartmentalize the subtle racism and Islamophobia I faced to keep moving forward. 

 

Bridge Year forced me to unpack all of it.  Every day, I was forced to confront my identity because of other people. Instead of compartmentalizing, I had time to think about it. 

At the start of the trip, whenever someone mentioned Islam, my group turned to me. At first, I was happy to fill in the gaps in their knowledge, but it soon hurt to hear their misconceptions about our traditions and beliefs.

As we settled into our long-term homestays, I felt pressure from the rest of the community. Taxi drivers would always question where I came from, to the point where my group and I had a running joke: to answer with random places around the world. At events, locals would often question my identity– “Is she really American?” and only dropped the subject when my white peers spoke up for me. Sometimes, local Indonesians didn’t bother to include me among my peers. I learned to stand in the middle of the group to avoid being cut off at doors and in lines. Other times, people asked if I was the instructor’s daughter, despite us bearing no resemblance besides our skin tone. Further, I was constantly offered whitening soaps and products. Everyone I interacted with had some opinion on my skin, which took away from my agency in how I viewed my heritage and identity. 

Yet these reactions came with perks. I could blend in more easily than my peers, avoiding scams and harassment– as long as I kept my mouth shut. As a Muslim, I felt another degree of connection to homestay families whenever they had a communal prayer. Despite these benefits, I fixated on the negative experiences, as is natural. Eventually, I grew to hate being brown. 

Seeking help never felt obvious. The advising resources provided by Princeton were in a completely different time zone and I didn’t feel like a real Princeton student or someone who could access those resources. In Indonesia, my instructors could not relate to my specific experience as a non-Indonesian woman of color. Instead, they asked me to bring it up to my group mates in order to find the support I needed, placing an undue burden on the other students, who were each struggling in their own ways to navigate our new environment. 

Near the end of my experience, I read a book entitled, “The Good Immigrant.” After hearing other POC narratives surrounding discrimination in a new environment, I finally felt seen and heard. During a group meeting, I used this book and critical race theory via presentation to explain my experience to my peers. Hours later, we received notice that we were being sent home due to the COVID-19 pandemic. In the rush to leave that followed, neither my peers nor I had time to process our thoughts on race. 

At home, I journaled a lot, especially since I had to quarantine. That summer held major events that helped me heal from the trauma of Bridge Year– America reckoned with race, and Never Have I Ever, one of the few TV shows that centers on a brown girl, debuted its first season on Netflix.

 

After two years, I have come to terms with my experience. It was painful to grapple with my identity,  yet my struggles have prepared me for almost all environments. I have run the gamut of different ways in which I, as a brown girl, will be perceived. Further, I have now intentionally cultivated undying self-respect and love for my skin tone, and by extension, my heritage. I am grateful to have had the experience now, to have reckoned with my race and come to an understanding now, rather than have bottled up the insecurity for the future. My experiences on Bridge Year, even the ugly ones, have allowed me to be a much more mature and confident individual in the spaces  I occupy. I am lucky to have that resolve. 

Not everyone will have the same experiences I had, even if you fit the same description of a brown Muslim girl. But I wish I had heard this dialogue before going on the trip so that I knew I wasn’t the only one experiencing it. As a pre-frosh on Bridge Year, it’s daunting to navigate resources, send emails, or speak up about these issues. Thankfully, more avenues to access and promote these resources are being implemented, spearheaded by former students. During the year, there will be Peer Advisors who can connect participants with the correct resources. During the application process, feel free to reach out to a Bridge Year Ambassador with any questions you may have. 

This experience among other ones is what empowered me to become a Bridge Year Ambassador. In that position, I hope to continue to inform the next generation of students about the complex ways in which different students navigate the experience. I hope that I can make the experience more supportive for future students without discouraging them from considering attending.

In sum, Bridge Year isn’t just a magical experience where you travel to the most beautiful places on earth and end up with a glorious Instagram page. It is a complex, challenging, and meaningful life experience that will shape who you are. That’s what you’re signing up for.