Finding Home, One Step at a Time

With 15 days left until graduation, I find myself in a space of quiet reflection—not quite ready to say goodbye and not quite believing how far I’ve come. It’s a strange feeling to watch something you’ve poured so much of yourself into come to a close. And yet, it’s a feeling full of gratitude. While a lot can happen in four years, I choose to focus on the positives of my experience here—the growth, the joy, and everything this journey has made possible. 

I’ve been dreaming of this moment since middle school—not just the milestone of graduating, but graduating from GU-Q. It was always the goal. I believed in it so deeply that I only applied here—no backup options, no second choices. But it wasn’t always easy to explain why. People around me often didn’t understand what it meant to study politics and diplomacy. I’d get questions like, “But what will you become?” or “How will you grow in a field like that?” Still, even when the path felt uncertain to others, I was sure of it for myself. I held onto that belief until it became real.

My first glimpse of what GU-Q could be came at an MUN conference, seeing the vibrant community of students, experiencing the cultural night and hearing our chairs mention that the topics we were debating were the same ones they explored in class. That moment stayed with me. I knew then: I had to be there.

Some of you might know me; some might not—my name is Nagla Abdelhady, and I’m a senior from Egypt. Before GU-Q, I went to a very small school with only about 20 students in my graduating class. Opportunities were limited, and chances to connect with people outside of that circle were rare. So when I arrived at GU-Q, I was ready to immerse myself in something bigger: a community where I could grow, connect, and push myself beyond the walls I was used to. And that’s exactly what I found.

From my presidency to student employment, orientation, my baby MUN—and, of course, the side hustle of actually being a student—I tried to say yes to as much as I could. Not because I was chasing a title or building a résumé, but because I was building myself. I wanted to grow, show up for others and be part of moments that felt real. Through all those roles, I found purpose, perspective and a self I’m genuinely proud of.

I remember one of the earliest moments that shaped my time here. As a freshman, I attended commencement as a flag bearer. Watching the graduating class, the same people I once knew simply as “the ones running MUN”—walking the stage with pride made me realize something important: by the end of my time at GU-Q, I wanted to be someone I could admire too. That graduating batch gave us so much as incoming first-years, and it slowly dawned on me that, before long, it would be our turn to do the same. In the years that followed, as I watched close friends graduate and leave campus, that realization only grew stronger.

And I never did it alone. Every time I stepped into something new, I was met with trust—not just in my ability to lead, but in my ability to stumble and learn. The Student Life suite practically adopted me. I lost count of how many breakdowns I had in that space—overwhelmed, overbooked, overstretched. But they were there. They didn’t just offer support; they became it. They were mentors, lifelines and constants in the chaos. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

That’s what I’ll carry with me—not the titles, but the people. The students I once oriented are now stepping into their own power and leading this university in ways that make me proud. The first-time MUN chairs I worked with are now some of our most seasoned and reliable chairs. The student life assistants brought warmth to every space we shared.

In every shift and change—even the hard ones—I had someone to lean on. There were times when the weight of all of it—the deadlines, the tension, the unspoken heaviness—felt like too much. But even then, I was never truly alone. There was always someone: a friend, a mentor, a quiet presence who reminded me I didn’t have to carry it all by myself.

During one of our recent MUN conferences, for example, I was incredibly nervous to give my speech. My hands were literally shaking at the podium. But before I even spoke, I heard clapping from alumni and student chairs. They were cheering me on—not for what I said, but because I was up there. That moment gave me the courage to deliver the best speech I could.

Now, as I prepare to leave this chapter behind, I’m not just reflecting on what I’ve done, but on who I’ve become. I’m leaving with more clarity, more compassion, and more courage than I came in with. All of it shaped by challenge, by joy, by community, and by a campus that made space for it all.

As this academic year draws to a close, I don’t know exactly what’s next. But I do know this: GU-Q taught me how to build a home, lead with heart, and hold onto hope—even when things feel fractured. These lessons, rooted in community, will stay with me wherever I go. And as we all move forward, ready for what’s next, I hope we carry that same sense of care.

And as I sign off for one of the last times—Hoya Saxa, always.