A Rambling of Thoughts: GHC

I am a strong woman in tech

I am a strong woman in tech

I am a strong woman in tech

I kept telling myself that as I waded my way through the monstrosity called the career fair at the Grace Hopper Conference just last week.

I skirted around the fabulous booths of Google, Facebook, and Microsoft, because well unlike many others who were throwing their resumes at recruiters and engineers, I had already gotten rejected. But I couldn’t stand the awkward air when one of those recruiters made eye contact with me multiple times as I walked past, and I couldn’t help but go talk to her. As she took photos of my resume and asked me logistical questions of when I would graduate and where else I’m interviewing, I couldn’t help but think “She’s gonna find out that the person she spent 10 minutes with has already been put in the throw away pile.”

I went to other company booths mainly to ask questions about their engineering culture, what’s been their favorite part of the company, etc. All those questions where you would hear the same words used over and over again.

“We have such an open culture!”

“We’re incredibly collaborative”

“Work-life balance here is amazing”

But I still asked these questions in hopes of finding somewhere where I could feel more at home. My previous experience in tech had pushed me and I have come out with the joys of feeling accomplished for finding bugs and fixing them, but that feeling wouldn’t last beyond that. I couldn’t bring myself to make an elevator pitch, the way many others would simply whip out their resume and start listing off their technical passions and their accomplishments. I feel incredibly indebted to the people I have gotten support from, and I still struggle to really believe that I am a strong woman in tech.

I am a strong woman in tech… right?

I find that my interests in college have varied significantly. My academics in computer science are not reflected in my leadership in the Asian American community, and then both are not reflected in my escape from reality with playing violin. I want to do all of them, but I’ve felt constrained to prioritize and only pick one for a career. I had now just accepted that if I stay in tech, I would be siloed to just code and not have any other sort of influence or part in other spheres of my life, because I’m not good at multi-tasking! I’m not good at letting my life be day and night, work and life.

But really, all I want is to be enthusiastic, to be excited for the work I end up doing. That has made me very impressionable because I want to reflect the enthusiasm that others show me at each and every booth I’ve gone to. So while I am hearing these same words over and over again from each recruiter, I find myself more and more enthusiastic…but when I go back to try to unpack what it is I liked about them, I turn up empty-handed.

But even before I delve into thinking about where I want to work, am I even qualified or worthy to work in these places? I’m afraid of overestimating my abilities and not being able to follow through with my claims. Maybe that’s why I air on the side of talking very little about myself and what I do. We all know there’s that thing called imposter syndrome and we all know that theoretically everyone experiences it. I’m glad to say it’s not crippling me as it used to…but it is still a huge presence in my life.

While I do have all of these thoughts running through my head, Grace Hopper is an incredible space. While I have these doubts, GHC works to dismantle them and to remind us that we are affected by the system that works against us, a system that is not in our favor. Hearing testimonials of women who have accomplished so many and overcome many hardships does remind me that we are our own biggest and harshest critics, and a lot of times we put limits on ourselves.

I can always change. I can always work harder, seek more advice and input. And while it is important that I do my own part to better myself, it’s okay and it’s actually important to find a community such as the one in GHC to remind myself: I am more than my resume and my interviews.

A Rambling of Thoughts: GHC

“Reading and writing are in themselves subversive acts. What they subvert is the notion that things have to be the way they are, that you are alone, that no one has ever felt the way you have…. Imagine that.”
― Mark Vonnegut

“Welcome home, President Starr!” — Ashley Pallie, Pomona College Associate Director of Admissions


4 years ago, I was an eager prospective student whose favorite question to ask current Pomona students was this: “how do you think attending Pomona College has empowered you in a way that no other school could have?” I imagined attending a school where opportunities are not only available but truly accessible, where students nurtured each others’ intellectual curiosity, and where we are immersed in an endless array of ideas that cultivate the empathy and innovation needed to conquer society’s problems.

As a senior, I can confidently confirm, President Starr, that you have come into a community of the curious and a place full of potential. We were all invited into this community because someone identified our potential to contribute to Pomona and to the world, and we came because we believe in Pomona’s potential to empower us to achieve our dreams.

And since our arrival, we have continued to be curious about the implications of our learning by asking ourselves: “What kind of world do we want to build within and beyond Pomona?” When reflecting on my time at Pomona what impresses me most is how members of our community advocate for the potential in what this incredible institution can and should offer for students, regardless of their identities, and how members take ownership to empower the spaces they occupy once they depart.

Given my reflections, I have the highest hopes, moving forward, about what empowerment means within and beyond our community.

First, I hope that the intellectual, emotional, and physical labor of everyone in this community is sincerely and appropriately recognized.

Second, I hope that the next generation of leaders, scholars, artists and engaged members of society who are educated here exemplify the unique and necessary power of a liberal arts education.

Lastly, I hope our global community engages in enriching and difficult discussions while remembering what former student body President Christina Tong said about how few of us are insulated from the real implications of our discussions. After all, the term “global community” not only characterizes the diversity within our community, but also captures the global gaze that is upon us as we set a high standard regarding how principles of respect, inclusion, and intellectual freedom should be negotiated.

Dear President Starr, I cannot wait to see how you bring in your deep knowledge of imagination and creativity to animate ideas that help us build a Pomona that is, as you have said, “equitable, accessible and a truly free civic space that helps our community achieve every part of our potential.” Thank you.


“Welcome home, President Starr!” — Ashley Pallie, Pomona College Associate Director of Admissions

Tidbits of Summer 2017 (July-October)

“I can’t think of a better place to start the tour than SF. Dunno how else to say it in any way other than that this is a woke place hahaha, it’s great to start performing in a place that truly celebrates the message behind this musical and truly welcomes and embraces us for who we are just as we are. But…it’ll be interesting to see when we go to places that may not agree with us, and we at least get the opportunity to challenge their thinking”


“when I was auditioning for Hamilton, it was the first time I wasn’t thinking about my race. I know I look ambiguous and most of the time I’m worried at auditions whether I look white enough black enough for the role. But this was the first time those questions were not on my mind and I could focus less on whether I look like I fit the role and focus solely on the art”


What role would you wanna play if not your own?
“I used to think I wanted to be Aaron Burr. But I play Eliza and I realize that all the female roles I’ve ever seen and played…. They talk about the man. And Hamilton is the same way kinda, Hamilton wants a wife and Eliza pops up! And tbh while Burr isn’t a girl….. He does talk about Hamilton a lot almost like a love interest haha. So now I wish that I could have a role where I talk about my own thoughts interests desires! SO IF I EVER GOT THE CHANCE TO PLAY HAMILTON I WILL TAKE IT!”


“Create a world like no one has ever seen before”


“If you wanna be there, that’s already 50% there”


“Everything we do will have tech involved, and if we don’t have good people building these products, it can literally change the course of someone’s life”

“You are your only constraint”

Tidbits of Summer 2017 (July-October)

the intellectual, emotional, and social impact of pursuing classical music

1. How has classical music influenced you?

As a senior in college, I often reflect upon how various experiences — especially those that are typically undervalued or seen as tangential and frivolous — have impacted me intellectually, emotionally, and socially, and how the synergy of these experiences contributes to who I am today. 

I have been playing the piano for 16 years, and classical music has undoubtedly 1) helped me cultivate important and widely-transferrable skills, 2) empowered me with the ability to express myself and the confidence to engage in creative agency, and 3) filled my life with joy!

Playing the piano has taught me how to coach myself through many different types of “difficult performances.”

Whether it be a presenting a complicated deck or leading a long club meeting, there are so many situations during which I have had to complete a mentally (and potentially emotionally) difficult task in front of many different types of people.

Mistakes are inevitable during any kind of public performance — be it a presentation, speech, athletic game, recital, etc. Sometimes, the mistakes are huge and obviously humiliating, but at other times, the mistakes are small but still rattle you up. Regardless, in moments of panic, despair, and frustration, a performer has no one but themselves to turn to for the resilience to continue gracefully. In these moments, the performer is their own coach — what they say to themselves matters greatly and changes the course of the performance.

Performing classical piano from a young age taught me how to handle those moments — I learned to shift my focus away from the technical mishaps and towards the emotional arc of the piece, and learned to listen so intently to the overarching sound I envisioned that I could put the mistake behind me. I was able to make these quick mental shifts because my experiences performing taught me that what I find most rewarding about music is to take what a musical genius has written and to co-create different musical moments with this genius. In other words, performing frequently taught me to focus on what matters most to me — which, in the case of classical music, is to deliver an emotionally compelling performance. This focus enables me to focus away from technical stumbles, and motivated me to deliver an even more emotionally compelling performance to make up for technical imperfections. This ability has also helped me cope with mistakes during other types of “performances,” such as delivering a presentation: I learn to let go of small slips in a specific wording or gesture I had planned, and recalibrate my attention to focus on the overall message.

So how do I prepare for “coaching myself” in every moment of a piano performance? While practicing, I identify high-level concepts within my pieces. High-level concepts, such as how the musical momentum of the moment fits into the overall narrative structure of the piece, motivate and contextualize the technical details by providing a layer of abstraction above them. And throughout the piece, by focusing on the higher-level concepts, I can see beyond comparatively insignificant technical blunders and remain fixated on the bigger goals of the performing the piece.

Furthermore, focusing on these high-level concepts requires me to be untethered from worrying about technical details, so I usually always memorize pieces weeks before the performance so that no technical concerns crowd my mind in the moment of the performance. 

Thus, during the weeks leading up to a competition or concert, I’m no longer practicing the technical aspects of the piece — instead, I’m practicing the messages I have to tell myself (“imagine the plume of a peacock fanning out gloriously under the sun,” “visualize a thin plastic bag being swept around by the wind swirling between towering NYC skyscrapers”)  at different points of the piece in order to fully convey the color and energy of the monument, and to maintain the musical message I want to convey.

Tackling new piano pieces has taught me how to learn different types of information in novel settings. 

This past summer, even though I worked as a PM for a large tech company, I’ve clearly seen how my training as a classical musician contributes to my ability to approach ambiguity and to problem solve in the workplace. Additionally, my experiences as the Music Director (MD) of my college a cappella group showed me the important ways that my classical music training has enabled me to confront a huge task, break it down into smaller pieces, and to efficiently master those small pieces so that I can lead a group to achieve a significant task.

So what are the parallels between learning piano pieces and learning on the PM job or leading a cappella rehearsals? Let me explain how I think the process of learning piano pieces (and more specifically, preparing for piano lessons) has cultivated a broader capacity for learning.

Even though I meet with my piano teacher every week, we mostly go over important musical concepts to practice, and general technical goals to achieve for the following week. That means it’s mostly up to me to figure out how to get myself from my current state to my goal state. It’s up to me to motivate myself, to plan out different drills / methods of practicing that build on each other, every day, until my next lesson. The process of planning and “coaching” myself involves the important skills of  1) understanding the overall goal, 2) breaking it down into actionable smaller goals, 3) creating a weekly plan, 4) observing your progress, 5) synthesizing patterns among what is and isn’t working, 6) making necessary changes, and 7) holding myself accountable to that plan.

So how do these skills apply to being a PM and a MD?

An important part of being a PM is creating structure out of ambiguity, but more generally, there’s a huge difference between learning in any workplace environment and in any industry role versus learning at school. In college, professors 1) provide a curated curriculum of carefully scaffolded topics and 2) provide assignments that help you practice the topic in preparation for a specific form of assessment. However, at work, I’m often confronted with a question to which there is no one answer, and as an intern, I’m likely the only one who understands close to nothing about the topic. Although my manager sets out goals for me to accomplish, I often lack so much of the necessary knowledge and have to create my own structures for figuring out and learning what I need to know. Thus, it becomes very important to 1) articulate what I DO know, 2) explain, based on what I already know, what I need to know to take the next logical step in my understanding of a topic, 3) connect with the relevant resources to create next steps for understanding the topic, and 4) review and possibly revise my plan for progressing towards my goal.

When I began serving as the Music Director of my a cappella group, I soon realized that while everyone in the group has an amazing voice, there is a lot of variation in the musical training / background among different members of the group. For example, I, personally, have been singing for 12 years and have also played piano for a long time, so many aspects of musicality come naturally to me. However, that was probably the case for only half of the members of my a cappella group. Even though everyone has an outstanding voice, the variation in the knowledge about blending, musical notation, dynamics, and the variation in sightreading ability made it so that I couldn’t just make a comment and expect everyone to know what to do with it.

Being Music Director requires a lot of multitasking, because you have to listen to a run through of the song, pick up on things to improve (balance, tone, pitch, dynamics, articulation, phrasing…), prioritize what to work on and when to work on it, and think of an efficient and interesting way to drill that section, all while the group continues to sing. And you can’t wait too long after the group stops singing before asking everyone to turn to a section to work on something, because if people wait for too long, they start to chat and wander off. Furthermore, the variation in musical training poses an additional challenge: ensuring that rehearsals are productive, accessible, and interesting for everyone, regardless of their musical background. 

I believe that my experiences in learning how to most efficiently practice piano have helped me to be a more effective music director, by informing my decisions about how to break down my vision of the piece into smaller parts, to practice those parts. For example, these are some things that I actively do to keep rehearsals interesting, fun, and productive for everyone, regardless of musical background:

  • I make sure that when I explain something for the first time, I explain it clearly, so rehearsal doesn’t erupt in a confused mess that people remember every time I revisit that section to sing or drill.
  • If I revisit that section and realize that people had forgotten what the group had worked on before, don’t rehearse the section in the same way. That gets tedious. Try to drill it in a different way!

Playing the piano has enabled me to build and pursue relationships forged through shared passions.

I’ve made my very closest friends (including DaEun!!) through music. Classical piano was one of the first extracurriculars I pursued (in tandem with choral singing and art), and it has provided me with opportunities to serve as an accompanist and to be served in creating and expressing myself.  

There’s nothing as thrilling, emotionally engaging, and deeply satisfying as sitting in an ensemble with fellow musicians, confident that each person is bringing their talents and musicianship to rehearsal, smiling at each other during beautiful moments of the piece, finishing off a successful run through, and wrapping up and grabbing food together afterwards. ❤

Playing the piano for 16 years has taught me how to develop close, 1-on-1 relationships with adults.

My piano teachers throughout elementary and middle school were the first adults with whom I learned to develop a relationship. Our lessons would often diverge from piano pieces to conversations about school and friends. I learned to speak up with questions and to accept direct feedback in stride, and have become more comfortable approaching and building relationships with adults in any sphere of life.

Playing the piano has been instrumental in helping me to cultivate the skills involved in close social and artistic observation.

Ever since middle school, I’ve also had the opportunity serve as an accompanist for various vocal and instrumental ensembles. Being an accompanist has helped me cultivate the ability to constantly be observant and aware of what others express, to infer their intent, and to respond in a way that affirms and supports that intent.

From the perspective of the untrained audience, the accompanist appears to just “play the background music,” but I believe that a good accompanist plays a much more active role. Although the accompanist frequently rehearses with the soloist, during the performance, the accompanist must still pay close attention to every change in the soloist’s movement and sound, inferring the intended pacing, texture, momentum, and dynamic arc of the upcoming passage, and calibrate her own playing to best support the soloist. For example, questions such as Where is the soloist taking the momentum of this moment? How, dynamically and timing-wise will the soloist ease out of this explosive climax? are always in the back of my mind.

The accompanist often just fades into the background because in many ways, if the accompanist is seamlessly supporting the soloist, the accompanist amplifies the soloist’s playing and draws all the attention to the soloist. These skills — observing closely, inferring future actions, and calibrating oneself to adjust to others — are extremely important in navigating any kind of social interaction.

I’ll again use the example of being a MD.

As the MD, I’m in charge of the pace and atmosphere of every rehearsal, and I definitely feel the pressure to keep every moment efficient and fun. Through this leadership position, I realized the importance of constantly gauging everyone’s energy level and responding appropriately, while keeping long-term goals in mind. I also had to constantly model positivity, think fast, and respond diplomatically when there were disagreements during rehearsal.

Furthermore, as someone who is very familiar with music theory, is fortunate to have perfect pitch, and has cultivated “artistic observation” through many different media, I am also able to enjoy arranging and composing both instrumental ensemble and  a cappella music. I always feel an impulse to CREATE and RECREATE and CO-CREATE, and possessing the necessarily musical knowledge and ability has helped me develop an overall courage to experiment with and express myself in different ways.



2. What do you think is a misconception people have around classical music? What is something you wish people knew about classical music?

I think many people believe that classical music is outdated,  antiquated, and inaccessible. However, I think anyone can come to appreciate the timeless delight, angst, ebullience, and grief, expressible through classical music.

I wish people knew that anyone, at any age, can learn how to listen to and understand classical music. The ability to understand any form of human expression — be it through literature, visual art, film, music — arises from a basic understanding of the vocabulary and syntax of  the art form’s constituent elements. We more deeply literature after we understand the words used, the literary strategies employed, and how common themes are followed or flouted, etc. Furthermore, while one can understand the basic emotion of a piece of classical music by passively listening to it, the music holds more meaning if one learns to, for example, 1) identify a theme, 2) understand why its use at certain parts of the piece makes sense given the traditional structure of the piece, and 3) why a harmonic alteration to the theme is surprising and thus evokes emotion and furthers the composer’s message through the piece. And I believe that these are things anyone can learn through reading, listening to lectures available on the internet, and attending concerts! 


the intellectual, emotional, and social impact of pursuing classical music

The Power of Names

I am rarely someone who puts my opinion online or offer my opinion publicly when events are in motion, unless it’s with the very closest of friends. Oftentimes, I broach the topic to hear others’ opinions… because I never felt like I had much to offer or anything new to add. But this summer has got me thinking a lot about something that may seem minute but it has taken ahold of me and I’ve only now recognized how important it is to me: my name.

My name is, first and foremost, 김다은. That’s in the Korean language. It’s the name gifted to me from my grandmother, meaning “warmthful love.” Coming to America at the age of 10 months old, not even a year old, my parents attempted to romanize my name, which brings us to Da Eun Kim. Of course when I was younger, I was not self-conscious about my name, and when I was living in Texas, I was surrounded by a community of family friends who were also all Korean. So there was never any trouble in saying my name. But after I moved to New York and started going through elementary school, I began to realize that my name was difficult to pronounce. In the hope of not attracting too much attention to myself, I went ahead and manipulated the way I pronounced my name to DAH-OON so that it was easier to roll off the tongue for people who spoke English. Not only that, but I couldn’t bear to have people stare at me in confusion and contempt when I tried to introduce myself. And in my new New York school, there were 2 other Asian Americans and they were also Korean. But the biggest difference between me and them was that they were born in America and given English names as well as Korean names from birth. I was left with just Da Eun.

Needless to say, I spent much of my childhood pouring myself over books and reading about the Mirandas and Sarahs and Lucilles and just wishing for myself that I could have an English name. And the most dreaded question to this day for me is: “What’s your name?” In elementary school, I got a myriad of responses similar to this:

“What’s your name?”

“Da Eun.”

“…uh what?”

“Da Eun.”

“…how do you spell that?”

I get this response still, even after trial and error of me trying to figure out the best way to say my name without departing too much from the actual name while desperately hoping that people can pronounce this romanized name in one try. As I have gotten older, it has definitely gotten better to an extent. I don’t get looks of disgust and confusion, and I’ve grown a thicker skin in braving through those conversations where I’m asked to repeat my name 5 times.

But it really doesn’t just end here.

In high school, I was incredibly fond of the teachers I had, especially in the STEM field. While English and history were not my strong suits and I for the most part dreaded writing coherent papers, math and chemistry and science were solvable in my book. I never hesitated to raise my hand to ask questions and participate. Those were also spaces where I found myself getting courage to speak up and occasionally question the answers and explanations teachers gave me. I thought I felt mutual respect.

One day in the middle of May, less than a month away from the end of the school year, I was doing my work in one of my science classes, taught by one of my favorite teachers. I’ve gone on errands for her and I have been able to talk to her about things other than school. That day, she looked up at me, looking a little confused, and said “Da Eun, can you bring me that book at the back of the room?” Everything about this question was normal, except for my name. DAY-OON, she said. For a split second, I was shocked. How could my favorite teacher, who I talk to every single day, in the classroom where I talk to my friends all the time and they say my name… miss my name? At the end of the school year? She’s pronounced it fine this entire time, why now? For the rest of year, I kept mental note of how many times she would call my name. She said my name only two more times, but both times it was DAY-OON. I wasn’t necessarily frustrated or angry, I was just flustered because this was the first time anything like this had happened. It was a situation where you would think you’ve gotten past this big obstacle of introducing yourself with a name that should be romanized enough to be pronounced that you can move on and nurture that relationship further… but I felt like I was back at square 1, except I had already had this connection with this person FOR A YEAR. I didn’t do much about it, but as you can see, I still have that memory to this day, 7 years later.

NOTE: By high school, I had moved to California and I went to a school that was predominantly white, but there was a good percentage of Asian students. I actually lived in a neighborhood of all Korean families, and many of the girls were in my year. The common narrative I would hear from those girls was how they would be talking to a classmate and they would mention me, but the classmate would have no idea who they were talking about, something like:

“Yeah, I think 다은 is taking this class!”



“Oh! Cool!”

Luckily, these girls had caught on that I completely mispronounce my name just to make it remotely easier for non-Koreans to pronounce my name, and they would readjust immediately depending on who they talked to, but it also gave me this pretense that oh, only Koreans will ever be able to pronounce my name correctly or care to.

Now comes college. I still went through this motion of introducing myself as DAH-OON and it for the most part went off without a hitch. Winter quarter of freshmen year, I was mainly hanging out with 3 guys in my freshmen dorm. Jokes were always being had, and it was overall a group that I genuinely had a lot of fun with. One day, I came back from class and met up with the 3 guys, and one of them looked at me really seriously and said,

Can you teach me how to pronounce your name correctly? I know that you must be saying it wrong so that it’s easier for me to say it, but I genuinely want to learn the correct way.

I originally brushed it away, saying “oh no, it’s totally fine, I don’t mind at all.” But then the other two hopped in, saying that they wanted to learn. After maybe 5 minutes of repeating my name over and over again, I thought to myself “It’s whatever, they’ll probably forget how to say it, and that’s still fine.”

To my surprise, for the next three weeks, each one of them would stop me when they’d see me down the hall, and they’d repeat my name multiple times and wouldn’t stop until I told them that was the right pronunciation. And to this day, those 3 guys now say my name. My true name. 다은. And while I couldn’t have said it then, I can say now how I want to thank them for taking my name seriously.

Fast forward to this summer when I was interning. I still haven’t gotten rid of the habit of calling myself DAH-OON but again, for the most part, people are able to say this fine. I felt mostly supported, especially as a woman in tech, and I know that’s not what many people get to say. Halfway through my internship, I found myself in a biweekly meeting and by this time, all of the interns’ names had been added to the agenda for the part of the meeting where we go around the room talking about our upcoming tasks. The meeting is led by the person who usually reviews my code after my host, so I would say that a relationship had been established by this point where I could ask him for help and we could make small talk. But when it came time for the interns to speak, he said, “Okay DAY-YOON, what are you up to this week?” A jolt ran through me, kind of like deja vu, because this was so similar to what had happened to me years ago in the science classroom. Like…really? Again? After the meeting, I sort of sat in my chair in a daze, replaying that moment. It might seem like a small little detail, but what was eating away at me was that this summer, I had come in with the mindset of wanting to do my contribution of creating a more inclusive workspace. I made it a challenge for myself of where if I saw or heard any sort of microaggression toward coworkers, I wanted to say something for them if they couldn’t say anything themselves. I had been thinking along the lines of racial or gender-related microaggressions that I always read about in those Medium articles. But here I was, dazed and upset with myself for not being able to stop the meeting lead for a second and say, “it’s pronounced 다은.” And you know why I couldn’t bring myself to say that? Because I was afraid that I would be rude to interrupt the meeting to correct him. I can’t even begin to explain how much that ate away at me for the rest of the summer, every time he said my name in that biweekly meeting, completely butchered.

And you know what sucks even more? The fact that I thought I was right for thinking it would be rude of me to correct him. I didn’t fully realize how harmful that mindset was for myself until I grabbed lunch with a coworker for the first time near the end of my internship, and the first thing he said to me was, “I’m sorry, but am I saying your name correctly?” My immediate reaction was relief. Relief that it wasn’t so crazy for me to hope that people would want to pronounce my name correctly. And when I say correctly, I mean the way I had romanized my name to DAH-OON, so NOT EVEN THE REAL TRUE PRONUNCIATION 다은.

Okay but what is the whole point of all of this?

I’m not saying I expect people to pronounce 다은 correctly. It’s a hard name to pronounce and it does not even come from the English language. I’m not saying I expect people to all act like my 3 friends from freshmen year who spent time in their day to pronounce it correctly. I’m not.

But I want to shed light that something as simple as your name… can hold so much power and influence over the person, and it is in fact an issue that many immigrants and minorities face. We are now in a time where we talk about recognizing gender pronouns and slowly institutions are following suit, where people make memes about Starbucks baristas not being able to spell “Katie” correctly (okay but seriously, imagine my name with 3 consecutive vowels and a space in between. I can’t even begin to tell you how many emails I get that say “Da” even if I make sure to leave the Middle Name field blank on forms). And I guess on top of that, I just find that something I’ve been missing and something I wish someone said to me was that “Your name is valuable and it is literally your identity. It is LITERALLY how you present yourself.” It’s an experience that so many marginalized groups have, of training themselves to mispronounce their own names enough just for teachers and peers who are not bilingual to not look down at their names and think they’re weird. It’s an experience that many people in this country have where no matter how many different ways they try to say their name, people still mispronounce it no matter what and will never bother to ask again how to pronounce your name correctly, or worse, they make jokes about your name. It’s an experience where many people must second-guess themselves and their true pronunciation, because they’re afraid of coming off as too sensitive about their name or too pretentious. But why should they be?! It’s their name! It is their identity! It is the name that their loving parents and grandparents have given them at birth, and it is the name that in many ways holds centuries of heritage and history from the land that they left to have better lives in “the land of opportunity.” They should not feel shameful for having a non-Anglo Saxon name and for not “conforming” to Western standards of names. They should not have to second guess themselves and be flooded with the internal monologue of “how should I pronounce my name this time?” every time they have to make an introduction. If you have not felt these feelings or sentiments, that probably means you have a privilege that truthfully thousands of Americans do not have.

But wait, hold up. This isn’t meant to be a message of “make sure you’re saying all of your friends’ names right and ask them repeatedly!” I think at the very least, be respectful if someone corrects you on their name and remember that a name, being just a few scribbles on paper, is still a name and their identity.

I would tell my younger self “Don’t be ashamed of your name. In fact, this should push you to learn more about your heritage and the beautiful history and background that you come from. Be proud that you are Asian American, Korean American. Be proud that you’re Da Eun Kim.”

And if you do have a friend who has a “foreign”/”non-Anglo Saxon” name, maybe one day try asking them what their name means. You may learn something new about your friend.

*Don’t even get me started on the discrimination/stereotyping that happens with a “foreign” name. I have been assumed to be an international student (I am a US citizen), I have been assumed to not know English, and the list can go on…and I am even lucky to have only faced this. This conversation is for a later time, but for now this video does a good job of putting everything in context.

*I can only speak to my personal experience and I do not mean to speak on behalf of any group I do not identify with.

*If you have similar stories like this, please share with me! I would love to hear your narrative and how you’ve tried to overcome this obstacle.

The Power of Names

Detangling the experience “college”

2017 has been a bit of a whirlwind, and honestly I didn’t think it was going to happen so quickly. June 18 happened, graduation happened, and the events blur–getting my diploma, rushing into my parents’ car to move out of my dorm, all just to haphazardly/sort of mentally prepare myself for another software engineering internship the very next day. Needless to say, I have not had a chance to fully decompress and reflect on the past 4 years, the years my frosh self said would be “the very best years of my life.” Even now, I am on a time crunch where I get this weekend to relax, but I’m immediately getting on a plane on Monday to blaze through interviews for full-time. But life never stops, and I better jot down my thoughts before my memory fails me.

Don’t get me wrong, Stanford was amazing and I would not have traded it for anything else. The people and the wisdom I encountered in these four years were so invaluable and everyone has had an incredible impact on my life and on the person I have grown to be. But it definitely wasn’t without its dips and turns, and there are some lessons I’ve taken away from this that I’d like to hold to heart moving forward. I don’t think I’d want to necessarily tell my frosh self this, because I have only learned these things through trial and error. But I can at least hope this is potentially helpful for other 18-year-olds who are about to enter an incredible chapter of their lives.


(Me as a wee little freshman moving in)

  1. There are so many great opportunities on campus, and you’re most of the time trying to choose between wonderful options. Don’t sweat it. College is in many ways a portal to new activities and opportunities that you have never even known about. And college is really a chance to try new things! Do you want to learn how to ballroom dance? Great, because no one here knows yet that you have two left feet. Want to work on a side engineering project? Cool, put yourself out there and make new friends who are interested in this! Want to be low key and focus on yourself for your first year? That’s totally fine too. It is so easy to see how amazing everyone is and all of the cool activities they are doing. But let’s be real: you’re not a superhuman. You can’t do every single thing on campus without sacrificing your health, and your health is arguably of most importance. And all these people who are doing great things have made sacrifices of their own. So take advantage of these opportunities, but make sure you’re able to balance it with personal goals.
  2. Surround yourself with a community, a community that uplifts you, challenges you, and motivates you to be the person you hope to be proud of in 4 years. No matter what people say about the importance of classroom learning and career development, it’s also important for you to be grounded in yourself, and the best way I’ve been able to feel comfortable and assured is through the wonderful community I have found much support from. Being in a community empowers you to perhaps do something for that community, and the people in it encourage you through your endeavors. But at the same time, be sure to recognize when communities are toxic to you. I don’t mean that communities are right and wrong universally; it just means that maybe this community does not make you feel the best and discourages you. If so, it’s important to always step back and think about why am I in this community? Is there worth in me being part of this community?
  3. …But surround yourself with a plethora of perspectives as well. College is one of the first places you get to be going to class and living in dorms with people who come from wildly different backgrounds from you. Echochambers are a real thing. It can be so easy to get swept up in the midst of events and to agree with everyone. But it never hurts to try to stop and question for a moment, to try to understand the other perspective a bit better. ASK QUESTIONS!
  4. Take your education seriously. I was definitely very much into this idea of college being a transformative experience where my social circle explodes and I learn to be a social butterfly and break out of all my awkwardness from high school. But an analogy my friend has given me has stuck by me all these years:

    Going to college while not going to any of your classes is like paying to stay in a 5-star hotel and choosing to sleep on the streets.

    Be sure to remember why you are getting an education. Another quote:

    If you are getting an amazing education such as that at Stanford, you better be chasing your passion, if not searching for it, because there are so many others who are dying to be in your position, and you have all the privilege of the prestigious education to help your family, your communities, and yourself.

  5. You never know until you try. What I mean by this is: you can seek advice from upperclassmen and friends all you want, but ultimately you may need to try it yourself to decide for yourself whether this opportunity is worth your time or not. My biggest regrets throughout college all start with the statement “I regret that I didn’t try to____.” Try to apply, try out a class, try auditioning. So be sure to satisfy your curiosities, take opportunities to widen your perspectives.
  6. It’s okay to say no. You’re not disappointing anyone, and you don’t owe anyone anything.
Detangling the experience “college”