July 31, 2025
July 31, 2025
Three years ago, when I was applying to college, I ended my college essay with a sentence that felt like a dare to myself:
“Dream so big you get uncomfortable telling those dreams to small-minded people.”
At the time, I wasn’t sure what that dream would become. I just knew I wanted more than what was expected of me — more than a degree, more than the safe options offered to someone like me. I wanted skyscrapers and press releases, proactive brainstorms and bagel runs, late nights spent putting together media lists for causes I believed in. I wanted to be a PR girl in the Big Apple.
For a long time, that dream felt too big to say out loud, especially as a South Asian international student hearing “no” after “no” from companies that couldn’t (or wouldn’t) look past my visa status or where I came from. Still, I kept applying. Kept preparing. Kept believing there had to be space for someone like me.
Making Space for Someone Like Me
I’m Riva Surana, a senior at Arizona State University – and this summer, I took my first real step toward that big, impossible dream. I moved to New York City as a Foster the Future Fellow at Mission North, a place that didn’t just open the door, but held it wide open.
This fellowship gave me more than a resume line. It gave me belonging, belief, and proof that the version of me who dared to dream big wasn’t naïve. She was right.
This fellowship gave me more than a resume line. It gave me belonging, belief, and proof that the version of me who dared to dream big wasn’t naïve. She was right.
What I Carried
I finally found a small corner of that space, not in some headline moment, but in the quiet weight of my tote bag each morning as I walked to the Mission North office. Inside that bag were the things I thought I needed to succeed, and the ones I didn’t know I would carry with me at all.
The Mission North hoodie took up space in the main compartment. I never wore it at work, but I always carried it just in case. Some days, I pulled it out and wrapped it around myself when the rain came suddenly or the breeze caught me off guard. It smelled faintly of detergent and of the excitement mixed with nerves that come with starting something new.
My work laptop sat heavy in the center of the bag. No cool stickers, just a plain gray MacBook with a jungle of tabs (sometimes 30 or more) grouped into tasks, Google Sheets, and drafts I constantly edited. On that screen lived dozens of emails, brainstorm decks, and Slack threads.
Tucked into a side pocket was my emotional support lip balm. A small, unremarkable item, but one I reached for before every meeting. It wasn’t about the minty scent or the gloss. It was a grounding gesture. A moment to pause and remind myself: you’re here. You made it in. You can speak now.
And somewhere—not physically in my bag, but always carried—was my digital folder of “Rejections.” Dozens of carefully crafted cover letters, internship applications that disappeared into voids and threads of emails that ended with “Unfortunately…”. I kept them not out of bitterness, but to remember what this “yes” meant.
When Mission North said yes, it wasn’t out of obligation. It was because they believed I had something to offer, and they backed that belief with a scholarship, mentorship, and the opportunity to work in an industry that still has a long way to go in making space for students like me.
The Work That Made It Real
Working with Betterment, I learned more about personal finance and fintech than I ever expected to. I worked on media audits and built out media lists, brought proactive ideas to the table during brainstorms, and helped shape pitches I was proud of. I reread every draft several times before hitting send. I hesitated before unmuting myself on calls.
Some days, I left the office feeling like I had cracked it, that I was finally becoming the person I had imagined at 18. Other days, I felt the weight of everything I didn’t know. But every day, I zipped up my bag and carried it all with me — the doubt, the wins, the small joys of lunch breaks with the team, Kwabena’s Question of The Day Slack messages, and seeing my name on a media list.
Slowly, my team at Mission North helped me learn that good ideas didn’t need perfect accents, and that my perspective mattered even if it came wrapped in uncertainty.
Slowly, my team at Mission North helped me learn that good ideas didn’t need perfect accents, and that my perspective mattered even if it came wrapped in uncertainty.
I once read that confidence is just quiet evidence stacking up. This summer, I started collecting proof.
When the fellowship ended, I unpacked my bag for the last time in my sublet room, quiet and still. The laptop came home with me. The lip balm went in my pocket. The hoodie, now broken in, stayed on. And the dream — the one I used to be scared to say out loud — felt a little less distant.
Proof of Belonging
Looking back, that tote bag held more than just work essentials. It carried the first real proof that I belonged in the world I once only whispered about. I came into this fellowship with curiosity and a hundred quiet questions, and I left with sharper skills and a louder sense of self. I learned how to audit media coverage with intention, build thoughtful media lists, and research not just what stories are told, but who tells them, and why.
More than anything, I learned that I don’t have to shrink my voice to fit the room.
More than anything, I learned that I don’t have to shrink my voice to fit the room. I can take up space. I can speak up. And I can dream big — so big it still makes me a little uncomfortable to say it out loud.
