由于新冠大流行，耶鲁大学2020届毕业典礼不得不改为线上进行，校长演讲、优秀学生代表演讲、节目汇演等环节均通过线上直播方式进行。
而本届毕业典礼中，华裔学生Joy Qiu经过层层选拔，被推举为学生代表发言，也是首位华裔女性在耶鲁毕业典礼上发言。
Joy Qiu：
毕业于著名的伊州数理高中IMSA，进入耶鲁大学数学系并以优异成绩毕业，同时获得教育研究证书。她是Summa Cum Laude荣誉生，在校期间担任华裔学生会主席。
大三参加社团活动时，竟然发现有人不知道AACC（亚裔美国人文化中心），于是我开始思考，什么才是耶鲁大学的精髓？
Joy在演讲中进行了深刻的反思，并通过对自己华裔身份的重新认识，让我们看到美国华裔二代觉醒和进取的力量。
2020届毕业生们，大家好！
我们正以一种不曾预想到的方式在本周毕业。新冠肺炎疫情的爆发使我们来不及收拾行李，未能做最后的含泪告别，更无法在万众瞩目下登上礼台，接过毕业证书。但是在接下来的六天时间里，我们无疑将正式成为耶鲁大学历史中的一部分，身份也将由在校生转变为耶鲁本科学院2020届毕业生。在这前所未有的时刻，当我们完全失去了所珍视的传统毕业典礼，那毕业真正意味着什么呢？
对于2020届学生而言，疫情比所见的形式上更多样地颠倒了我们的生活。它瓦解了我们对于毕业季欢欣鼓舞又苦乐参半的期望，它消除了我们习以为常的连续性与稳定感。对我们许多人来说，疫情将不确定性、艰难和悲剧带入了我们的生活中。
我并不想淡化局势的严重性，新冠疫情的确偷走了我在耶鲁十六分之一的时光，多多少少让我们的大学岁月并不完美。但是，最后这几周并没有从根本上改变耶鲁大学对我们的意义，也未曾撼动过去四年耶鲁生活对我们的影响。
耶鲁到底意味着什么？这个问题，我们现在比以往任何时候都需要去反思和探索。成为耶鲁人意味着什么？是什么把我们联系在一起？除了不愿分离的情感因素之外，什么让我们所有人产生共鸣？
我的答案是什么？可能和你想象的不同。诚然，我们都是人类，如今受过高等教育并享有特权。但是除了过去四年我们生活在同一空间之外，我们很难找到一种统一或者类似的理念形容什么才是本质上的“耶鲁”。
让我告诉你有关AACC（亚裔美国人文化中心）的故事。在这里我遇到了最好的朋友；我花了无数的时间为华裔学生协会策划活动。在火锅之夜和农历舞会上，写书法、吃糯米饭，我找到了全新的方式彰显自己的华裔身份。毫无疑问，AACC一直是我在耶鲁的经历中最不可或缺的部分之一。
三年级临近结束的时候，我和你们中的许多人一样，决定加入一个高年级社团。按照惯例，我们所有人围成一圈，彼此分享隐私话题。我选择谈论AACC及其对我的意义。那天晚上，我第一次遇到一个不知何谓AACC的人，这令我顿时无语。我异常惊讶，这个活力四射的成熟社团，对我个人而言意义非凡，可对他和其他耶鲁人来说却闻所未闻。真的，对我来说，如果没有AACC，耶鲁将不是耶鲁。
从那时起，我开始怀疑耶鲁是不是一个统一融合的耶鲁。我对耶鲁的概念是基于我的个人体验，就像我的朋友不知道AACC一样，我也不了解耶鲁大学中那些为明年成为职业运动员而刻苦训练的人；那些住得离校园足够近，可以在周中开车回家吃顿晚餐的人；或者那些几乎每天都要到哈克尼斯塔里的佛教寺庙冥想的人。
甚至我们使用的词语也能让人产生不同的联想：说起“Foot”这个词，你想到是“英尺”还是“阿巴拉契步道”？当你听到“Zoo”时，脑海中闪现出“免费打印”吗？当我说起“AACC”时，你是否想到“家”的概念？这样的现实使我对耶鲁人拥有不同的人生轨迹充满感恩之情。也正是这一点让我发觉，我们真的能共享某些事或任何事情吗？这显得有些虚幻。
也许我很难让你相信，毕竟想象一下一起周而复始通过Zoom上网课的朋友和同学们，我们的生活交汇点和共享经验是如此鲜活和真实，对此我毫不怀疑。
与你同住的大约有10个人；你可以通过课外活动认识50或100个朋友；在课堂上、健身房里或食堂排队打饭时会遇到数百人……
但实际上，在2020届学生中，几乎有上千人我从未有幸与之交谈。无论耶鲁对我意味着什么，也无论我住过什么地方，你们在耶鲁都有一些我可能无法想象的经历。当然，成为耶鲁人有特别的意义：意味着你在今后15年中遇到耶鲁校友时，可以争论哪所是最好的住宿学院，并调侃用Zoom上大学；你可以回想起哈佛—耶鲁的撤资抗议或是你最喜欢的GHeav三明治；又或者是斯特林图书馆在冬季初雪时的美好景象。但除了参与过这些耶鲁传统，共享其中一些表层记忆外，我们在耶鲁的生活经历其实差异巨大。人们误认为有一些核心品质将耶鲁人团结在一起，事实上并没有。
我这样的说法似乎令人沮丧，但并非如此。相反，这个角度反而令人为之一振。因为假如不是我们各不相同，难道是耶鲁大学的四年生活将我们锤炼成难分彼此、千篇一律的人吗？ 作为一所大学，耶鲁向我们展示了“美好生活”中值得我们重视的品质，诸如：声望、卓越的学术、效率、专业上的成功、批判性思维和公民话语权等。
这些全都是优秀品质。但是，如果我们所有人在耶鲁的旅程中只是像海绵一样吸收这些技能、价值观和个性特征，那就变得非常可怕。当我们相聚别处时，我们已经失去了曾经的自己而都变成了拥有耶鲁经典主流价值观的同类人，以至于我此刻站在这里，可能发表着关于如何团结一致的主题演讲。
令人兴奋的是，我们的与众不同远胜于团结统一，因为这意味着我们在过去共享的空间中做出了各自有意识的选择。
更具体地讲，我想请你花些时间思考一下我们刚刚踏进校园时的情境，这是我们生命中最确定，也最不确定的时刻之一。我们对耶鲁满心欢喜，满怀憧憬，总有新鲜事物想要去尝试，总有雄心壮志又激情四射，总充满希望却又有时心生恐惧。我们带着各自建立好的信仰体系和身份认同来到耶鲁大学。
今天站在这里，我可以告诉你，当初有些愿望我并未实现。我做过令自己感到惊讶的事，也拥有令人难以置信的经历，我结交了朋友并留下宝贵的回忆，即便有人用全世界与我交换，我也不愿意。就我个人而言，我与四年前已经不是同一个人。也许这显而易见，但这是最值得反思的事情。大学生活保留了你的哪些特质，又改变了哪些？
因为耶鲁，我更多地接触到自己的传承，我不会因为他人的评判而对自己的喜好产生畏惧；我更清楚自己在哪些冒险中获得满足。今天站在这里，因为耶鲁大学和其赋予我的经历，使我的身份和价值观得到了放大、挑战、改变和丰富。我相信对我们所有人而言都是如此。
耶鲁大学给我们的不仅仅是获得一系列传统和特权的机会，以及“耶鲁人”一词的称号，更是使我们有机会找到一个更完整，更真实的自己。 无论你花多长时间才感觉到耶鲁像家，也无论你是花整晚在Bass图书馆读书，还是在Toads跳舞亦或是在Stiles F41中大笑至两颊生痛，这都是我们在这所学校里通过自己的选择而获得的经历，这些经历从根本上改变我们是谁，却又使我们保留初心。
那么我的结论是什么呢？我无权站在这里概括我们的集体经历，因为它们是如此不同，希望它们都是我们自己选择之后有意义的探索。当这些经历尝试去改变我们，希望我们都能奋斗成为更好的自己，拥有更强大的信念和各自珍视的价值观。当15年后，这场疫情已经离我们远去，你又回想起光明的大学岁月时，你将不仅为成为耶鲁人感到骄傲，而是为耶鲁塑造你成为那样的人感到自豪。
演讲原文
Hi, Class of 2020. We’re graduating this week. Not in a way that we ever expected, but we are graduating nonetheless.
There will be no frantic packing of bags; there will be no final, tearful goodbyes; no one is going to walk across any stage. But in 6 days’ time we will nonetheless officially become part of Yale’s history, trading in our identities as current students to emerge as graduates of the Yale College Class of 2020. In these unprecedented times, in the complete absence of traditions we hold dear, what does it really mean to graduate?
In more ways than just physically, COVID-19 has uprooted our Class. It disintegrated our expectations for a joyous and bittersweet Senior Spring. It dissolved a sense of constancy and stability that we never knew we were taking for granted. For many of us, this pandemic has introduced uncertainty, hardship, and tragedy into our lives.
Without diminishing the gravity of the situation, I find comfort in the fact that my time at Yale means more than the 1/16th that coronavirus stole. It’s hard not to let the ending color the journey. But these last few weeks cannot and should not fundamentally change what Yale means to us, and what it has meant to us for the better part of the past 4 years.
And what exactly does Yale mean? The onus is on us, now more than ever, to reflect and find what matters. What does it mean to be a Yalie? What brings our class together? Beyond the emotional bond forged from the pain of loss, what do we all share?
My answer? Not as much as you might think. Admittedly, we’re all human, and now more educated and privileged, but beyond occupying the same physical space for almost four years, the idea that we’re unified or similar in some fundamentally “Yale” way is a myth.
Let me tell you a story about the AACC, the Asian American Cultural Center. It’s the place I met my very best friends, where I spent countless hours planning events for the Chinese American Students Association. It’s the place I found new ways to celebrate my identity, at Hotpot Night and Lunar Ball, writing calligraphy and eating sticky rice. Without a doubt, the AACC has been one of the most integral parts of my Yale experience.
At the end of my junior year, I, like many of you, decided to join a senior society. As is customary, we all gathered in a circle at initiation to share intimate parts of our lives with each other. I chose to talk about the AACC and everything that it’s meant to me. And that night, for the very first time, I met someone who didn’t know what the AACC was.For a moment, I was speechless. Amazed that this vibrant and formative community, so personal to me, could be completely foreign to him--and to any Yalie, really, because to me, Yale isn’t Yale without the AACC.
That’s when I began to question the idea of a cohesive and unified Yale. My conception of Yale is just that--it’s mine. And just as my friend didn’t know what the AACC was, I had no idea what Yale looks like for someone training to become a professional athlete next year, for someone who lives close enough to drive home for a weekday dinner, or for someone who meditates almost every day in the Buddhist shrine inside Harkness Tower.
And even the words we use: Does “Foot” bring to mind inches, or the Appalachian Trail? When you hear “zoo,” do you think “free printing”? And when I say “AACC,” do you think “home”?It’s realizations like these that make me fully appreciate the different lives that people here lead. And it’s these realizations that convince me: believing we could all share something, anything, real? That has to be a myth.
Maybe it’s hard to believe me when I say that, because if you picture the friends and classmates you’ve been Zooming week in and week out and think about the intersections of your lives, your shared experiences will feel so salient and so real. I don’t doubt that.
There’s the 10 or so people you’ve lived with. The 50 or 100 friends you’ve met through extracurriculars. The hundreds more you’ve met in class, in the gym, waiting in line at the dining hall…
But the truth is, there are almost a thousand of you in the Class of 2020 that I’ve never had the pleasure of exchanging a single word with. And whatever Yale means to me, whatever spaces I’ve inhabited, there are parts of your Yale experiences that I can’t possibly begin to conceive of. Sure, it means something to be a Yalie. It means that in 15 years when you encounter someone who also went to Yale, you can squabble over the best residential college and laugh about Zoom University; you can reminisce about the divestment protests at Harvard-Yale or your favorite GHeav sandwich or how pretty Sterling looks at winter’s first snowfall. But the truth is, aside from participating in these same Yale traditions and sharing in some of these surface-level memories, our lived experiences at Yale are so wildly different that it would be a bit misguided to believe there is some core quality about being a Yalie that unites us all. The truth is, there isn’t.
This may seem depressing. But it’s not. This perspective is actually kind of uplifting. Because the alternative to believing that we share nothing in common would be to believe that Yale is so seductive that 4 years here is enough to hammer part of our identities into shapes completely indistinguishable from each other.As an institution, Yale sells us a version of the “Good Life”—things that we should value. Things like: Prestige. Academic excellence. Productivity. Professional success. Critical thinking and civil discourse.
These can all be good things; they can. But it would be so, so horrible if we all journeyed through Yale like sponges, absorbing these skills and values and personality traits so that when we emerge on the other end, we’ve lost the fibers of who we once were and are similar enough--so saturated with things that are classically mainstream Yale--that I could stand up here and give a speech about what unites us all.
It’s uplifting to believe that there’s infinitely more that distinguishes than unites us, because it means that we made conscious choices in occupying the spaces that we did.
To put this more concretely, I want you to take a moment and think about who we were as prefrosh: Probably excited, and also hopeful, at one of the most certain and also uncertain points of our lives. As prefrosh, we had a certain set of expectations for what Yale would be like. We had new things we wanted to try, we had ambitions and passions, we had hopes and fears. We came to Yale with an established belief system and identity.
Standing here today, I can tell you that I failed to meet some of my expectations. I did things that surprised myself. I had incredible experiences, and made friends and memories I wouldn’t trade for the world. But the thing that feels most personal to tell is that I’m not the same person that I was four years ago. Maybe that’s obvious—because it is obvious—but it’s also the most important thing to reflect on. What’s stayed since you were a prefrosh, and what hasn’t?
Because of Yale, I am more in touch with my heritage. I am less afraid of being judged for what I like and don’t like. I know better what adventures I’d find fulfilling. Standing here today, my identity and values have been amplified, and challenged, and altered, and enriched because of Yale and the experiences I had. I believe that the same is true for all of us.
Yale gave us more than just access to a set of traditions and privilege, a claim to the term “Yalie.” Yale gave us the opportunity to find a fuller, more authentic version of ourselves. No matter how long it took for Yale to feel like home, whether you spent your nights p-setting in Bass, dancing in Toads, or laughing until your sides hurt in Stiles F41, the chosen and eclectic experiences we’ve had at this institution have fundamentally changed who we are, without compromising who we are.
So what’s the point? I have no right to stand here and generalize about all of our collective experiences, because they were all different. Hopefully they were experiences we pursued with intention, that we had the agency to choose. And as those experiences tried to change us, hopefully we fought to become better versions of ourselves, with greater conviction in who we are and what we value. So in fifteen years, when this pandemic is far behind us and you’re thinking back to your bright college years, don’t just be proud to be a Yalie. Be proud of the person that Yale shaped you to become.
