Monica Gu

At Columbia, you’d be hard-pressed to find any woman afraid to call herself a feminist.

My fall semester as a sophomore has been plagued by one incessant concern: choosing my major. Or majors (plural), or maybe a major with a concentration. I initially came to Columbia thinking that I would major only in one subject: political science. But when my first class registration appointment rolled around, few classes in that department were still open. So, on a whim, I registered for an American history class, and by the end of the semester, I had decided that I would double major in history and political science.

My first Latin American Politics discussion class gave me food for thought—literally. “Let’s start by introducing ourselves,” said the teaching assistant. “Why don’t you say your name, year, school, and… favorite Latin American food?”

Recently, after I jumped into conversation with someone I didn’t know on our way to class, my friend said to me, “You talk to strangers so easily.”

This past summer, I walked into the Art Institute of Chicago, presented my CUID for the student discount on admission, and strolled through the wide main entrance. It was my first time in the museum, but my steps were purposeful. Although not of a European background myself, I marched right past the Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Indian, Himalayan, African, and Native American art, all of it, and into everything Western.

There's a colloquial term used among our generation that I find both hilarious and depressing, a term that'll become all too relevant to the Class of 2020 as we edge closer and closer to November: "turkey dump."