Good afternoon faculty, staff, family, friends and of course my fellow graduates,
wherever you may be right now.
I can’t see any of you, but I imagine
you have a case of quarantine hair like me
and are curled up and comfortable.
Regalia is nice, but I think there’s a compelling case
to be made for sweatpants or in my case, a sarong.
My name is Abdullah Shihipar,
and I’m graduating with a Master's of Public Health
today from Brown.
I’m coming to you from my apartment,
here on the territory of the Narragansett
and Wampanoag peoples,
what is presently known as Providence, Rhode Island.
As I begin my speech with this land acknowledgement,
it is worth noting that the Wampanoag people
need your solidarity as some of their land
is being threatened– you can Google for more.
So, first of all, congratulations!
You’re graduating with a master’s degree from Brown –
that’s a big deal.
Give yourself a round of applause,
and if you’re watching in support of someone,
also give yourself a round of applause
because you showed up and that matters.
Now, I want you to think back to when you first got to campus,
or you could pull up Facebook and scroll down –
whatever is easier.
For some of you this may be a year ago,
for others, almost two years ago.
Think about how you felt your first few weeks here.
I don’t know about you, but when I first got to Brown,
I felt out of place and isolated.
I missed my family and friends in Toronto,
and Providence felt lonely and unfamiliar.
The first two months seemed to drag on —
while it seemed like everyone else around me
was acclimatized and having grand conversations about the world,
I was watching Netflix and eating zebra cakes in my apartment.
At times I wondered if grad school was right for me —
sometimes I felt like an imposter.
But slowly, over time, things got better.
As I met more people across the university
and across Providence, my support network grew.
I joined Dr. Brandon Marshall’s lab
and worked with a team of twenty people
researching how to prevent overdose.
Through my work as a communications scholar
at the School of Public Health,
I became pals with a bunch of staff at the dean’s office.
I joined our labour union and met other grad students
organizing for a contract.
I met dozens of Muslim students, who together with former Chaplain Adnan
and his family provided me with a warm, spiritual home on campus.
At night, I worked with undergraduate students
who were passionate about ending the prison industrial complex.
Everyone I interacted at Brown
provided me with some sort of support —
whether it was the OnCall driver who would ferry me
to Providence Place Mall to watch a late night film,
or my swim instructor at the Nelson Fitness Center,
who despite my inability to advance from the beginner
to the intermediate class in my two years here,
never once showed his frustration.
You see, what we do in life is never
just the product of our own hard work.
Thousands of people contribute to our growth as human beings –
our parents, family, friends, educators,
they all play a role in shaping who we are as people.
If, like me, you have ever felt like an imposter,
remember that it’s not just you.
I know it’s a scary time.
We are graduating in the midst of a pandemic
where millions have lost their jobs
and thousands are dying by the day.
I’m not going to say everything will be okay,
because like the rest of us,
I have no idea what the future holds.
But I do know what this moment demands of us.
The late Toni Morrison told her students,
“When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for,
just remember that your real job
is that if you are free, you need to free someone else.”
Pandemic or not, our job is to go into the world
and be part of other people’s support systems.
In the midst of this crisis,
people are finding ways to support each other —
neighbors are delivering meals to each other,
essential workers are going on strike
to demand protections,
and people are connecting with the elderly,
albeit from a distance.
And thousands are doing their part
to flatten the curve by staying home.
The job market might have you rethinking your degree or your worth.
But know that your skills are needed now more than ever.
We are at a critical junction —
not only must we take care
of the sick and vulnerable today,
but we also have an opportunity
to reshape the world of tomorrow.
This crisis has laid bare the stark inequities that afflict our societies.
We have lost so much and so many,
but we can choose to create a society
where everyone is taken care of.
We can say no more.
I’d like to end off with a few thank yous
and I hope you at home
will also do the same to those who supported you.
If they live with you, say it in person.
If they don’t, call them, text them, use email.
Write them a letter via our lovely postal service.
Let them know just how much you appreciate their support.
Thank you to my parents who are watching from Texas,
who have sacrificed so much for me.
Thank you to my siblings who have been an endless source of support.
And thank you to my friends and family from Toronto, Providence,
and all around the world who are watching.
Thank you to God, and finally thank you all for watching.