Nearing the end of my sophomore year, I sat in Professor Heather Lefkowitz’s office in the Human and Organizational Development department — and cried. I had tried everything in my power to be happy at Vanderbilt. I excelled in rigorous engineering courses and joined the “prestigious” pre-professional fraternity Theta Tau. I switched to HOD, thinking a lighter course load might be the cure — but met a different kind of pressure: to join the business fraternities and pursue consulting recruitment, specifically for McKinsey, Bain or Boston Consulting Group. I found friends, I aced classes, I joined organizations — but it just wasn’t working.

How could I be happy when I always felt like I should be doing more? When everywhere I looked, everyone else seemed to fit in and have it all figured out? Yet no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t seem to get there.

I had a choice to make: I could take the easy way out and transfer, or I could stay. I decided to stay, but on one condition — I would stay on my own terms. I would take classes for myself. I would choose a major for myself. I would pursue projects, seek spaces and claim clarity for myself. From here on out, my time and my choices were of my own volition.

Out of my grief, resentment, hope and indignation, something truly beautiful began to emerge. I decided to embark on a project — a mission, really — to understand why I felt the way I did: to look Vanderbilt’s culture in the face and frame it into something meaningful, something mine.

I never expected to make a movie, but looking back, it makes sense. I was always the kid who daydreamed, who got lost in stories — in plays, in movies or in the book I wasn’t supposed to be reading during math class. For me, storytelling is more than entertainment. It’s a way to make sense of the world — to reimagine it. 

Though I’ve only taken one film class here at Vanderbilt, I undertook an independent study in cinema and media arts, gaining access to the tools I needed to create a feature-length, one-hour documentary. Synthesizing over 20 student and professor interviews, “Golden Shackles” uses Vanderbilt University as a case study to critique larger systemic and cultural barriers within elite universities across our nation, including imposter syndrome, weed-out classes, premature investment banking/consulting recruitment cycles, domineering pre-professional organizations and the low-income student experience — together, what I deem the pressure cooker environment.

Vanderbilt and I have a complicated relationship. On one hand, I have felt scorned. I hated much of my first two-and-a-half years at Vanderbilt. I disagreed with Vanderbilt’s vision about who I should be, what I should value and how I should conduct my life. But on the other hand, I have forgiven Vanderbilt. It’s not Vanderbilt’s fault that it made me feel the way I did — Vanderbilt didn’t know any better. I have decided to share with Vanderbilt all what I have learned: a documentary that is both my piece and my peace.

Through producing “Golden Shackles,” I have given myself voice and choice against a cultural system in which I have often felt voiceless and choiceless. I have used the university’s resources to critique the university itself. When I felt my agency taken away, I decided to take it back. My hope is that both the content within and creation of this documentary show students that you can pursue your truth — even if it feels like you can’t, even if nobody around you is doing it, even if nobody sees or understands your vision.

Most of all, I hope to spark honest conversations on this campus — conversations that question our assumptions: that our worth depends on becoming an MBB analyst, AKPsi pledge, 4.0 pre-med or Microsoft intern. I hope to remind us that life is more than a competition. It’s about who you are, who you choose to become and who you grow with along the way.

In just over a week, I will graduate. I look back on these four years with gratitude for everything I’ve learned, for the wonderful and not-so-wonderful experiences I’ve had, for the people I’ve met and for the choices I’ve made. But I am most grateful to you, Vanderbilt, for showing me the strength I never knew I had and for pushing me to break my “Golden Shackles.”