I was visiting a friend in their dorm - they share a space with three other people from diverse backgrounds. The roommate of this story is Eréndira (she/them), a Hispanic who majored in archaeology. Earlier that day, Eréndira had told my friend and I that they were going out, and we’d seen her outfit before she left - a traditional red Hispanic skirt, with a turtleneck and cardigan, as well as a beautiful handmade purse with beautiful patterns stitched onto the sides. She looked beautiful, and my friend and I told her as much before she left. She returned later and went straight to her room, closing the door as quiet as a mouse. My friend and I quieted, which then revealed to us that Eréndira was quietly sobbing in her room. At that point, I’d gotten up under the pretense of using the bathroom, but instead just washed my hands, staring blankly at myself in the mirror. The door to Eréndira’s room opened, and I saw from the mirror in front of me that they were awkwardly peeking out from behind the bathroom’s door-frame. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she sniffled before tentatively asking me, “Can you talk?” Her voice was hoarse from crying. She looked defeated, and that broke my heart. I’d nodded before drying my hands and quickly following Eréndira to her room. She shuffled around at first, saying something about how messy it was before sitting down on the floor. Rather than making eye contact with me, she picked at the carpet. She let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh, before her bottom lip trembled. “I’m so tired of being misgendered,” Eréndira began, her voice cracking. “I’m tired of people thinking I’m a guy, and I’m tired of having to deal with this -” she gestured at her body, “- every single day,” she finished with a sob. My heart cracked at Eréndira’s words. I knew that she struggled with severe depression, at one point having to call her therapist because she was thinking about suicide. I’d been there, though my situation wasn’t exactly the same, but I empathized with her heavily. Before this, I’d never had a deep discussion with Eréndira about their identity, and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing; so, I let them continue. “I was born with the wrong parts,” she started again, her words sharp, “and I hate it because it has never felt right. My dad isn’t happy with how I am, either." She sighed. "I wish I was a girl.” At that moment, I wished that I could do more than just listen and try to console her. Slowly, I responded, “I think that, right now, you’re trying your hardest to be comfortable in your current body, and that you’ll eventually come to a place where you love your body. It won’t be easy to get there, but I really want to see you arrive to that point in your life.” Eréndira and I have been in close contact after our conversation that day, and I'm proud to see how far they've come. Knowing what it's like to be a person of color whose family isn't supportive of their identity, I wanted to make sure that Eréndira knew they weren't alone. Eréndira's a strong person who I'm grateful to be friends with, and I wanted to share how she impacted me then and now. As I'm someone who meets many diverse people on a weekly basis, I always try to be considerate of their identities and pronouns.

As sea-levels rise and tropical storms become more common every year, I cannot help but worry for my relatives in the Philippines. My lola, in her early eighties, and all of my tita's and tito's that I haven't seen in years; all of my family that lives on those islands stay in my thoughts as I attend my classes for my major in environmental studies, learning more and more about the severe effects of climate change on Pacific islands. Those islands are at the highest risk of disappearing if sea level continues to rise at its current rate, and more of humanity needs to understand, acknowledge, and take action to reduce the effects of climate change on sea level. As ice continues to melt and the volume of the ocean expands, I've learned that it's much too late to stop what's happening to the Earth's ecosystem; however, I know that we, referring to the entirety of the human race, will inevitably recognize that things need to change. To help the Filipino-American community, I want to advocate about the effects of climate change to my fellow Filipino-Americans on campus, as well as other people of color. If they are unaware of how much climate change affects everyone, especially the Pacific islands, then I want to help them learn. If they are open to changing their behaviors (recycling, refraining from eating beef, etc.), then I will teach them. While I understand some might not want to change their behaviors, and the way to have the greatest effect on reducing carbon emissions isn't simply changing the minds of a few of my peers, I can't walk into the offices of big-brand CEOs and demand they alter their company policies toward more regenerative and sustainable production. Instead, I can do my part to inform my peers about how to take steps toward living more sustainably. What's more, if I can somehow travel or communicate with my Filipino relatives during this pandemic, I would like to catch up with them, first and foremost. Then, I would try to explain to them my major and what I've learned, and ask them if there's any way I could help them in living more sustainably, giving them suggestions to how they could improve in their daily lives. I love my culture as a Filipino-American, and I want to make my mark on the community as an environmentalist.