Brinda L.
Photography by Emma Joseph
If you’re reading this, it’s okay to take your time.
I grew up in India, in a culture where relationships are deep, families are close, and community is woven into everyday life. When I decided to come to Wake Forest, it was a big leap—not just geographically, but emotionally too. I wanted a strong academic program, yes, but also a place where I could grow, find my people, and expand what I thought was possible for myself. Still, I didn’t fully realize how different things might feel once I got here.
When I moved here, I expected some culture shock. I expected things to feel different. But what I didn’t expect was how lonely it would feel even when I was included. I’d go to dinners, study groups, and events. Everyone was nice, but something always felt just a little off. I’d laugh at jokes I didn’t find funny, stay quiet when conversations drifted into sports I didn’t grow up with, and wonder if anyone noticed how much I was pretending to keep up.
I wasn’t excluded, but I wasn’t fully included either.
It’s strange because nothing is technically wrong. People are friendly. They mean well. But still, you feel like you’re translating yourself all the time—toning things down, switching phrasing, explaining cultural context, laughing things off. You start thinking maybe it’s easier to say less. Show less. Need less.
And slowly, that turns into isolation.
Not the obvious kind where you’re alone all the time, but the quieter kind, where people surround you but still feel unknown. I started settling for surface-level friendships, telling myself that if I just stayed close enough, long enough, maybe I’d eventually fit in. I’d show up, smile, make conversation, but hold back the parts of me that felt different—just in case they didn’t land. It was a connection, but it never really filled the gap.
But here’s what I’ve learned: feeling out of place after a big change is very normal. It doesn’t mean you’ve made a mistake or that something is wrong with you. It just takes time. Some days are hard. Some days feel better. You start to figure out what makes you feel okay—not just what looks good from the outside.
For me, that meant going back to the things I loved. Music. Reading. Dancing. I stopped trying to constantly adapt and started carving out small routines that felt like mine. Slowly, those routines became anchors. They helped make Wake Forest feel less foreign, less temporary. They reminded me of who I was outside of the pressure to blend in.
If you're reading this and still adjusting—still figuring it out—just know that you don’t have to rush the process. You’re allowed to miss what you left. You’re allowed to feel off. But you're also allowed to build something new that feels more like you.
You don’t have to trade your identity for belonging. The right people will meet you where you are—not where you pretend to be.
You’re not behind. You’re just building something real. And that takes time.
Sincerely,
Brinda L., Wake Forest University
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