I’ll never forget that moment.
It was admit weekend, the activities fair, and I was swimming in smiles and free candy.
The world seemed an open book before my feet, but something was off. I knew Stanford’s faculty was unmatched, its students were some of the most impressive in the world, and that a guarantee of four incredible years was only a gong-hit away. But I just couldn’t commit. Something was holding me back. Something had to be missing from this sun-bathed masterpiece of red roofs and rally gear; something just didn’t feel right.
Then, from just yards away, came the cries that made me a Cardinal. “Wake up!” they shouted, “Stanford funds oppression!”
My heart leapt in my chest. A grin spread across my face. My ears perked, and tears welled in my eyes as I gazed up at the sky. Could this be it? Had I finally found my home for the next four years? I genuinely thought I was going to commit to Brown- they were founded by a slave owner, after all. But a school that actively funds systemic subjugation?
One that pays for colonialist oppression?
One whose executive board is probably out right now insulting the disadvantaged on the streets, just for kicks?
I raced toward the gong, and rang it with all my heart. Then suddenly, crowds of future classmates ran to join me.
They too had heard the good news of Stanford’s unethical practices, and decided there was nowhere else they wanted to be. We jumped, hugged, and shouted in joy as word of 2019’s high commitment rate spread.
The sun beamed down as the laughs came in waves, and we basked in the joy of our tyrannically unjust future home.
