Leks and the City, except the city is Oberlin, Ohio, Issue 15: Well, Fuck! It’s Senior Year!
by Lekan Aleshe-Shittu, Staff Writer
A few weeks ago, as I walked by the big, beautiful house right in front of Wilder, I cried. I’d been on campus much earlier than most for RA training (absolutely fucking hellish, do not reccommend), and as a means of self-regulating, I’d often take long, evening walks around both campus and town. One of those evenings, as I shuffled past said house, I sat on its staircase and cried. One of my dearest friends lived there last year, and I’d accrued some of the best memories of my Oberlin experience in his sparsely furnished living room. He’s graduated now. I was taken back to my sophomore year, when some of my best friends in the world graduated as well. On that dusty, rickety staircase, I was left with the question of what Oberlin becomes when some of the people we’ve grown to love no longer call our quaint little campus home.
Before we dive into this, I’ll introduce myself and what this column is. I told myself I wouldn’t subject readers to another introduction because I’ve run this column for like one billion fucking years already, but becuase it is the start of a brand new year (my last one!), I think I probably should. Here goes; My name is Lekan, a senior (WOAHHHHHHH) studying Africana Studies, Politics and Religion, and I run this lovely little column in the pages of The Grape. I started it my freshman year for two reasons: one was because I felt rather sad, uncomfortable, maddened even, by my experience as a Black, African international student at Oberlin College, and two, was because I wanted people to engage with a reality or identity that is often disenfranchised and minoritized in conversations about campus culture. The Grape has been its home throughout the entirety of my time at Oberlin, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to talk all sorts of shit here. Whatever I share here is solely life through my lens because I obviously do not speak for every single Black, African and international individual on this campus. What else? Uhhhh, I usually write these unfiltered, so I never read them back—I never edit or censor my thoughts, so what you’re reading right now is my pure stream of consciousness. I try super hard to be fully conversational in these essays, so I’m literally sitting in my favorite carrel on the fourth floor of Mudd right now spilling my guts out to an empty google doc. This is my fifteenth essay. Okay. Back to it.
I’ve recently been preoccupied with what Oberlin becomes when some of the many people who make it feel great are gone (there are numerous people who I am deeply in love with who are still here, thank God), but I think I’ve been obsessing over this question because I myself am about to leave. I have a very bad habit of befriending people who are much older than me, and in my freshman year, my best friends were two years above me. They graduated at the end of my sophomore year. In my junior year, many of my dear friends were seniors as well. They’re gone too. Walking around this empty campus during the first weeks of RA training (again, absolutely dogshit, DO NOT RECOMMEND), I spent much of my time reflecting on those relationships. Each part of campus and town reminded me of these people. Almost as if their shadows still inhabited these spaces. I would walk by Aladdins and replay my first date with this senior guy who I was wholly fucking infactuated with (Jesus Christ, that was fucking something). I would walk by the Feve and remember smoking cigarettes on the cold metal pipe outside with Cuillin and Stef late into the night. I would walk past the Cat and the Cream and remember a late night game of Mafia with some of the most interesting, charming people I’d ever met. The house by the Cat reminded me of small parties where the air was thick with the smell of marijuana, raucous games of truth or dare and hilarious rounds of Shitler. Uptown Pizza reminded me of burning eyes, and loud, boisterous laughter, and like 10 people huddled over a large slice of pizza. Mudd reminded me of Juwayria and Jane, Dascomb of the many moments Chemutai, Nyakwea and I spent sprawled out on the floor, overtaken by gaudy giggles during my freshman and sophomore years. Then there’s Lupitas and Rosalie, the Arb and Divine—this kind, thoughtful senior who befriended me during my really, really, really depressing freshman year. In truth, I’m super emotional thinking about this, haha. I’ve been really vulnerable here before (I think it is important to be), but this feels different.
There are many other things I wanted to write about in this issue (we’ll get to them as the semester progresses), but I wanted to dedicate this essay to the seniors (all of them, from my freshman to junior years) who imbibed bright and beautiful light into this place. I am so incredibly grateful for you. I cannot imagine an Oberlin experience devoid of your friendship, your thoughtfulness, your all-encompassing grace and advice. I was talking to one of my dear friends (hi Morgan) about how weird it feels now that I’m a senior, because I have no one to look up to, no one that I think is painfully cool by virtue of their age and familiarity with this place, no one with prior experience to hold my hand through the often interesting, joyous, beautiful, sad, lonely, lovely experience that is Oberlin College. This is new for me. It is exciting and it is frightening all at once. Being in my last year here is so hard to wrap my head around. I sometimes still feel like the awkward, bumbly little boy who packed his shit into two suitcases, hopped on a plane to Cleveland, and moved continents all those years ago. That being said, I’m eager to witness what the year holds for me, and I’m eager to share it with anyone who cares to listen. I’m thrilled at the prospect of pouring more into the beautiful relationships I’ve been privileged to build. I’m ecstatic to be here, in this space, in this very moment. And I do not take any of it for granted. Thank you so much for reading.
All the best, and all my love, Leks.
