Human Resilience: Beauty Beyond Aurora Borealis

My heart was set on witnessing the beauty of the northern lights. I finally had a chance to chase this dream—the only item on my bucket list—through an Alternative Spring Break trip to Alaska. After spending a quarter learning about affordable real estate and legal access in Alaska, I traveled to Anchorage with twelve other students.

Prior to this trip, my knowledge of the housing crisis was fairly limited to my home state of California. Since conversations about homelessness are centered on cities like San Francisco and Los Angeles, I was unaware of the disproportionately high rate of homelessness among Alaskan Natives. I realized that the rural setting and smaller scale of Alaskan cities limited federal funding for housing development, making homelessness a life-or-death situation in the harsh Alaskan winter climate.

Our group met a variety of organizations working to end homelessness, ranging from affordable housing developers to homeless service providers. We assembled resource kits, distributed supplies at a pop-up, and cleaned up the kitchen of a transitional living space for youth who had previously experienced homelessness.

I was moved when we saw one of these organizations in court as the plaintiff in an eviction case. Perhaps the tenant needed a few more weeks of grace, but their rent could have contributed to housing for more people. As we reconciled the stark reality of this case with the nonprofit's overarching mission to house people, we realized how easy it is to villainize those who contradict your view until you witness their circumstances.

The people I met and the stories I heard during these service opportunities were far more compelling than any paper I read. Discussing the economics of the Anchorage housing market in a classroom thousands of miles away could never compare to looking someone in the eyes as they shared their story.

As this year’s Affordability Issue Area Coordinator, I engage in similar service opportunities here at Stanford. I establish new partnerships and deepen existing relationships between students, faculty, and local community partners. My passion for affordability is rooted in my vision for housing equity: securing affordable and high-quality housing for the community within and surrounding Stanford. This passion has inspired me to pursue a career that grants me the privilege of spending a life in service.

I consider my pre-med peers, many of whom are first-generation/low-income students seeking a stable, high-return job to provide for their family. I acknowledge that a career of passion, especially a public service career, is indeed a privilege. And yet, my service experiences have shown me that a fulfilling career—public service or not— is centered on people. In this sense, I hope I find a career without a clear work-life boundary: one that does not make me wait until 5:00 pm each weekday to share love for my community, one that reminds me not to reserve gratitude, respect, and kindness for Sunday mornings.

At the end of my Alternative Spring Break trip, I caught only a pale green glimpse of the Northern Lights on the flight home. Still, I returned to California with a heart overwhelmed with gratitude. During my trip, I had crossed paths with incredible people: a mother in transitional family housing who was seventeen years sober and sacrificed everything for her young son; a vibrant lady who shared her paintings with us from the warm embrace of her permanent supportive housing unit. The majesty of human resilience was a far more beautiful sight than lights in the sky could ever be.

The more I engage with my community through public service, the more I recognize that changing the world does not have to mean changing its entirety. A far more humble (and feasible) goal is to serve some corner of the world, creating change that is deeper than it is broad. In doing so, I aim to honor the infinite value within each person that I meet.

My service at Stanford is teaching me that the path less traveled may very well lead to the most joy. Choosing to serve—choosing humility—is, perhaps, the noblest choice to make. Whether or not I pursue a career in public service, I will encounter opportunities to make this choice at every juncture. My unfinished bucket list is proof that my work has only begun.