As a senior, pauses for reflection are now few and far in between. So when thinking about how I am Transy, I think of home — not only because of the fact that I went to a small-town high school or because the Transy bubble fosters a community, but because of the fact that this institution allowed me to study my roots and learn at the same time.
I am rewarded for being here at Transy in spite of the heavy-laden hardships my personal home has gone through, and I am applauded for excelling at my studies that led me to a path I am passionate about. Transy fosters a home for intellectual thoughts that transcends the limits of a four-year adventure. The thoughts that fill our minds, our laptops, our notebooks and all those random scraps of paper will remain with us forever. And that constant stream of actuality is what makes me Transy — my thoughts, my addition to the academic community and my ventures with campus engagement.
To borrow a famous stanza formula from none other than Mr Langston Hughes: I, too, am Transy, because as a woman of color, I am here not as a number, but rather as a person willing to flourish within the realm of rigor. I, too, am Transy, because of the books the library so graciously added to the catalog that I requested for future students and that will remain for classes to come. I, too, am Transy, because of the smile on my face when I see Ms. Shirley and the wave I have to Johnnie that works with housekeeping.
I am Transy.