My dearest friends, beloved faculty, staff, alumni, honorary degree recipients, and family,
Repeat after me. “This. Is. Our. House.” This is our house. Nervous and filled with
excitement, each one of us stepped foot onto this campus and claimed the ground beneath our
feet to be our house, our home. A home that would mold us into more critical consumers of
knowledge. A home that would teach us not to be complacent with the status quo but to
challenge it with every move we made. A home that also in itself was not perfect- and would
make mistakes and falter, but wanted, so desperately to be a better home for us. And together, in
conversation, contention, and connection to new our home, we would both grow to be better
versions of ourselves. And thus we are here today. Still living, still breathing, still caring for one
another, still challenging one another, still challenging oppressive systems. But we’ve made it
nonetheless.
Four years ago, and for many of us three and two (to my fellow transfers) we were just
accepted into one of the most prestigious institutions in the country, a university committed to
bettering our nation and providing all students, no matter the race, ethnic background, religious
affiliation, sexual orientation or expression, ability or placement in society a ground to come
together and call our home as we grew.
Orientation was filled with upperclasswomen and men (and everyone who doesn’t
conform to the gender binary) who were always happy- why were they so happy? Why were they
yelling!? On the humid August day, dripping with sweat and fatigue after moving my things into
the incredibly beautiful East Quad, I saw a group of Orientation Leaders running like a stampede
towards me and I dropped my bags and started to bolt in the opposite direction. (If you see
people running in your direction, no matter who they are, no matter what you think they want,
don’t question it, just run.) So I was out. But afterwards, I realized they had heard about me from
another OL who helped me move in and wanted to introduce themselves. These people later
became some of my most loving and caring friends- surprise right? After being chased by a
group of strangers, you’d think we’d go throughout of years here, hands shaded over our eyes,
saying to ourselves, “that’s that crazy person who tried to chase me four years ago”. Even though
this story might have made you chuckle, this is also a issue that we need to address not only on
our campus but in our larger society as well.
These OL’s weren’t crazy. That person in class who knew you didn’t do the readings and
looked at you sideways when you thought you were the master making things up on the spot,
wasn’t mean. The student protester fighting for their rights to be seen as a human being, isn’t
ungrateful. It is easy to polarize someone as being solely this and purely that, and many times
we don’t even recognize when we are doing it. It’s more difficult to see the humanity in a person.
It’s more difficult to see things from their perspective. We have all had life experiences that have
shaped who we are, what we do, what choices we make and how we operate in society. But the
key to growth (or as my man DJ Khaled says) the key to success- is to listen with an open heart
and an open mind.
We know, that as the Brandeis community, we have had one of our most difficult years.
And we are still healing. But in that healing we must also create space for critical engagement,
community, and joy. Today is a day of pure joy. Ya’ll we’ve made it.
For many of us, attending Brandeis University was a statement. A statement that we
were ready to speak together, to laugh together, to cry together, and to grow together. Many of us
are coming from backgrounds where attending college wasn’t a given. Where had we not gotten
into Brandeis, there would be nothing left for us to go back to. We have all had to make
sacrifices to come to this beloved university, and stay here until we graduated and can hold up
that degree that tells the world that against all odds, I have an education. And no one can take
what I have learned here, away from me. No one can take away the fact that we have endured, in
every sense of the word just to get to this very day. But with that in mind, we mustn’t forget our
friends who haven’t made it this far. We must use the skills we obtained from Brandeis to build
up our respective communities from which we will eventually return. We must use our degrees
to create a more inclusive world. And that is where the joy is.
Angela Davis, scholar, feminist, author, political activist, as well as Brandeis University
Class of 1965 said, “I am no longer accepting the things I can not change. I am changing the
things I can not accept.” Brandeis taught me to change the things I can no longer accept. And
that is exactly what I am going to do. You are looking at the next city councilwoman, mayor, and
U.S. Senator of CT. Because my community needs someone who grew up in it, saw its flaws and
wants to work to make them better. Whatever your craft is, be it creating art in order to change
our world, representing underserved communities through law, rethinking public health, or
teaching our next generation’s leaders, Brandeis taught us to create the change we want to see in
the world. And being afraid is okay. We are all afraid.
Many of you have seen me running through buildings in heels, on my way to meetings
with President Lynch, Senior Vice President Andrew Flagel, Dean Jamele Adams, Assistant
Dean Monique Gnanaratnam and Assistant Dean Stephanie Grimes, not because it was fun, but
because I knew that my perspective was one that could help our administrators look at a situation
differently. I didn’t become your president because I thought it was cool, or because I wanted to
advance my political career- I decided to become a U.S. Senator because of you all, because of
this work, because I realized how necessary it is to have people of color, especially Black women
in places of power, and how that in itself can shift perspectives and outcomes, and hopefully, in
turn, create more inclusive, intersectional spaces down the line. Do you think I knew what I was
doing during Ford Hall 2015? Every day, I was afraid. Afraid of how my students, my
constituents, my peers would view my work. Afraid of how my place would impact my
relationship with those my senior. Afraid that what I was doing was not what was right. But I had
to remind myself, that what we were fighting for those twelve days, was better home. Just as
Brandeis founders, in 1948 did when creating this institution- they were fighting against all odds,
for a better home.
So be afraid to change the status quo. Be afraid to introduce a new perspective. Be afraid
to fight for what you know is right. Be so afraid that your legs and voice shakes as you speak,
that tears run down your cheeks, and your heart thumps louder than ever before. But don’t let
your fear stop you from taking that step.
We have come a long way my friends. But the journey is never over. Check in with each
other even after we graduate. This transition can be the hardest for many of us. A professor once
told me, “it is your job to make sure that both you and the person next to you succeeds”. Now is
the time. The state of this nation is in our hands. This world is OUR HOUSE. So claim it.
With Love,
Nyah K. Macklin