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NAVANEETHAKRISHNAN: Find me before you judge me

College autonomy can’t be criticized; the missing deserve to be brought home.
A split graphic of two college students looking at where they were last seen. The left depicts a Sudiksha Konanki against a night sea background, and the right depicts Riley Strain against a Nashville city backdrop. (Hustler Multimedia/Lexie Perez)
A split graphic of two college students looking at where they were last seen. The left depicts a Sudiksha Konanki against a night sea background, and the right depicts Riley Strain against a Nashville city backdrop. (Hustler Multimedia/Lexie Perez)
Lexie Perez

The night before I returned to school after spring break, my mother held me close and told me: “Safety is the most important thing. Always be safe and trust no one.” 

And these are the exact words that resonate in every decision I make in college. But are these words enough to stop me from becoming a statistic? Thousands of people go missing every year. Having a loved one go missing has to be one of the most devastating things a person can experience. No one should ever have to go through wondering where their loved one is or if they’re safe — or even alive.

While on spring break, when millions of college students traveled to different countries, one thought festered in the minds of young Indian American students while they tried to relax and enjoy their well-deserved vacations: One of us would not return home. 

But the soul deserves to rest in peace, which is exactly why Sudiksha Konanki’s parents asked officials to declare her dead 11 days after her disappearance.

Konanki’s case struck home for me; she was another 20-year-old South Asian girl pursuing medicine and studying in the United States. The similarities between her and millions of young South Asian students are shocking, which is why her disappearance was so harrowing. I followed her case closely — from the moment she went missing, through the days-long search parties, to the last seen footage of her at the hotel and her parents’ tearful breakdown as they asked for the death declaration. 

In that moment, I lost faith, not in her parents, but in the community that should’ve uplifted their daughter and aided in her search. Konanki’s case specifically highlights the crucial role of cultural context when it comes to missing persons cases. When American media published video footage of her last moments seen alive, many within the Indian community did not look for clues in the footage, question her friends or scrutinize the man she was last seen with. Instead, they fixated on the fact that a college girl had been drinking and socializing with boys. Her case was used as a cautionary tale — an example of what not to do. Her liberties as an adult were criminalized. I’d like to highlight a particular comment that encompasses the general opinions surrounding this case: 

I understand [her parents] want closure, but it seems like it’s mainly giving bad publicity to them and their daughter … I would never give up on my kid until I find her remains at least … This whole case was just a bunch of horrible decisions made by the missing girl.” 

This is victim blaming, and Konanki is far from the only one subjected to it. 

Perhaps a little closer to home, you may be familiar with the story of Riley Strain, a 22-year-old University of Missouri student who went missing during a trip with his fraternity and was found dead in the Cumberland River two weeks later. Like Konanki, Strain was on a trip with friends and was visibly intoxicated, according to several sources. Even in the language used in some of these sources, we see how Riley is painted out to be a drunken college student, incapable of making coherent decisions: 

He was leaning against walls to stay upright, stumbling up and down steps, was completely unable to speak or communicate, and needed help.” 

Reading that, I was already unsettled. But what truly made me sick to my stomach were the comments underneath. One user wrote:

“We can teach our kids to be responsible human being, they will do what ever they want when they are adults.” 

Reading this comment was disheartening. But this type of mindset is not only dangerous; it appears in far too many readers of the news.  

We focus so much more on why a student went missing — on what can’t be reversed — rather than searching for clues and ways to bring someone home. At the end of the day, regardless of the choices a missing person makes, they are still a victim. They do not deserve the horrors that happen to them. As the media continues to release details regarding a case, they need to be cognizant that, along with finding potential leads, they also create an environment where a victim’s character is questioned and stigmatized. 

Sudiksha and Riley are just two of the countless cases of missing college students. But their cases are more similar than you think; they show us how the media frames these disappearances and how college students are expected to be fully mature, always responsible and constantly making the “right”  decisions. 

But that’s not the reality. College brings us a slew of opportunities, and we have the freedom to travel and enjoy ourselves. That freedom is a beautiful thing. However, we also have to acknowledge that the world is a dangerous place. So many factors contribute to your safety — whether that be the places we’re visiting, the people we surround ourselves with or even the support systems (or lack thereof) that we have back home. 

Moreover, those around us must know how to honor us and speak of us respectfully. No one deserves to go missing; causation is important, yes, but it can’t be the only thing we focus on. We owe that respect not only to the victims but to the families that have to endure this struggle. 

If Sudiksha had fewer fingers pointed at her and at the way her parents raised her, then maybe her case would still be open. If Riley hadn’t been framed as a student who made bad decisions, then maybe he would still be alive.

I am one of these students. I could go missing. What will you say about me?



About the Contributors
Manushree Navaneethakrishnan
Manushree Navaneethakrishnan (‘27) is from Chattanooga, Tennessee, majoring in both medicine, health and society and gender and sexuality studies on the pre-med track in the College of Arts and Science. She previously served as Deputy Opinion Editor. Aside from The Hustler, Manushree is involved in a variety of other organizations, including Vanderbilt Student Volunteers for Science, Vanderbilt Spoken Word, Project Safe, VUcept, Vanderbilt Association for South Asian Cuisine and Vanderbilt Pride Serve. Her articles for The Hustler mainly surround campus diversity and global issues regarding gender-based violence. When she’s not locked up in coffee shops or running back and forth between club meetings, you can find her out and about trying new foods or pretending to know what’s going on at sports games. She can be reached at [email protected].
Lexie Perez
Lexie Perez, Graphics Editor
Lexie Perez (‘26) is from Northern Virginia and is majoring in climate studies and human and organizational development in Peabody College. Lexie enjoys rock climbing, exploring Nashville through coffee shops and binging Love Island with her friends. She can be reached at [email protected].
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