Ole Miss breeds excellence. Simple, quaint and profound — but this seemingly normal testament can breed darker consequences that cannot be predicted by spreadsheets and ambitious proposals.
As a student of the Honors College, I attended convocation last Thursday to hear New York Times columnist David Brooks speak. He is of particular interest to me because many of my ideals reflect his, such as the struggling Republican narrative in the face of Donald Trump.
And yet, I did not receive what I wanted, which was a talk on politics. Rather, I received what I needed.
Brooks hardly mentioned the election at all. Instead, he lamented the lack of intimacy in modern society, how human beings were simply lonelier than they used to be because we failed to truly connect with our counterparts.
Suddenly, I recognized a craving in myself that I had not even realized was there — I was crying out for intimacy, I think perhaps because I had largely been denied it for the past three months since I moved to Ole Miss.
Looking around at the entranced faces of the audience who looked as if they were being fed, I realized that I was not alone in this.
The modern student — myself included — is so hell-bent on appearing “together” all of the time. We craft perfect resumes and choose impressive majors, covering our widening cracks with anything from Facebook albums to alcohol. We think this will make us more likable.
But people cannot connect to credentials. A human being cannot foster affection for a transcript. We find likeness in our vulnerabilities, in our communal tears, in our unrestrained, unrefined hollers of victory when we pull something off we did not think possible.
Moreover, we bond through unfettered representations of self, which can only be accomplished through ardent pursuit of what we truly love. University life, what with its insistence on across-the-board perfection, hampers this. We become so caught up in being students that we forget to be human beings.
I was reluctant to publish my emotions — but I realized this hesitancy was my facade speaking. I realized that if I were to praise vulnerability, I needed to become vulnerable myself.
I hope I was not the only one who needed to hear this. I feel quite certain that I was not. Break down your walls and remember what it feels like to be mortal. And most importantly, broadcast your vulnerabilities with a bemused regret, an ability to laugh at yourself and a zealous desire to connect with others through them.
A special thank you to David Brooks and the rest of the Ole Miss faculty who made Thursday’s event such a success.
Julia Grant is a freshman public policy leadership and journalism major from Gulfport.
