| Coming from a largely Asian corner of Queens, New York, Lisa attended the Bronx High School of Science, where 40 percent of students are of Asian descent. Against this backdrop, she hardly thought about her own identity as the daughter of Korean immigrants. But in her first year at Williams, through a class on contemporary Asian-American history taught by Professor Scott Wong, the Korean-American experience became the center of her education, inside and outside the classroom. Lisa immersed herself in the campus group Asian-American Students in Action. She planned her first trip to Korea, for the following summer. And for a project on immigration, "I went home with a tape recorder," Lisa says, "and I came away with something I never expected: My parents have become my friends."
These experiences spurred Lisa to spend the spring of her junior year in Seoul, South Korea, including an intensive three-week tour of the country. Back on campus the following fall, she charted her own journey into Korean history, politics and culture through a series of independent studies. By graduation, she secured an internship at a Chinese-American community health center in New York City - perhaps the start of a career in health care advocacy.
And in the midst of all these explorations, through a chance rooming assignment the summer after sophomore year, Lisa met someone else who turned her preconceptions on their heads - a young woman from inner city Chicago named Terri Autry Williams. (See profile.) "At Bronx Science," says Lisa, "I didn't have any African-American friends. And you don't even know the stereotypes you bring to a relationship. But Terri and I could always talk really openly about things. Within a week, we were just so close." Their friendship continued to blossom, in part, says Lisa, because Terri is always willing to try new things: "She had never had Korean food before - and she loved it. For me, if you can like my food, you're in the club!" |
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And for a young woman from the urban canyons of Chicago, the leafy serenity of the Williams campus and its Frisbee-spangled lawns was itself a trip to somewhere beautifully, deeply foreign.
From each of her journeys, Terri brought home a suitcaseful of new confidence. Williams sets a high bar for language skills of students studying abroad, so she left for Spain knowing she had the fundamentals. But daily life in a Spanish household offers certain essential advantages over practicing conversation in front of your professors back home: "It's great to speak with people who really need to understand what you're saying - and who don't feel responsible for your grammar." It gives you the nerve to just talk.
Her journey to the Land of Williams helped her find the courage to use her voice in another way: "Williams taught me to think - and it taught me that I have to speak up! No one is going to do it for me." Though she loves the "Purple Bubble," a place where everyone tries hard and everyone cares, "it is not," Terri says, "a map of the world at all." Hoping to put her psychology degree and her life experience to work for that troubled world, she is starting graduate work in community psychology at DePauw University this fall.
For Terri, a powerful part of her Williams education was the chance to live and work with people whose cultures and backgrounds she never encountered in her Chicago neighborhood. One of her most important connections: classmate Lisa Ahn. (see profile). The summer after sophomore year, they were surprised to find themselves sharing a double - but even more surprised to discover all the things they believed about each other's cultures that simply weren't true. Very quickly, however, they came to value what they had in common: a dedication to their academic work. A real passion for social justice. And a shared enthusiasm for kimchee.
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