My 21st birthday and scarcely a mention of alcohol

I am deliriously happy to be turning 21 at Duke University. Here, I am blessed with incredible friends, a community that accepts me for who I am and more resources than I know what to do with. I am studying at one of the best universities in the United States of America. I can take part in any one of a million different clubs and activities. I am living, laughing and bombing computer science exams alongside some of the brightest minds in the nation. I am at the happiest and most content point that I have ever been in my entire life. 

Turning 21 is normally one of those high points, and perhaps the most self-indulgent birthday of a young person’s life. For the next 800 words, I’d like to give a nod to tradition and be selfish. I’d like to talk about how and why I ended up here, the incredible people that made it happen and how it feels to be 21 at Duke. 

First, I have to acknowledge all of the advantages I was given and all of the privilege I’ve received as a result of that. I am a white, straight, cisgender male. I grew up in a household that valued education immensely. I can count on one hand the amount of times my parents didn’t buy me the new book I wanted to read, and they also trusted me to do my own thing and to explore. They gave me room to flourish. And the teachers in the school district that I attended from K-12 were similarly supportive—I remember my third grade teacher, Mr. Kelly, always saying great things about me (along with a LOT of sass). I remember Mrs. Wolford making a deal to allow me to read during class as long as I was getting As on her tests. I grew up with a roof over my head, food in the fridge and with the burning desire to prove myself. 

That’s not to say that my young life was hallmarked by ease nor that I was sheltered from difficult situations. When I was 11, my mom was deployed to Kuwait as a part of the U.S. Army Reserves, while my dad worked full time. Later that year, out of nowhere, my older sister contracted viral encephalitis, suffered extensive brain damage, and was in a coma for around a month. When my mom flew back home because of my sister’s critical condition, my feelings of joy from being reunited were overshadowed by worry for my sister. A month or so later, my dad started having heart problems and I again watched a family member ride in an ambulance to the emergency room. 

Then, there were the less tangible problems. I was incredibly awkward and had poor social skills, but I was also cocky and had trouble thinking of anyone else besides myself. I was anxious in virtually every situation. In school, I was terrified of screwing things up, of being made fun of, even when I was in the most mundane situations, like waiting in the lunch line. On the outside, though, I was one of the most self-assured kids in my school. I took great pride in my childhood soccer skills and in my elementary and middle-school prowess. I was insufferable and merciless with anyone that disagreed with me. 

Fortunately, reading a massive amount of books, and spending way too much time on the Internet allowed me to be exposed to different opinions and ways of life outside of my small town, rural, lower-middle class life. I began to dream big. First, I thought I’d be a pro soccer player, then an astrophysicist, then a programmer, then a neurologist. None of my teachers nor my family members ever crushed my naive dreams. In my junior and senior years of high school, I realized that I had a shot to go to a good college. I was academically inclined. I got good grades. I had good projected scores on my standardized tests. But I had few role models. My town is made up of around 800 people. There had only been a handful of students from my school in the past ten years at top colleges. I had no idea how to achieve the goal that I set for myself: I was running blind.

I spent hours of time on the Internet, scouring College Confidential to learn how to get into the nations’ best universities. I applied to 21 schools (with the help of fee waivers) that offered the best financial aid, because I knew my parents couldn’t afford to pay for my college education. I set up a GoFundMe to help me pay to visit Duke, and once I arrived, I decided that it was the greatest place ever.

On a whim, I decided to apply to a program called Global Citizen Year. I got in, decided to defer my enrollment at Duke, and spent eight months living and interning in India. I better learned how to navigate social spaces. I garnered an incredible amount of empathy. I learned how to deal with being away from home.