Tati R.

If you’re reading this, I am PROUD of you. 

If you are seeing this, then you’ve probably drunk your fourth or fifth Celsius for the week. I know, I  know, Bryson Tiller can only push you to work so far. 

This letter is dedicated to the first-generation student who feels the pressure of the world on top of them— the pressure to make their families proud. This letter is dedicated to the girls, guys, and those who identify otherwise who feel like they are still fighting every day to prove themselves. Breathe, center yourself, remember you are seen, and we are proud of you. 

Since day one, and I literally mean fresh out the car, I knew my Duke experience would be special. I felt  like I had to carry out the dreams of every ancestor before me who didn’t have this opportunity. I was this  image of Black excellence, as quoted by my high school friends, except I didn’t feel excellent; I just knew  that not a lot of people looked like me, talked like me, or dressed like me. 

To be fair, I grew up in South Florida, and I’m probably biased, but we are probably the most diverse community in the United States. The point is, all I know is that college was a culture shock. It was this  bubble of a lot of people who didn’t look like me, and when people don’t look the same, there’s this  tendency to group them together–group their experiences as if every experience of a person of color  was the same, group their likes, their wants, and their needs as if we were all the same. 

Except I wasn’t Black enough to fit in with the Black Student Alliance, or in certain spaces, I was too Black. I was the girl who had never eaten cornbread in her life, but I looked like I was supposed to know what cornbread tasted like. I was the girl who would accidentally slip and say pero like, when it simply required a but like. I was that girl that could say she’s seen things and experienced things that others had said  they’ve never seen. Florida South is not Southern South. I was an outsider in what was supposed to be my community and an outsider in the general Duke community; for me, college was the beginning of  learning what it meant to be me and to love me. 

So, to the girls, and the guys, and all who may identify otherwise, if you understand where I’ve been, then  this is for you. This is the hug that tells you that you are exactly where you are meant to be. The embrace  that reminds you that you are perfectly imperfect in the body you are in, and it is your shared experience  that makes you who you are today. Maya Angelou once said: 

It's in the reach of my arms 

The span of my hips, 

The stride of my step, 

The curl of my lips. 

I'm a woman 

Phenomenally. 

So, remember that it’s in the reach of your arms. The dent in your hip. The weight and dreams of your  ancestors that echo within the march of your step. And, the whispers of experience, of home, and of  culture, that flow from your lips. That’s what makes you you, and ever so phenomenally. Remember that,  love that, and know that the right spaces will make you fit. Don’t ever stop fighting, warriors don’t surrender, and most importantly, know that we see you and we are proud of you. 

And p.s. drinking a Celsius every day is probably not healthy babes ♡. 

Tati R, Duke University

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