For some of us, the challenge was navigating a career transition. for others, it was getting back into the rhythm of school — and let's just say Chonira's Economics course did not make that learning curve a gentle one.

I had some of these questions too and many others. And as I looked around at my amazing set of classmates, one key question came to mind : who did I want to be during this chapter of my life?

As our first quarter kicked into full steam, we began developing solutions quickly.

Our solution to surviving Chonira's rigorous Economics homework was to build our own little supply chain in the basement of Green Library, where finishing a problem would move you to the next table until you made it through the assignment. Conversely, we learned that to survive Alain’s class… ask Gaby. RJ discovered he could substitute the company of his wiener dogs with his cohort, and became the regular host of our after-class lunches at Arbuckle. That's really where we started to bond.

We all started to laugh more, with Funmbi's infectious laugh becoming something of a soundtrack to our class experience. We took trips to Sausalito and Napa Valley. We celebrated each other's wins, especially in athletics — whether it was Ella's incredible mountain biking treks or Yukiko finishing a 10K all the way in Japan. My title as the baby of the cohort was quickly overtaken by actual babies — Chris's — followed by Christian's, and now we have one more MIP baby on the way. We made time for each other, whether it be Ran's occasional tea gatherings, Humzah’s SF professional happy hour, or Santiago who made it his mission to include us all in the various traditions at the GSB.

Of course, it wasn't all laughs, things did get intense. McFaul dinners were always entertaining — partly for the great food, and partly because you knew the spiciest part of our political conversations would soon appear on McFaul's Substack. A heated race for International Policy Student Association President ended in a military coup, resulting in a dictatorship that lasted until approximately April 2026 — when Haolie's manifesto was finally taken down from the MIP common space. And I'm fairly certain Shin-Haeng and Elena are still debating who received the shiniest wedding ring by the end of the program.

But through all of it we grew together, and the passion and full presence of my cohort gave me an answer to my own question about who I needed to be here.

It was through Kylie, a phenomenal writer who spent her days challenging the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction, who also found her outlet by merging her love of filmmaking with nuclear activism. It was Tennyson, who balanced helping to educate he next generation of political science students with scriptwriting and dramatic arts. It was Malou — learning two languages, and serving as an awarded resident advisor — who still found time to take salsa classes, which, for the record, she did not need. It was Shin-Haeng, the diplomat who could tell you everything about everyone in this cohort, who almost never missed a class unless it was to slip out for golf lessons.

It was Sophia, who by guiding her capstone team through Ukraine, letting the resilience and spirit of her people speak for itself all while exploring local municipal bond financing. It was Amit, whose studies in economics gave us a lifeline in our first quarter, also showing no mercy to his classmates on the pickleball court. And it was Humzah — a natural convener— hosting events that bridged our program with the School of Business, a task that made sense for him because that man could sell you on anything.

Through these examples and many others, people brought their full selves to the table. And what that taught me was that no matter who I wanted to become or where I wanted to go, I didn't have to lose myself in the process. It inspired me to think differently, to take the less obvious path, to lean into the unfamiliar.

And now, as we approach the end of our program, we can see how far that openness has taken us.

In classic Stanford fashion, the curious and endearing Cosima channeled her love of geopolitics and public service into founding a startup. Luke is now a Second Lieutenant — a remarkable achievement that is only slightly overshadowed by completing the Bay to Breakers 12K two years in a row. We have colleagues who have published research, attended conferences, and made a real impact, and folks like Funmibi who can do all of that and still find the time to immediately post it on social media.

And last but not least, our community has only grown — from dual-degree students like Ashraf whose summer highlight included working with investment bankers, to the meet-cutes and the marriages of Humzah, Khalifa, Shin-Haeng, and Elena, whose partners have become honorary members of our graduating class.

And so, we arrive at the final phase: implementation.

These two years have not been all sunshine and rainbows. Uncertainties around visa situations continue to affect some of us even as we walk across this stage. Sudden policy changes left contracts unfulfilled, causing real disruption to our plans and our lives. And across the world, things have not been much smoother. We have been confronted with war, genocide, even geoeconomic fragmentation.

For many of us, this may not have been the world we expected to step back into. But if there is something I want to leave with our cohort — and I promise it is the most earnest piece of advice I can offer — it's this: keep doing what you're doing.

Don’t let the weight of the world we are entering stop you from showing up as your full self. The work you do may sometimes feel thankless — but each of you are planting seeds. And the most powerful thing about this cohort is that none of the seeds we plant look the same. From the diplomat on her way to an unforeseen country in Latin America, the political activist trying out tech startup scene, and even to the Special Forces Officer who is already road-tripping to his next posting — these turns from the expected path are not distractions from your impact, they are your impact. They are what makes your contribution to this world yours and no one else's.
 

So, despite how uncertain things may feel, I want to ask each of you to hold onto what made you, you. Continue to bring your unique lens to every room you enter. Think differently. Ask the uncomfortable question. Take the less-traveled path. And continue to shine — not because the world will always reward you for it, but because that light is yours to give.

As I conclude my capstone presentation, I want to take a moment to thank my family and friends for supporting me every step of the way. To my mother, who sat by my side after long days of work to help teach me how to multiply, thank you for your patience and your love. To my father, who after long days as a mechanic still made sure to dress me in my Sunday best every week— thank you for your dedication and your sacrifice. To my grandmother, whose stories of Cuba first sparked my curiosity about the world beyond my own — thank you for planting that seed.

And to this cohort — for every laugh shared, every piece of advice given, every memory made — thank you.

Please join me in congratulating the Stanford MIP graduating class of 2026.