I grew up on Long Island, New York, in a quiet town called Hewlett. The guys at the local pizza place all knew my name, the local politics all revolved around the nearby synagogues and the same five moms were always leading the Parent-Teacher Association. Because our community was tiny, Hewlett was where everyone knew everyone’s business, offering no opportunities for second impressions. As a result, growing up made it impossible to evolve under anyone’s gaze. It felt like no matter how much I changed, there was no escaping the person I was at six years old, sparking a resentment for my environment.
When I came to GW, I had a fresh start to be anyone I wanted to be. I was able to pursue only what I wanted to, choosing the people I surrounded myself with instead of having my community assigned to me. I was more empathetic to my friends and more outgoing in forming new relationships. I wasn’t met with constant judgment about my weight, or identity or beliefs but with lots of opportunity through my campus organizations and in my classes. Through time on campus and support from my friends, I realized that the only expectations I had now were those I put on myself. Coming to GW was the best choice I could’ve made for my personal growth.
GW was open to the idea of someone like me, a neurodivergent, queer Jewish Democrat who isn’t afraid of being uncomfortable with new concepts or hard conversations. At home, this kind of thinking didn’t exist. Returning home demonstrated my growth and how desperately I needed to leave that town.
When I visited New York during Thanksgiving break, I came to realize that my insatiable focus on my peers and teachers’ opinions during high school was unattainable. I had an English teacher who made me miserable my senior year, choosing obvious favorites and grading unfairly. There was no course of action that would lead to me getting out of that class unscathed mentally or academically, so I couldn’t say a thing. Now, if I have a challenge with a professor, we either talk about it like adults or at the worst, I make my peace with seeing them for just two hours per week. Returning home showed me that college has allowed me to relax more than I realized and stop living in fear.
When I was home for Thanksgiving break, I ran into two girls I knew growing up, and they also commented that leaving our town seems to have made all the difference in getting me to a place where I’m noticeably happier. These girls seemed to have found their niches at school, coming to the same conclusion that I did, that the world gets easier when you have options rather than directions.
When I moved on to seeing teachers at my high school’s alumni day, they made note of the fact that the life I have now is so much bigger than what I had a year ago. If I want to learn anything, I can. If I want to go somewhere or do something, I do. Going back to that school only showed me why I was so happy to leave it behind. My newspaper adviser was so proud that I moved on from working on our tiny school paper to writing for The Hatchet, a paper that itself is an institution.
Many teachers were happy for me knowing that I now go to school somewhere much more tailored to my interests in history and politics, with specific degrees and clubs for my passions. GW has let me lean into my interest in social issues in a way I never could have before while growing up in a homogenous, Republican area. Most importantly, seeing the two teachers who got me through school and having them say that they’re happy for me for finding better, even while they stayed in the same place, told me all I needed to know.
In the short time that has passed since I’ve come to live on my own in D.C., I’ve proven to myself and others that I am now more self-sufficient, independent and capable than I’d previously thought. I juggle coursework that is difficult, taking care of my own space, social engagements, extracurriculars and more. Going back to my high school and seeing people I’ve already seen for 14 years quite frankly just made me sad because it felt like a regression. My life now is bigger and brighter than I could have even imagined this time a year ago, and honestly, thank God that going back home showed me that.
Mara Riegel, a first-year majoring in political science, is an opinions writer.
