Color me sentimental on any given day, but in my last semester of college, you’ll find a tear running down my cheek merely because of how beautiful the sky looks over Carter Field. Since September, I’ve consistently reminded myself to “Be a senior!!!” which essentially means I want to intently savor the rest of my short time as a student with my people.
Luckily for me, every Monday at 5:45 p.m., I make my way through the International Village wind tunnel, past the weird dining hall smell between the double doors and down the stairs to 014/016/018. I occasionally give someone a nudge that there will be a club meeting here at 6:15, but they can take their time as I set up the room. I usually take these five to ten minutes of solitude to reflect on my weekend or whatever else might be on my mind. By now, I’m on autopilot: log into both PCs, click-clack “Google Drive” on the keyboard, find the “Upcoming” folder, pull down the projector screen and take a seat until someone joins me.
Four years ago, I would only arrive 15 minutes early, hoping to sit near someone and start a conversation. At that time, meetings were held in a shallow first-floor Ryder room that faced Centennial. I remember how simultaneously eager and nervous I would be to speak in a pitch session.
I happened upon Her Campus during Fall Fest of my first year in 2021. It caught my attention because I was longing for connection and loved writing. It was just another email list I’d signed up for alongside the 13 other on-campus publications, but for some reason, it stuck. Maybe it was the event requirement, or the way I felt so comforted by that first Slack from an editor, Riley, telling me how much my piece had touched her. I felt understood, and, given that I had written about my experience with mental illness as a student, seen.
One semester later, I was on the executive board — an events coordinator, cool! I was more involved. I can’t remember if we even had e-board meetings back then, but I do recall feeling a sense of importance in putting something on for others. By that point, I had made a few friends and was feeling connected to the club.
I felt at ease among these women, especially during writing workshops where we’d speak freely and brainstorm article ideas. Even now, in moments of insecurity and despair, I find comfort in knowing I have a community that has my back: 55 women who will bond with me over misogynistic professors, trudge through an 8 a.m. Saturday 5K, perk up and smile when passing on the street and inevitably make me feel full.
Throughout my college years, Her Campus has always been there, and so have the women I write alongside. Grace, a fourth-year behavioral neuroscience and philosophy major has been a consistently strong contributor since our first year, as well as a familiar and kind face. Our current editor-in-chief, Greta, joined the e-board with me during our second semester on campus. Since then, I have been relieved to see her in classes, walk home from meetings with her and now rely on her as a confidant. Rose and Tara, two more HC e-board veterans, have seen all of the changes our chapter has gone through and remain committed to the women of this club.
This energy extends to those who have joined over the course of my four years in Her Campus. One of the first people that comes to mind is Alex, our VP associate. Every time she leads an activity in chapter, I’m amazed by how she commands the room. Other women in the club publish pieces that embody their confidence and fierce attitudes, like Christine or Michelle. Writers like Yazzy and Vivian are inventive and witty, and I always find myself learning something new when I read their articles. Perhaps my favorite part of being surrounded by these women each week are their unique perspectives. Members have written about everything from cultural superstitions to personal reflections to local community events.
I mention these women’s articles because I see them as an extension of the individuals they are. Much like the pieces I have had the pleasure of reading, the women I have had the pleasure of knowing in this club are intelligent, ambitious and, above all, they’re real. At a school where so much can feel transactional, I have never once doubted the genuineness of this club. I don’t know when else in my life I will have 55 women to rely on, so I’m holding on tight for the next four weeks.
This Women’s History Month, I am applauding the women who empower me simply by reading their writing: the women of Her Campus Northeastern.