When I think about the past four years I’ve spent at Chico State, one feeling keeps resurfacing like a quiet background track I did not realize was always playing. Belonging. Or at least, the pursuit of it. Did I find it? Kind of. But not in the clean, cinematic way I expected when I first stepped on campus. Let me explain.
According to CSU Chico, Black or African American students make up just 2.8% of the student body. Being part of that percentage is something I feel in both loud and quiet ways. Sometimes it is walking into a room and doing the math instantly. Sometimes it is more subtle, like scanning for familiarity in faces, in energy, in shared understanding that does not need to be explained.
Chico has a way of feeling both warm and isolating at the same time. Sunlight that looks soft on the sidewalks, but silence that lingers in the in-between moments. It is a place where life feels slow on the surface, but internally, everything can feel a little louder.
There is a specific kind of awareness that comes with being “one of few.” It is not always negative, but it is always present. It makes you question things you are told not to question in college brochures. Where do I fit in here? Am I supposed to fit in everywhere, or just somewhere?
I will be honest, my time at Chico State has not been perfect. But I have also realized that is a bit of a myth we sell ourselves about college anyway. That it is supposed to be this perfectly curated four-year transformation where everything clicks into place by senior year. In reality, it is messier. It stretches you in ways you do not always have language for yet.
They say college is what you make it, and I used to think that meant just saying yes more. Yes to events, yes to clubs, yes to opportunities. But I have learned it also means something deeper. Understanding that access, comfort, and belonging do not always show up automatically, and sometimes you have to actively build them.
There were moments when I felt hyper-visible in rooms where I was also somehow invisible. That contradiction is hard to explain unless you have lived it. People notice you, but do not always see you. They see what you look like before they ever get the chance to understand who you are.
I need to be honest about something else too. Identity is not always as straightforward as people want it to be. I am a woman of color, and often that is how I am perceived first. But I am also only fifty percent African American. That nuance does not always get space in how people categorize others. Especially in environments where exposure is limited, people tend to simplify what they do not fully understand. Not always maliciously, but still impactfully.
That is where I had to learn something important. I cannot rely on other people to fully define me, understand me, or make space for every part of me. That work, as uncomfortable as it sounds, starts with me.
One of the most grounding things I found at Chico State was learning to use my resources intentionally. Spaces like the Black Resource Center became more than just buildings or programs. They became reminders that I did not have to navigate everything alone. There were people actively creating room for conversation, for community, for visibility that was not conditional.
But even beyond formal spaces, I learned the importance of showing up for myself socially and emotionally. Putting yourself out there is not just about networking or being involved. It is about allowing yourself to be seen fully, not just in fragments that feel safe. It is about finding people who do not just acknowledge your presence, but actually value your perspective.
And maybe even more importantly, it is about being okay with not having everything figured out. Not knowing where you fully belong yet. Not having a perfect sense of identity or direction at 18, 19, 20, or even 21.
Because the truth is, belonging is not always a place you arrive at. Sometimes it is something you return to, reshape, and rebuild in pieces through conversations, discomfort, community, and time. And sometimes it starts with accepting that you do not have to shrink yourself to fit into spaces that were never designed with all of you in mind.
So when I think about Chico State now, I do not think in terms of whether I fully found belonging or did not. I think about the version of me that stopped waiting for it to appear and started learning how to create it in rooms, in friendships, and most importantly, within myself.
And I am still learning that belonging is not a destination. It is something I keep choosing, over and over again.