She Was Here

“You’re magical”— My senior year professional and digital writing professor. She pushed me hard and encouraged me a lot and not just as a writer. I remember really needing to hear that in that moment. I remember feeling so seen. Like I wasn’t simply an idealistic college student with lofty goals. Someone I highly respected saw me. I think about this innocuous compliment three years later whenever I feel invisible— especially to myself.

First runner up: “You are brilliant!”— another professor I had several times during undergrad. I remember it on an assignment where I took several risks. Something so affirming hearing that from her as my friends and I would gush over her brilliance and accomplishments. It was a much needed reminder that gpa didn’t define my intelligence.

Second runner up: “I’m proud of you. What you are doing is some real boss chick shit.”— my undergrad advisor. She’d just delivered soul crushing news about my acceptance into an honor society the day before, vouched for me as I was deeply depressed that year (left a toxic relationship, lost my grandmother, living in a hostile environment, having to go hungry, the list goes on) although the committee was willing to let me in on a probationary period I rejected the offer and wanted to redeem myself fair and square. A slow but glowing smile graced her kind face. She’d given me the first bit of hope I hadn’t felt in a while.