Threads of Growth: Weaving Leadership and Community at I-House
Yesterday, we hosted an I-House send-off event. I found myself sitting on the Glade, watching the sun dip behind the hills, and I couldn’t help but think about everything that’s happened in just three months. A year ago, I moved from Beijing to Berkeley—two cities that could not be more different. This May, I stepped into my role as an RA at International House.
I-House lounges overlook the San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge, like windows into other worlds, each resident carrying their own history and dreams from distant places. And then there’s that scent—a blend of old wood, a hint of the sea, and something else, holding the stories of those who’ve lived here before us, the scent of memories being made. In the shadow of these Hogwarts-like spires, I’ve discovered a sense of belonging that has quietly, profoundly, changed me.
The past three months have been transformative. I can say with confidence that living at I-House has shifted the trajectory of my college career—socially, professionally, and even in how I see myself. I’ve unearthed parts of me that I didn’t know existed, and for the first time, I’ve found a community that feels like home.
Roots of Leadership
Being an RA isn’t easy. It started with a five-day, nine-to-five training that felt overwhelming at first. But things shifted when our supervisor brought us together with ice-breakers and grounding activities, like sitting on the lawn on a Friday afternoon, discussing deep philosophical questions with coworkers we’d just met. That simple act of seeing us as individuals first built a sense of trust and camaraderie that transcended the typical work environment.
Being an RA is a constant balancing act—juggling the immediate demands of emergencies like fire alarms, injuries, and conflicts, while still finding the space to genuinely care for each resident. It’s about striking that fine line between compassion and firmness, recognizing the intricate layers of people and situations. When seasoned RAs likened the job to parenting, I laughed it off, not fully understanding. But now, it’s clear—what truly matters isn’t just the care you provide, but the depth of intention behind every action.
In the quiet moments and the chaotic ones, I’ve learned that leadership is found in empathy and the genuine desire to see others flourish. Being an RA taught me that when you care deeply, the impact goes beyond the job—it changes you and those around you.
The Ties That Bind
Life at I-House is a series of quiet moments that turn strangers into friends and friends into family. One night, I was sitting in the lounge, grinding for a midterm with some friends. As we worked, a few exchange students from Meiji University passed by—people I’d only met that summer. Yet, when we greeted each other, it was with the warmth of old acquaintances. A friend of mine, noticing this, smiled and said, ‘Wow so I-House really is like a family, isn’t it?’ I-House is a place that gently pulls you in, making you a part of something bigger without you even noticing. As an RA, I’ve seen how much care goes into making a house feel like home. From addressing homesickness and cultural barriers to organizing events that bring us together. Over time, I’ve come to appreciate how individuality is not just recognized here, but truly valued.
In the shared spaces of I-House, the stories the other RAs have told me carry a wisdom that runs deep, each of them with a history as unique as the stories they share. One night, I found myself in the Great Hall, deep in conversation with an RA who’s a second-generation immigrant studying Rhetoric. As the hours slipped away, she introduced me to a world of ideas—guiding me from Roland Barthes’ “Death of the Author” to the nuances of McKittrick’s footnotes, from the layers of meaning in Barthes’ “Rhetoric of the Image” to the complexities of Hobbes’ Leviathan and Susan Sontag’s thoughts on uncertainty and anxiety. That night, a new path opened up before me, and I ultimately chose to major in Rhetoric, drawn by a course titled “Oppositional Subjects: Abjection, Rejection, Stigma, and Shame,” which has become the most transformative class I’ve ever taken.
In this role, I’ve shared meals with PhDs in Medical Anthropology, Robotics, and English, where conversations revealed insights that stretched the boundaries of their disciplines, reshaping how I perceive academia and the pursuit of knowledge. Casual events with the RA in Berkeley Law often evolved into deep lessons on building meaningful connections through mentorship, their passion drawing you in, making you want to learn more, to be more. These experiences constantly got me thinking about how it’s not just about the knowledge we acquire, but about the humility to embrace the unknown and how that journey shapes who we become.
Moving to college means stepping into a world where blood ties don’t define family. Instead, it’s these shared moments, these deep conversations, that forge bonds just as strong. At I-House, I’ve found a family in these brilliant, compassionate individuals—a family I’m proud to grow with, one that has changed the trajectory of my life in ways I never expected.