A college dormitory is no place for seclusion – it is a shared space that, even behind closed doors, is never truly private. They are communal spaces; we commune in each other’s joys and struggles, all in a centralized place. Of course, over time, groups and communities diffuse to other places like libraries, clubs, and cafes, yet every night, we all return to that same familiar place to take our rest. We let down our guards as we burn the midnight oil, unwind, and prepare together, some knowingly, others unaware, for the next fight that awaits us.
What we all define as the next fight manifests in different ways. Perhaps it is the big test, showing solidarity to a cause or a friend, confessing your feelings to that one person that’s stuck in your mind, or even just getting on to the next day. We all deal with our fights differently. Some succeed, and some don’t. But some get more publicized than others.
Swarthmore is a highly selective college. Those who go here are qualified, no doubt. But it seems like wherever you look, others have climbed a mountain in comparison to you. On my floor, there are several varsity athletes, an organizer for an international climate justice movement, the founder of a (now) national nonprofit to overturn wrongful convictions, and many more people of merit. Imposter syndrome is highly contagious at many institutions across the United States, but the small nature of Swarthmore intensifies these feelings, especially for first-years getting their footing.
Within the chaos, it is extremely easy to fall into the trap of believing that you are not doing enough, or, even worse, believing that you are unworthy of being in the same place and a fraud. One would begin to question what they did to get admitted, and so begins a death spiral that is hard to get out of. These start to manifest in the idea that your own fight does not matter, that clearly it is not enough.
We all have our own fight. It is all a matter of others caring about it and supporting it, including ourselves. We go to doctors to help cure or at least mitigate our pains, instead of avoiding them because it isn’t terminal yet. All good fights start at the micro level. We just need the strength and the support to pursue them. Especially in this growing world where hate and fear rise and spread faster and faster, there remains no more room for apathy and indifference to reside.
Despite the globalization of trade, information, peoples, and beliefs, there now rises a reactionary movement that seeks to revert it. With its rise, a globalization of indifference came with it.
It doesn’t matter if your next-door neighbor is famous or has done something great. What you care about is the north star in which you can do great things. We need more people who care to enact change in this world, no matter who the person starting it is. The first step is all that matters. Inaction is worse than an initial stumble at the starting line or a late start. There’s no waiting for good to come to receive it on a silver platter, but we must manifest and cook it for ourselves and later commune for the rest to share.
Yes, the college dormitory is small and compact. One may feel like a small fish in a big pond. But a community shares each of its members’ experiences with each other, synthesizing them into a tapestry, a story they have written together. But for the story to have been created, we need authors to write them. Some have already written their part. But there are many empty pages left to be written. Whether it is from the micro level by just getting through the day, or on a larger scale starting a new movement, every fight matters. Everyone in the community is worth something. It’s a matter of showing your beauty to the world…impostor syndrome be damned.
