People make me tick. I like learning about everyone I encounter, and I love hearing snippets of people’s lives and piecing them together to gain a better sense of who a person is. Learning about how people choose to interact with others due to past experiences and about how others handled various challenges in their life is fascinating, which is why the informational interviews required by GSBF have been so fun for me. I get to learn about people and hear their stories! I often wonder why I didn’t major in humanities, because internally, I’ve always known that social issues are what I am most passionate about. However, I think a part of me has always intentionally neglected to allow that side of me to fully develop and mature in fear of not following the expected path of going into STEM. As I’ve gotten older, it’s become more difficult to squash that calling for my work to surround people. As Bryan Stevenson said at the 2016 Carnegie Summit, “You cannot be an effective problem-solver from a distance. There are details and nuances to problems that you will miss unless you are close enough to observe those details.” This theme of proximity is echoed throughout many of Stevenson’s other writings and speeches, and it amply summarizes how I feel about any engineering work. Getting close with a community that engineers are attempting to solve problems for is so important, as can be seen by the many humanitarian project failures that have occurred because time was not taken to understand the cultural and historical roots of systemic issues. Additionally, getting to know people is just pure joy. Adapting to every individual’s idiosyncratic form of expression is almost like a puzzle; to effectively communicate with new people, I need to take all verbal and nonverbal cues and interpret them together. Seeing eyes light up, smiles widen, and facades fade brings me such fulfillment—it means I’ve found the key to interaction and unlocked it. Space for mutual vulnerability is created, and heart-to-heart conversations are possible. Below are some documented instances of inspiring and heartwarming interaction from this summer. This fellowship has underscored the importance of proximity to me firsthand. Without the endless amounts of time spent with various stakeholders in Three Wheels United’s business, Gavin and I would not have been able to understand the auto drivers and their families, their needs, their glories, and the areas for improvement. We would not have been able to create our deliverables, which will hopefully help Three Wheels United impact more auto drivers. It seems like a no-brainer that we must understand the problem before we try to solve it. But, being in the School of Engineering for the past four years, I have seen far too many times the failure of the implementation of truly understanding a client’s desires. Instead, we often manipulate the identified problem into what we, as educated Westerners, perceive to be the issue. This realization combined with the amount of fulfillment I felt with genuine, unadulterated human interaction this summer is why I want to be a social engineer; an engineer that emphasizes community engagement and fieldwork in the design process. When in India, we traveled to Chennai. I had already noticed the dearth of adequate infrastructure in Bangalore, but it was in Chennai that I observed its consequences. When we arrived at the end of June, it had already been over a month since Day Zero of the Chennai drought. Part of our research consisted of visiting auto driver’s homes to learn more about their family, their daily life, and to possibly record some footage for our video deliverables. We visited Muthuvel’s and Shivashankaram’s homes, as they both lived in the same apartment complex. Families left their doors open, curious women peered out at us from their balconies, and children darted from door to door. Muthuvel described his home as a slum, but I would describe it more as government subsidized housing that is not luxurious, but enough. Every apartment had two rooms with a small bathroom and utilities. However, when we arrived to the apartment complex, the first thing we saw was a huge government tanker squeezing through the complex’s narrow alley to deliver water. Proceeding the delivery, we saw women frantically coming out of their apartments with colorful buckets to stand in line for the water pump. I knew about the drought in Chennai, but the areas we were staying in were nice enough to afford water from other places. Our hotel still had running water, so we were shielded from the direct impacts of the drought. Right before me were the disproportionate consequences of poor water resource management on already underserved communities. Meanwhile, the heaviest flooding of 25 years was occurring on the opposite side of India, claiming over 1,600 lives. As a civil engineer, I felt dispirited. I felt frustration towards the lack of equally accessible and adequate infrastructure. I felt disheartened, as the effects of insufficient policy and planning were on full display. Later that summer, I found myself drinking chai with a Tibetan monk and a German teenager in the Himalayan mountains. As I translated between this unexpected pairing, the profundity of the situation struck me. Being bilingual allowed me to create understanding between vastly different people. Feeling the excitement in the air as a result of two unlikely parties communicating with each other was so invigorating. Although small, this interaction demonstrates the strength of vernaculars to establish trust and forge unlikely relationships. When applied to academics, the power of understanding various jargon and epistemologies is unrivaled. Participating in discourse across disciplines is crucial to solve our world’s most pressing, multifaceted issues. Therein is where my vocation lies: To be a bridge that connects disciplines that individually have extensive knowledge, but when united, have the ability to enact sustainable and inclusive change. Upon this realization, I looked far and wide for role models. Although I had just applied for a Fulbright in New Zealand to a Master’s in Climate Change Science and Policy, I knew I could not rely on it being a viable option. Fulbrights are already competitive, and New Zealand is even more so. I scoured for policy makers with civil engineering backgrounds on LinkedIn, I searched for civil engineering companies that valued community engagement and solving systemic issues, and I learned about potential fellowships in climate change, all for a chance to fuel the inspiration I felt throughout my time in India. Alas, none of the routes I found were the right fit. I felt like I was settling with every option. While the people I talked to were understanding and supportive of the work I want to do, none of their jobs nor research excited me enough. It reached a point to where I wondered if I was simply too naïve and eager, wondering if my dreams were too abstract to pin down. For a while, I thought I was going to have to settle for the rest of my life and vocation! Dramatic, I know. But, it’s disheartening when the work I want to do does not exist yet, at least commonly enough. That is, until, I talked to Dr. Carroll. Due to his work with Science Education for New Civil Engagement and Responsibilities (SENCER), he recommended to me a few people at University of Hawaii at Manoa to email. These emails quite literally may have changed my life over the course of a week. Upon receiving names of professors to contact at UH Manoa, I spent a Saturday afternoon asking for informational interviews. Four of the five professors responded within a week and set up a time to call, which was much higher of a response rate than I expected due to past attempts at informational interviews earlier in the quarter. This was my first inkling of insight into the approachability of the professors at UH Manoa. Of the five I emailed, there was one professor specifically in the civil engineering department whose research I felt aligned perfectly with my aspirations--Oceana Francis. Her research focuses on climate resilient infrastructure, coastal engineering, and sustainability. When I conducted my informational interview with her over Zoom, we discussed our shared values of community engagement and field work. Not only did I find Oceana’s research fulfilling and compelling and everything I wanted, I also felt a genuine connection that allowed unfiltered expression of my passions and concerns, which prompted her to share her advice and outlook on vocation. This one-hour call was that pure, genuine human interaction that reminded me of my summer in India. I left the conversation buzzing with excitement—I had finally found the role model I’d been yearning for! Not only do I have a role model now, but I also potentially have an advisor. Over email and the Zoom call, Oceana offered me a fully-funded graduate position to do research with her at UH Manoa. From when I first sent out an email to when I called Oceana, only five days had passed. Within five days, I went from having a very unlikely Plan A with no Plan B’s to having two equally fulfilling Plan A’s. I am still in shock. Is this really my life? Do I deserve this? In discussing my options with mentors and learning more about the UH Manoa Master’s program, I am leaning towards the UH Manoa graduate program even if I am awarded the Fulbright. It’s crazy, I know. I never expected myself to even remotely consider anything but the fellowship, but I think if I have learned anything from GSBF, the Fulbright application, and this UH Manoa experience it’s that life doesn’t always go as planned; that when doors swing open for you, it’s usually meant to be; that I will be okay. I used to think that I had to plan my entire life. I know it sounds silly when I say it, but the culture of career planning in high school and college is permeated with absolutism. It’s difficult not to internalize. Thinking back to almost a year ago when I was applying to GSBF, I remember the term “ambiguity” repeatedly coming up in my 1-1s and application questions. I’m pretty sure I discussed my fear of ambiguity in both my essays and interviews. Here’s an excerpt from my application: “I am a planner. Ever since I can remember, my mom drilled the importance of scheduling and time-management into me. My calendar is meticulously upkept, and I pencil in deadlines the day I receive them. However, I know that GSBF does not always have concrete due dates--there is frequent ambiguity, particularly in the field. Without guidelines, I feel like a fish out of water and have a difficult time prioritizing and completing projects to the best of my ability. Although planning has taken me thus far, I can foresee this tendency becoming an obstacle in GSBF.” I look back upon that time with fondness. All of what I wrote was my truth. I was very nervous about the potential lack of structure. I like structure. I like planning. But, because of the GSBF, I have a healthier relationship with structure and planning now. I depend on it less. I celebrate unknowns more. Resulting from classroom experiences to informational interviews to field research to networking at the accelerator, I feel comfortable in the face of ambiguity. In fact, I even welcome and revel in it. Ambiguity is scary and exciting. It’s scary, because ambiguity implies a muddled path with multiple options. It’s exciting, because ambiguity gives me, us, you the power to choose. It’s time to take hold of your dream and turn it into your future.
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