I love Stanford but I feel like an outcast because of my military upbringing

“Please don’t let them make you hate me.”

My father uttered those very words to me just a few weeks before I left for a new adventure: Stanford University.

Receiving that acceptance letter nearly three years prior is still something I cannot accurately express. I remember my mother dancing around the room while my father and I merely sat in a state of complete shock at my unexpected acceptance into one of the greatest universities in the country.

Of course, with my somewhat muted joy and pleasant surprise came great worry. How would I compare to my Class of 2018 peers? What would be my major? What kind of person is my first college roommate?

However, this was perhaps the most pressing concern I had at that time: how would civilian life compare to that of the military?

As you may have read in my first article, I come from a military background. My father has been a US Marine for the past 27 years, and prior to Stanford, I had neither lived outside of a military base nor attended an off-base school.

Living on a military base is quite structured in comparison to living outside of the base.

For example, both US and various military flags can be observed while visiting a military base. Every day, morning and night, these flags are raised and lowered to either the national anthem or a patriotic song known as “To the Color.” During this time known as Colors, military personnel have to face the direction of the base flag and salute until the song’s end. Visitors and civilians alike are expected to place their hands over their hearts. Cars are also required to come to a halt.

(In Okinawa, some military bases hold annual festivals. Military life isn’t all strict!)

Because of my military upbringing, I didn’t know what to expect when I finally embarked on my journey to college, in hopes of positively impacting those around me.

All I had been told about this mysterious phenomenon was that your undergraduate years were supposedly the time for you to “discover your true self,” that everyone was very accepting of one another, and that you shouldn’t torture yourself and take morning classes.

So it was inevitable, then, that this transition from a rather conservative upbringing to a more liberal environment was, and continues to be, quite exhausting.

Some things came as surprises.

I was certainly surprised my first few months at Stanford, which had been at a time of social unrest due to the shooting of Michael Brown. In Fall 2014, I witnessed my first student demonstration, which involved students walking out of classes and into the streets as activists of the larger “Hands Up, Walk Out” movement happening around countless US universities.

I wasn’t appalled or offended at the collaboration of numerous students working to educate others on issues they cared about. Rather, I was surprised at the amount of power these students had, and how nobody demanded them to disband. I believe I remember seeing students wearing “Black Lives Matter” T-shirts as they marched on Palo Alto.

You would never see this sort of event on a military base. If ever an event were to occur, “order would be restored,” probably. I’ve never actually seen anything remotely related to this demonstration, so I’m uncertain. However, witnessing the potential of a group’s voice was empowering and, to be honest, a little terrifying, as I had never seen anything like it before.

While some things came as surprises, others came in discomfort.

To go from familiarity to a place that, perhaps unintentionally, tells you that your upbringing is wrong in various ways would bring such discomfort.

I feel that my ideology is constantly being challenged, and that my ideology is the minority at Stanford.

I’ve heard many things:

“Please tell me you’re not a Catholic.”

“Has your dad ever shot anybody?”

“How do you feel about war?”

I also didn’t have the chance to reflect on Veterans Day, as Stanford is a private university and isn’t obligated to give time off for public holidays.

Stanford is a great school, although sometimes I do still feel outside of the Stanford Bubble, looking in at all of my liberal classmates and not wanting to profess my identity or background aloud, fearing their rejection. It seems that, whenever I do, I’m not looked at as a person: rather, as a conservative product of the military.

Less than one percent of Americans serve in the US military. I’m proud of every single service member, and I’m proud of my upbringing.

I’m especially proud of you, Dad. I could never hate you.