The start of my senior fall has been fun, reflective, and bittersweet. As I near the end of my college journey, I've been thinking a lot about the kind of legacy I want to leave here. Amidst all the fun fall festivities, one particular event has really set the tone for the start of my final year at Harvard. 

On October 8th, the Hutchins Center for African & African American Research hosted its annual W.E.B. Du Bois Medal Ceremony at Sanders Theatre. The medal is the Hutchins Center's highest honor, recognizing individuals who have made significant contributions to African and African American history and culture. This year's recipients included renowned actress Angela Bassett, Premier League Hall of Famer Didier Drogba, and award-winning producer Lena Waithe.

As a student volunteer at the ceremony, I made my rounds backstage, helping guide honorees to different locations and assisting their guests throughout the evening. The ceremony began with a touching and powerful rendition of "Lift Every Voice and Sing" by Harvard College's Kuumba Singers, the oldest Black student organization on campus, with more than 50 years of history.

As a Senegalese American and first-generation, low-income college student, being in a space celebrating such a range of experiences, leadership, and achievement was the representation I needed to see. Seeing the different backgrounds of the honorees, from artists and athletes to entrepreneurs, made me feel more settled in recognizing that the path beyond college isn't necessarily linear. 

I'm sure we've all heard the familiar sayings about life's journeys having their ups and downs, but being a graduating college student has a different way of putting it all into perspective. After years of structure, rigor, and working toward the next milestone, I've found myself asking some deeper questions: What is this all for? Who is this for? Where do I want to be? 

Hearing the honorees describe their own journeys of finding their passions and making meaning in the work they do made me think, this, this is it. There isn't necessarily one path to a meaningful life, and perhaps that's what I needed to hear most. In the beautiful mix of my amazing fellow student volunteers, inspiring honorees, and generations all gathered together, I found myself viewing senior year not simply as an ending, but as the beginning of an exciting road ahead.

One of the biggest highlights of my night, however, was the advice I received. From honoree Theaster Gates's earnestness to Mavis Staples's guiding hand as I ushered her into the venue, I was struck by the warmth, humility, and dedication to craft that surrounded me. These small interactions reminded me that the impact we have on others can be just as meaningful as the accomplishments we leave behind. 

Toward the end of the night, two guests told me that I needed to have a word to strive toward each semester, and that my friends and I should lift each other up, checking in and reminding one another of our words and our capabilities. I've thought for quite some time about what my word would be. I mean, this word would be quite emblematic of my senior fall! I didn't want future me looking back at the word and thinking, Huh? You chose that!? 

But more seriously, I wanted a word that could capture both where I am now and the person I'm continuing to become. 

At some point in our lives, we all ask questions of ourselves. Did I do enough? What does my future look like? Am I ready? Honestly, we may not know every answer. But there is an earnestness and meaning in the very act of asking. Perhaps this carries far more weight than the answers themselves. I've come to realize that even in moments of uncertainty, we're still growing, learning, and becoming. 

And so, I've finally figured out my word for the fall: Becoming.

At the end of the day, aren't we always?