Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Chance to Forge a New Legacy

2729236629I have only one picture of myself alone taped above my desk. In it I’m no older than four years old and sporting the quintessential ’90s androgynous bull-cut. I’m smiling blissfully and more than likely wondering where my mom had hidden my Batman action figures so that she could keep me still long enough to take the picture. And although there are countless numbers of precious pictures like this one stashed away in my family’s basement — my parents always told me I was cuter than the Olsen twins — this one is particularly special to me. On top of that timeless bull-cut and unusually large 4-year-old head lies my first ever piece of Georgetown paraphernalia: my very own Hoya hat.

How did I get a Georgetown hat as a 4-year-old, you might ask? The answer is that I am a legacy. My parents met and — like all true Georgetown romances — fell in love at a keg party. My great-uncle has his own plaque on The Tombs’ bar, and my oldest brother still, almost literally, bleeds Hoya blue. Yet, for the past four years, I have generally kept this legacy information to myself. At a school like Georgetown, the term “legacy” comes with innumerable assumptions: “My parents bought my way in,” “I’m not quite as smart as all the other high school valedictorians here.” “I only came here because it was expected of me.”

Most of these, if not all, are entirely untrue. I don’t know if you’ve looked into the statistics recently, but it would take a pretty hefty bit of money to buy your way in to Georgetown. I worked pretty hard in high school for my 4.0 GPA and my parents were far from pressuring me into coming here. In fact, my parents spent so much time insisting that there was absolutely no pressure to come to Georgetown that they almost discouraged it.

But despite all this, my relationship with Georgetown has been contentious. With so much of a history preceding me, I had — I thought — a very clear understanding of what my life here was supposed to be like. I would attend every home basketball game I could, never miss Midnight Madness and unquestionably participate in 99 Days. Yet, as I settled into my own niche here, met the people I would call my best friends and joined the clubs that sparked my interests, it didn’t pan out this way. I found a different rhythm and settled in comfortably with the “hipster” crowd. But my predisposed assumptions of Georgetown still nagged me. Why don’t I have more of a need to be at the basketball games? Will I really not experience everything if I don’t do 99 Days? I didn’t avoid these traditions in order to be reactionary or “different.” I wasn’t stubbornly resisting them. The truth is I felt unappreciative. Here I am in the middle of our capital, with every opportunity given to me and fortunate enough to be at a school envied by so many, and yet I couldn’t give Georgetown what I thought I was supposed to. I couldn’t bring myself to eat, sleep and breathe our basketball team or be dedicated enough to spend $200 or more at The Tombs in three months’ time; as an employee of the fine establishment, I insist on at least breaking even. Despite how close I am with my family, I know that if we were all students here at the same time we would not be at the same parties or part of the same clubs. And I let this weigh on me.

But here I am now, the day before graduation, and I know that my worries were unfounded. Not everyone I have met here is my best friend, and I have disagreed with many of them. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter, because every person I don’t agree with, I learn from. For every person I don’t call my friend, I count two more my best friends. You see, that’s the most beautiful thing I learned about Georgetown: For all the lists it’s been put on, for all the stereotypes it carries, if you look hard enough, there’s someone, something or some place at Georgetown for everyone.

Meagan Kelly is a senior in the College. She is a former photo editor of The Hoya.

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