Hiyab Negash, 18, a member of the Class of 2024 at Nathan Hale High School in Seattle, is pretty clear that in middle school she wasn’t the kind of student who would sign up to join a student-leadership group. It turns out, she was wrong.
I am a daughter of two hardworking, dedicated and supportive immigrant parents, who were my motivation to seek out higher education and push myself to go above and beyond.
In middle school, I didn’t think that student groups or leadership positions were for me. But during my final months in eighth grade, I became aware of the lack of Black women representation in leadership roles on campus. I realized that there was no one who looked like me that I could reach out to if I needed help or support. I wanted to be that support for others.
I also didn’t feel that Black voices were being heard or stated. While working remotely, I ensured that I was always attentive and that I included everyone’s thoughts and ideas in events and activities.
I took the initiative to run for an officer position during my freshman year at Nathan Hale High School and became the treasurer of the class of 2024. Later, I was elected Black Student Union President and became the first Black/Eritrean president of the National Honor Society.
Over the course of my high school career, I tried to ensure that students who looked like me had a voice and support and that I was never the only Black girl in a class or the first Black officer of a club. In junior year, I led a forum with Nathan Hale teachers and staff on how to support students of color. It was open to all students to ask questions and comment.
I stayed involved and joined flag football, volleyball and basketball. I grew as a human and a scholar, with the support of Tiffany Robinson, my mentor and physics teacher, William Jackson, my principal, and my two loving and encouraging Eritrean parents, who never made me feel like my dreams were too big and who made me feel like I could overcome and accomplish anything I put my mind to.
At any minor inconvenience, my father would remind me, “Will it matter this much in five years?” If the answer is no, then I move on from the situation and look ahead. My mom taught me, “People come and go. But as long as you don’t lose yourself and settle, everything will work out.”
When we were told in eighth grade that we would be out of school for two weeks, I did not think so much would change.
I look back, and the COVID pandemic doesn’t seem so bad. It’s an event in history; it didn’t have as negative or life-altering effect on me and my family as other events during the same period, like the murder of George Floyd, the genocide of Tigray people in Ethiopia, and the seventh anniversary of the sinking of a ship carrying hundreds of migrants near the Italian island of Lampedusa.
My family escaped dictatorship and came to the United States as refugees. It reminded me that it could have been my family on that ship. I was nothing but grateful for the opportunity to have a better life.