Mathew Leonard

Who am I?1

A stereotypical question, by all means, but one that I feel has a particular centrality to my time here at Vassar. I could easily write about my experiences with the Vassar Student Association2, or compose a love-letter-of-sorts to the countless wonderful people I met here and will miss dearly. I have so many memories, many of which I have felt would make a great film or book3. However, one of the most rewarding events of my Vassar experience was the struggle to define myself followed by the self-satisfaction of finally giving up and just running with it.

As a scrawny 18-year old kid from Kentucky, I had no clue what to expect from Vassar. "Do you think I'll need a suit?" I remember asking my parents, completely convinced that academic life in the Hudson Valley would require that I regularly dress like a penguin; donning a full tuxedo for the multiple formal dinners and cocktail parties spent discussing the subtle use of metaphor in Ibsen's plays4. In my mind the North was a land of bagels, high-speed, and equally cold weather and people, while the South was the land of sweet-tea, slow summer days and hospitality. I was completely unprepared for the reality of Vassar.

I quickly learned two things: First, until I came to Vassar, I never thought that the last name Leonard would be so difficult to spell5. Second, I learned that Vassar students, while very intelligent in all other respects, are completely useless at United States geography. Most people seemed to get Kentucky confused with Kansas—shudder.6 I was asked, "Kentucky—isn't that near Texas?" a few more times than I probably should have been. I remember talking to one of my friends in New York City: "David, I've got a feeling we're not in Kentucky anymore."

Yet, beyond an increase in misspelling my name and trashing Kansas, I have to admit, the ultimate effect of leaving my home of Southern Comfort7 for the great frigid north was a bit underwhelming. Once the initial shock wore off, I discovered that Vassar students were much like the people I liked back home: funny, intelligent, shoe-less8, artistic and chill. I made the conscious decision to become one of them, to forget my backwards Kentucky ways and become a chic New Yorker. I spent my first years absorbing everything that I could—it was all so new and exciting. In short, I became a Vassar student: I spoke comfortably about heteronormativity, danced to electronic beats in the Mug, drank at the Dutch and deconstructed history9.

Yet, when I returned home to Kentucky, I realized that something was missing. My friends from home, overwhelmed by my overflowing Vassar pride, began to refer to me as "Vassar-boy." I had, in a way, lost touch with myself. As many people have done when surrounded by a culture both similar and different, I began to wonder, well, what exactly makes Kentucky so different from Vassar? Filled with a sense of nostalgia for my past, I sought to embody that difference. I purchased a pair of boots, a banjo, bluegrass albums, and bourbon10. I told everyone who would listen about my Kentucky upbringing: while living in the North, I had become a "Kentuckian."

This past summer, as I purchased a suit in preparation for the formal dinners and cocktail parties of my senior year, I reflected on who I had become in my time here. I realized that both my personas, "Vassar-Boy" and "Kentuckian" were just ways to understand myself in relation to my surroundings. I am a Vassar-Boy. I am a Kentuckian. Next year, I will add a new identity to my list. My time at Vassar has, among other things11, taught me to both appreciate the place I come from, but to also acknowledge and accept how I have changed through my life.

This is perhaps the lesson I will hold closest to me as I head out into the world. Embrace change, absorb it, love it and revel in it, but never lose track of your roots; bring your own style into an age-old traditions, but create new traditions to pass onto the future. Shakespeare wrote, "To thine own self, be true," but I would argue that you shouldn't get too hung up on the specifics. Perhaps most importantly, as Lincoln once said, "Whatever you are, be a good one."

1. Mathew Leonard, Class of 2011, History Major, French Minor, from Lexington Kentucky, (Out-going) VSA President,

2. They were silly.

3. An exposé tell-all tabloid I imagined something like this: Me: "It's really fascinating how he uses a doll's house within A Doll's House as a metaphor to reinforce Nora's plight." Other Student: "Oh yes, of course. Be a dear and hand me the caviar would you?"

4. My Kentucky roots would cause people to assume my name was spelled "Lynard," like the Southern rock musician.

5. No offense to anyone from Kansas, but you know how it goes--it's not Kentucky. We've got bourbon, horses, beer-cheese, ale-8, biscuits, I could go on…*

6. *Johnny Depp, ‘nuff, said.

7. Horrible beverage, don't actually believe them, it's not comforting in the slightest.

8. This one is an exaggeration; we actually wear shoes in Kentucky—not so much at Vassar.

9. Which in and of itself is a construct—meta!

10. Kentucky—brought to you by the letter "B!"

11. Like, never, ever buy a $20 deep-fryer from Big Lots. It may burn your TA down.

—Mathew Leonard is the outgoing president of the Vassar Student Association.