It doesn’t feel long since I was a freshman, sitting in this same bed, not writing a farewell article, but building a pastel-pink Squarespace site for a food blog while recovering from COVID. In my first three days of quarantine, I binged Jane the Virgin. Jane, Rafael, and Sin Rostro echoed in my ears as I brainstormed blog names. Someone The Something. Someone The Foodie. I thought of my nickname, Juj, which was created just months before by my field hockey coaches. I wanted the name to have a ring to it.
Juji The Foodie.
So, there it was, an almost-blank website ready to be filled with good times. And I loved writing so much that it brought me to “The Weekly” in my junior year, and gosh, I wish I had joined the newspaper sooner.
As much confidence and excitement as I had about Juji The Foodie, it wasn’t a smooth journey. As a twin, nothing ever felt like mine. In general, there aren’t a lot of things that are just one person’s. JTF was in my hands only, and that meant it was easy to take. A lot of people (even “friends”) laughed at me, called the blog weird, and yelled Juji The Foodie down the hallway like it was a slur. There were moments when I nearly took the website down. I owe Parker for pushing me to stay with it.
Under this education, I was tasked with being my authentic self. I was told that whatever other people say about me is none of my business. I was encouraged to do what I was passionate about without limitations. If those ideas hadn’t been told to me — or shown to me — I would have never created JTF in the first place. And I definitely wouldn’t have stuck with it past freshman year.
As a freshman, I remember watching certain upperclassmen in awe. Whether it was in how they dressed, led, or spoke, I could see that they were being totally themselves. I wanted to achieve that completeness. In a way I never would have expected as a freshman, JTF allowed me to. It became a melting pot of everything I love: spending time with good people, graphic design, writing, commenting on politics, releasing dry humor, and, of course, eating. People calling me Juji The Foodie used to feel insulting, but now I realize that I have achieved something I have always wanted: to have something that’s entirely me and belongs to no one else.
As I leave Parker, I have two requests.
First, take on something of your own. Think of something beyond the sports team you play on, the place you work, or the clubs you lead. Create something that is entirely you and that no one else can touch, even if they try to. Choose something that defines you and pushes you to be strong in the face of adversity and demands for conformity.
If you don’t do that, at least do this: define yourself by what you love, not by what you hate. If you find yourself commenting on someone else, take a look inward and see if you have the same bravery and authenticity that they have. I remind myself daily that love will always be stronger than hate. Fight for what’s yours. If your happiness, joy, and passion don’t please someone, then you have no obligation to please them back. In fact, please don’t, because they don’t deserve how awesome of a person you likely are.
In my fourteen years here, Parker has taught me to never be afraid of learning. That’s a pretty cool thing. It means that I’ll always be curious and passionate about what I do, and willing to explore and share with others. Parker is definitely not a school built around the individual—our embryonic democracy and Corinthian tradition kind of get in the way of that—but it provides us with the tools and experiences we need to step into ourselves and do something original.
I hope that when you reach May of your senior year, you understand all of this. Even with all the things we could complain about, we need to give credit to this institution for the passion that fills these halls. You could say we have too many clubs, that our sports teams are unfit, or that people “care too much.” These aren’t negatives. We have so many clubs because people are always talking. Our sports teams may not be the best, but they are driven. And people who “care too much” are the ones who take the opportunity and run with it until they discover something amazing about themselves.
All of these wonderful things about Parker are why I started Juji The Foodie and kept with it, and I will obviously continue as I explore what seems to be a questionable but not entirely horrible food scene in St. Louis. See? I’m not afraid to learn!
To Parker and those who inspire me,
Juji
