I'm coming home now
Mentally, emotionally, but not physically (I've been home for six years).
As I sat in the theater, waiting for comedian Matt Friend to come on, “Home” by Vince Staples played softly from the speakers. “I’m coming home now,” Staples definitively stated (sang).
And I realized: I am home. New York University is my forever home. New York City is my chosen one.
I recently attended NYU’s alumni and family weekend: over 100 events spread over four days. Among others, I caught the aforementioned comedy show, panels on discrimination and the power of music, and a birthday party for NYU’s newspaper, Washington Square News.
My badge for the weekend, identifying me as an LGBTQ+ alum of the Graduate School of Arts & Sciences (GSAS). Photo taken at Washington Square Park, NYU’s unoffical park.
Friend, a 25-year-old alumnus of NYU Gallatin, is a successful comedian and impressionist now. He can do over 260 impressions - and do them well. His Donald Trump is uncanny; his Bernie Sanders will take you right back to the 2020 election debates. (Follow him on Instagram @themattfriend).
NYU has over 650,000 alumni worldwide; its Alumni Association’s mission is “to build and sustain a lifelong relationship between the University and its alumni.” To me, it seems like they are succeeding. (As I wrote for Die Presse last year, Austrian universities look to the U.S. for inspiration on how to foster a lifelong friendship with their alumni.)
I started this newsletter to give honest, unfiltered insights into grad life at NYU, so let me continue to be frank now that it’s been almost six months since I’ve left with a master’s degree:
It’s been weird. When you’re in grad school (or working towards any goal), you get tunnel vision. In my case, every interview I did, every story I wrote, produced, or filmed, and every grade I received marked another small step on the way to conferring my degree. I got swept up in the excitement, the stress, the struggle to organize my days as efficiently as possible so I could become a productivity machine and cross that finish line. And as I waived my GSAS flag from the VIP box at the Yankee Stadium, where the All-NYU Commencement took place, I was beaming with Violet Pride.
My graduation portrait, taken on Brooklyn Bridge on May 13 by my friend Kevin Berlanga, a talented photographer.
But not even 24 hours after, the dread about my uncertain future crept in. The next day, right after the GSAS graduation ceremony, I had a small panic attack, and not even my parents could calm me down. I was scared of the future.
Hindsight is 2020 2023. I was being overly dramatic. I still had a job (thank you, Jesse!), so there was little to no risk of having to leave the country. For context, as a visa holder, you have to find a job within 60 days after graduation, otherwise the U.S. says “Bye, Felicia” and you’re on the next flight out. Unlike many, I also truly enjoy my job. Plus, I made incredible connections at NYU, so, to use my mother’s favorite quote, I had been given many keys — even though I would have to unlock those doors myself.
Despite all that, I found myself on a mental roller coaster for the next few months. I put incredible pressure on myself to basically publish a story in the New York Times tomorrow. I spent countless hours whining about my uncertain future to my therapist, and I annoyed all of my best friends and my family with my self-deprecation. My fear of the unknown and paralyzing anxiety was one of the reasons this newsletter died for a little bit.
Of course, summer 2023 was not all bad. My therapist encouraged me to “give myself grace” and enjoy the fact that I had, for one, gotten my degree against all odds, and two, wasn’t bogged down with school work anymore. So I tried. I saw my friends often, traveled a bit, and went to fun shows and festivals. I also threw myself back into my PR work with the full force that only a master’s in journalism can provide. But the dread reared its ugly head almost every day: “You need to publish. You need to reach out to people. You need to get out of this funk NOW and do something.”
Ultimately, I got out of this funk partially thanks to the same institution that awarded my degree: NYU. When I arrived for the first event of the alumni weekend on Friday, October 27, I didn’t know what to expect. But over the course of the following three days, I learned many tangible and intangible things. Here’s a random list:
NYU Gallatin, the school for individualized study, seems awesome. It produced alums like Matt Friend, and the individual attention and friendship that professors provide almost makes me want to get another degree. Anybody have tens of thousands of dollars they can lend me? LOL.
Music is a powerful tool for connection, community, friendship, and more. (Okay, I knew this already, but it helps to be reminded.)
Washington Square News, NYU’s student-run, independent newspaper, produces some really great work, including breaking the “Bobst Boy” story almost 20 years ago: Steve Sanzak, an NYU undergrad student, was homeless and lived in the Bobst library for months. The story was picked up by the New York Times, among other news outlets, and forced NYU to inspect its high housing costs further.
The NYU Silver School of Social Work doesn’t only educate tomorrow’s social workers and mental health professionals. It also works on actionable ways to improve conditions for disadvantaged communities.
As an NYU alum, you get access to cheap(er) Broadway tickets.
Some other random good things that happened: I had a great conversation with a freelance photographer about his work philosophy. I met some really cool LGBTQ+ alums and felt seen and heard by a bisexual man who is married to a man. I chatted with an NYU stern alum who runs several businesses. I met the parents of an NYU undergrad student who were impressed by the fact I’ve made it in New York for six years without a safety net in the form of family on this side of the ocean. (NOT to discount my incredible family who have never stopped holding a protective hand over me from afar.)
As I walked home from the subway on Sunday evening, having just attended the final event on my agenda (the Broadway musical comedy “Shucked”) with my former roommate and friend Alex, followed by a two-hour conversation over drinks, I listened to “Home” by Vince Staples again. The chorus partially goes:
I’m coming home now
I’m coming home
Right where I belong now
Right where I belong
We all know that home is where the heart is. Mine is at NYU, it’s in New York, and it’s more committed than ever to making myself happy here. I’m right where I belong.