I really like to think and learn about how the world works; it is fun to me. But I also prefer to do what comes easily to me. In fourth grade, I learned that schoolwork was tedious. That was when I started using calculators on my math homework for long division. If the statute of limitations were shorter, I would also mention that my fifth grade history project was just plagiarism of a Wikipedia page. If I was a pragmatic elementary school student, imagine how I advanced when the work actually got hard. I carried my dishonesty through middle school and into high school. Fortunately, I got into college. Unfortunately, I was accepted to a liberal arts college with an education centering around seminars.

Here lies a paradox. I was a straight A student throughout school, that loved knowledge. But what was the information I had absorbed exactly? I was halfheartedly fulfilling projects that were supposed to enrich me. I daydreamed instead of taking notes. I never really tried that hard when doing what should be fun for me.

Here's more about my humble beginnings. I am Southeast Asian, a community that teeters between model minority stereotypes and poverty. I grew up in a low-income family, and I've always been a little "queer." Essentially, I haven't been set up with the resources to achieve. I ended high school ranked sixth in my class, but I knew where my place was. I understood where I should place my effort, and some feats were beyond me. I could B.S. my way through assignments but I wasn't truly smart.

So here I am now. I was proud of my achievement to become the first generation in my family to attend college, yet I was worried I had taken on a task too gigantic for me to handle. All my peers knew much more; readings were incomprehensible; I barely could speak in class. I was an unintelligent, penniless student among intellectuals. The plan was to go on with my semester or year while looking for another college to transfer to. One fitting to my own mental capacity. However, blessed are the meek, for as I continued on in my classes, I started to understand the material much better. Some ideas just clicked, other ideas were forced into place by my professors (all very supportive). Abstract theories and conceptual conversations were taking hold in my mind. It took two semesters, but at the end I became more comfortable speaking about my thoughts to anyone who would listen. The thought of changing schools disappeared out of my mind; my mind was fit for this mentally rigorous school.

In reflection on my first year of college, now at an intellectually secure place, I realize where validity plays in my development. I began the world with an understanding that I couldn't achieve. I finished the race but that didn't quite make me good enough. So at college, I automatically labeled myself as unfit. I would quickly shut myself up if my mind started exploring concepts.

I believe this social and internal invalidation is a common narrative for many marginalized people. I am very content with where I ended up. I learnt to be comfortable with my own understanding of the world for what it is. Each thought, I've learned, is crucial to the collective knowledge. I had a place just for being present and alive. And college has helped me realized that.

Yet college should not be the place where the individual gets a chance at security. I am privileged in being able to attend college. However, validation should not only be allowed to those with the privilege of attending institutions; validation should be accessible for all lives. I do not want people like me to feel they aren't worth it because society suggests so. The marginalized should not have to first bear the weight of believing they are lesser. This means social shifts towards catering to those who need it. This begins with access to resources. This begins with representation. This begins with understanding that not only one type of person is worthwhile.