When I was eight, my dad—baba—gave me a mini plow.
At nine, I got the set— plastic shovel and rake.
At ten, I got a red wagon and pretended that it was a wheelbarrow.
“Keep feeding this garden, and watch it grow,” Baba regularly told me. I didn’t really know what Baba meant. He fused gardening metaphors and life lessons so much that they seemed second nature.
But Baba wasn’t talking garden. No, Baba was talking life. Subconsciously, Baba’s mantra guided much of my life’s trajectory.
Baba realized I had a hard time finding my group. Reared in Mississippi’s public schools, I was considered ambiguous by all standards. I didn’t fit into any ethnic or racial category—which, let’s be real, there were only two. My last name was pronounced with more pauses than there are syllables. The school thought that my “rs” rolled a little too much and placed me in speech therapy until middle school. And most importantly, I did not consume, indulge in or profess love for the unofficial food ambassador of the south—the pig. Needless to say, I was an anomaly in a sea of Mississippians. Yet, I was Mississippian. I am Mississippian.
“Keep feeding this garden, and watch it grow.”
Similar to how Baba taught me to nourish in order to be nourished by our garden, he taught me to nourish to be nourished by our community. Pour love, energy and resources into your earth and watch it bloom; pour love, energy and resources into your people and watch them bloom. So, I was raised to dive right in. I became a member of and sang with my school’s predominantly Christian choir and performed in spoken word & poetry events to show solidarity for the oppressed of our community. My parents didn’t teach us to tolerate our community. They taught us to love our community. And more than anything, they encouraged us to never stop learning and asking about it.
Two, four or six years ago, we all entered a new community, Duke, to get a first-class education. We poured our time and resources into Duke, watching as it changed and grew, reflecting the change and growth we saw in ourselves. Along the way, we stopped tolerating Duke. We started loving Duke.
But we did not love Duke because of the championships or the national awards though these definitely helped. We loved Duke because we were trained to not be content with becoming experts in our fields. We were trained to use our passions and interests to move entire communities, companies and countries forward.
Duke became a part of us when we used our experience in the labs to design custom devices to aid disabled individuals, when we revolutionized technology to implement water purification systems across the world and when we combined our passions for dance and healing to implement a dance therapy project to improve the health of elderly populations.
This “do good” mentality wasn’t limited to the classrooms. Through Common Ground retreats, panel discussions and even 2 a.m. conversations with a dorm mate who looks nothing like you, we learned how to go beyond ourselves and prioritize the well being of someone else.
And in that sense, we’re all not that different. Sure, we come from diverse backgrounds, and we’re all heading in different directions after Duke, but we’re all leaving with experiences that have left the world a little more bearable for humanity to thrive in.
One of my biggest fears after graduating was that I would be expected to fill a position, not fill a person, turning my Duke mind off and turning my mimetic brain on. And after talking to classmates, seniors and younger, I’ve realized I’m not the only one.
We don’t want to become physicians or teachers because we don’t think we’re making enough of a difference. But what I’ve realized these last few weeks, through the multiple challenges our campus and country has experienced, is that our values, our hope of moving the world forward, does not come with a specific career title.
In receiving a privilege that may make our lives a tad bit easier, we must recognize the obligation to pay it forward. At every step of the way, even if our careers are not outright saving lives, we must ask ourselves, “Who is not represented here? Who is not being served by my work? Who may be being hurt by my work? How can I mitigate this?”
We can incorporate this value of thoughtful work in our day-to-day lives in many ways. For example, ensure that all voices are in discussions, especially women and minorities. I attended the Clinton Global Initiative meeting earlier this year, and we discussed the implications of women serving as signatories in only 4 percent of the 31 major peace processes in the last 20 years. Peace agreements are 60 percent less likely to fail when they include women as active participants. To include more of the unheard issues, the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security was passed. It acknowledges women’s unique perspective on issues and recognizes the critical role women play in the processes of negotiating, peace building and mediation. Imagine how much more sustainable decisions and progress all over the world would be if we could bring more unheard voices to the table.
Another way to live Duke outside of Duke is to never distance ourselves from who our employer may be hurting. There are clear infractions many companies commit like Exxon’s environmental infringements or Dillard’s unethical sweatshops. However, there are more indirect ways companies are hurting people such as investing in corporations that have human rights violations in the occupied Palestinian territories.
And if we find ourselves intimidated by being these voices immediately out of Duke, we can still find ways to support a collaborative, working environment. Far too many companies are adopting a me centric world rather than an us centric one. Duke made sure we know how to collaborate. Bring this skill with you wherever you end up. Keep feeding the garden, and watch it grow, Baba told me.
No matter where you go, keep feeding the garden. Watch it grow. Infect all pockets of our world. Your employer may be caught up in her own agenda, but you don’t have to be. Your Duke Blue Devil sisters and brothers are feeding this garden, too, hoping to move all people and communities forward not just some people and communities, so that our world is able to experience the uninhibited love we experienced at Duke.
Leena El-Sadek is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Wednesday.
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