Solana Adedokun

Dear Solana,

Once upon a time, in a land very far away, there lived a poor farmer whose only horse ran off. When his neighbors heard the news, they expressed great sorrow for the farmer’s loss. However, the farmer dismissed their concerns and replied, “We’ll see.” Later, the horse came back with several other wild horses in tow. All the neighbors remarked how fortunate he was to now have this many horses. Yet, the farmer brushed off the news and said, “We’ll see.” The next day, the farmer’s son tried to tame one of the horses but broke his leg in the process. Again, the neighbors lamented the farmer’s misfortune, but the farmer said, “We’ll see.” The following day, officers came to the village to collect young men for an upcoming military campaign, and the son was overlooked because of his injury. Elated at the news, the neighbors congratulated the farmer for this wonderful news. The farmer still said, “We’ll see.”

You, past-Solana, haven’t heard that story yet, but that story will find its way to you in different forms from various people over the next four years. Right now, you’re probably thinking something along the lines of “It’s just monkeys singing songs, mate,” (This reference will make sense to you in a little while) and “Why does this story apply to me and my life?” Well, you’ll just have to see.

Nonetheless, I know you’ll believe that what I wrote wasn’t a satisfactory response. Right now, you feel like you’re swirling in a sticky pot of emotions that you can’t seem to climb out of. Since school was moved online, you managed to avoid failing more AP Calculus tests, but you’re filled with anxiety about going to UChicago. You’re wondering if there was a mistake—they really let you off the waitlist? The girl who had to take the ACT three times only to get the same mediocre score and wrote her Common App essay about being the Rat Queen in the Nutcracker? Will you fit in with all the talented and clever peers around you that seem to have accomplished so much? Will you even be successful among this group of high-achieving students? It felt like the stress of the college application process, which had caused our hair to fall out before, was heading for greener pastures once more.

The farmer’s story was not meant to confuse you, but rather highlight something I’ve learned since I left Texas. Unlike what we were taught, not every move we take or decision we make is black and white and leads to objectively good or bad consequences. Life is a spectrum made up of our decisions and the truths we live by change over time. It doesn’t mean we were wrong, misinformed, or dumb. But we should take pressure off ourselves to always make what we were taught is the right decision. Even now, I’m still learning, but in that time, I’ve gotten to see part of the vivacious color spectrum life has to offer and I can’t wait for you to experience the highs and lows.

Don’t worry. Take a breath; the contents of this letter aren’t alarming but know that UChicago changes us into a Solana you wouldn’t believe.

You’ve heard that UChicago is where “fun comes to die,” and, at least for you, it’s not true. We both know there’s nowhere more hellish to be than a racist, white flight private school in the Deep South as a Black girl for thirteen years.

Our Sailor Moon-esque transformation starts in some expected and equally unexpected places: long-lasting friendships you’ll cultivate in spite of the borderline authoritarian upperclassmen in the dreaded I-House (which isn’t as shitty as everyone says); late night ; sneaking into North to hang with new friends; getting drinks with people you meet from the Maroon (which you will one day lead as its first African Editor-in-Chief—the only spoiler I’m giving you); finally learning German and majoring in visual arts; making even more friends and mentors; and even winning a scholarship to study abroad in Berlin and becoming a model for Vogue Germany (last spoiler for sure).

Although these good moments are everything you’d think they be and more, including much more I didn’t mention, there are also some equally unsavory moments: being rejected by dream jobs, internships, and opportunities; fighting extended emotional battles with close ones from home; being told after months of building up your art portfolio that your work is “juvenile;” being yelled at during a work shift by another student who questioned you attending this university; having a high-profile professor and a former preceptor in the Social Science department question your English language skills, despite being a native speaker and an editor-in-chief; losing someone special extremely close to you in a time of extreme distress; being harassed and accused of supporting war crimes by a community leader; and, most painfully, being asked to reconsider your dreams of living abroad for a few years and go back to the hometown where you were indescribably hurt, solely because you can’t seem to get an offer from employers.

I won’t sugarcoat it. Some of these moments push us to limits that rival the darkest times in high school, perhaps even becoming some of the darkest moments in our lives. But, in that unfathomable struggle that, some days, keeps you confined to the four walls of your apartment bedroom with only hot, streaming tears as companions in this abject sorrow, know that great positive change comes from these difficulties too. You turn your sadness and failure into strength, transforming the communities and people around you.

For instance, after noticing many students claim to fight against racism and prejudice, there is little substantive movement in that direction within the newspaper. In response, you create the Maroon’s very first Black History Month Special Issue, forging a dedicated, inclusive space for Black students to express themselves. There, your extended community had complete, guaranteed creative expression as they took the helm and were prioritized as editors, videographers, illustrators, poets, and so much more. From there, you inspired others in the Maroon to develop other special issues and inserts, forging a new legacy for the paper as a more inclusive organization where even more diverse stories are told going forward. And, as a fun bonus, you got to chat about your work to some very powerful people on and off campus.

Still, don’t get it twisted. I’m still scared of the future, though less so than I was about coming to UChicago. I have several viable options, and I still worry about some of the same things I thought of in the past: what my family might think of me, what others will think of me, and whether I’ll ruin the legacy I left behind for my communities by doing something foolish. However, though my identity as a UChicago student has caused me some strife, leaving some aspects of campus left to be desired, I’ve emerged a stronger person who is more secure in what I want for myself.

As the farmer’s fortune turned around day by day in the parable, so does your own personal growth. Great change doesn’t happen overnight, but over time you’ll understand what you stand and fight for, even if that means leaving behind your sometimes infuriating and sometimes sweet siblings. Your best quality is being resilient and persistent in your dreams. Never forget that strength as you step into the gates of UChicago with your head held high.

This letter was as much for me as for you, as you can probably tell, but I wish you the best as a future UChicago student.  Now, give Kobe as many belly rubs as possible and “we’ll see” if you start packing on time.

Yours truly, forever, and always,

Solana

P.S. Take the Sonic the Hedgehog class fourth-year. It’s gonna change your life for real. Trust.

Solana Adedokun is a fourth-year in the College. She served as the 2023–24 co-editor-in-chief of the Chicago Maroon.