Homeward bound

In a series titled “Hometown Nostalgia,” a campus publication recently gave students the opportunity to wax poetic about the homes that they were leaving as winter break came to a close. Each had a different tone, but in general the pieces lived up to the series’ title, mixing a sense of affection for our origins with a reflection on the various oddities that make these places “home.”

Reading these accounts of geographic belonging, I considered the question that invariably arises whenever the topic of home comes up: “So are you going to move back after graduation?” In my experience, most of us who come from neither of the coasts will answer in the negative. To many, getting to Columbia was a twofold achievement—a move toward personal success and an escape from the humble origins of home. After tasting the joys of cosmopolitanism in New York, a return would mean a self-relegation to less interesting communities.

As a native Arizonan, I felt the same way at the start of my Columbia career. In my mind, I had managed to escape my quaint southwestern origins and take the next step in my personal journey to success. Sure, the Grand Canyon State had treated me well for my childhood, but its utility to my future plans had diminished. It was time to leave.

The more I examine that line of thought in myself and my peers, though, the more I am repelled by it. There are a couple of reasons why I find it a disconcerting trend in our generation, not least of which is its self-centered frame of reference. This philosophy assumes from the start that our primary (and nearly exclusive) allegiance is to ourselves and our conception of success. But to try tackling this generational deficiency in 800 words would be foolishness. Instead, I would like to explore the concept of indebtedness.

While this preferred way of thinking conveniently frames our lives as a series of self-made decisions, it rarely reflects the reality. Instead, our journeys to this institution and beyond are an accretion of assistance offered. Each step we take has not been on a plane of our sole creation, but rather it has been supported by the charity, care, and favor of others. We haven’t pulled ourselves up by our bootstraps in a void. Instead, we have been trained by others to bear the weight of those same bootstraps.

Among those outsiders is the community that helped raise us. It may have been painless or painful, but our development as individuals was greatly impacted by the environment of our childhood. In a very long and nearly invisible process, varying individuals and institutions of home provided piecemeal contributions to our growth into people who will seek the highest levels of performance and excellence throughout our lifetimes. We certainly did not ask for such an investment of effort, but we are the recipients (and beneficiaries) of the generosity of home.

Naturally, if our arrival at Columbia was somehow precipitated by an overwhelmingly negative development, the reaction to the prospect of return may be less of indebtedness and more of a desire to make it better for the next wave of young people. Still, the negativity of the experience is not overwhelming, considering its culmination was in matriculating at Columbia.
The question then arises: Are we indebted to our childhood communities? Do we owe them any of the fruits of their investment? Perhaps that language is calculating, but it does convey the value of their contributions. While we may not have to feel imprisoned by their charity, I think it is fair to consider the possibilities of giving back to the communities that gave us so much.

Some of the people who best embody this desire to take what they learn here and benefit their place of origin are international students. Whether from Mexico, Peru, or Cameroon, they see not only the ways that their communities have contributed to their admission here, but also the ways that a Columbia education could benefit home. Rarely is there an attitude of suffocating indebtedness. Rather, they exhibit excitement at the prospect of giving back–it is a debt that is happily repaid.

There shouldn’t have to be an international border between here and our homes in order for us to recognize and react to the cycle of sacrifice and reciprocation. Of course I am not advocating for a mandatory return to each student’s home after graduation. What I am saying is that our post-graduation paths should be more informed by the investment that our homes consciously or unconsciously vested in us.

We may never be homeward bound. And yet I can’t help wondering if we are bound by home.

Derek Turner is a Columbia College senior majoring in anthropology and political science. He is director of intergroup affairs for the Columbia University College Republicans. Opening Remarks runs alternate Mondays.