I’ve always considered myself to be an extrovert — I love meeting people, thrive in social environments and my friends will definitely agree when I say that I enthusiastically extend my friendship to anything that breathes. Yet, there is one group of people that I’m always a bit hesitant to meet: Brazilians.
Before you report me to the Duke Office for Institutional Equity, there’s something you should know: I’m Brazilian myself. I was born and raised in São Paulo to Brazilian-born parents — but that’s where the claim to my Brazilian identity ends. My jet black eyes and hair betray the fact that I’m Chinese (Shanghainese, to be exact) and the gringo accent on my Portuguese signals my American upbringing and education (I attended an American School in Brazil and speak English at home).
And while I know in my heart that I’m Brazilian — though I admittedly don’t watch soccer — when I meet other Brazilians, I fail to feel as Brazilian as they are. Suddenly, I’m hyper aware of my gringo accent and largely resort to speaking in English, as if hiding my sotaque will prevent them from unmasking me as a fake Brazilian.
I felt like an outsider to my own culture; and so, I searched for community elsewhere. I found myself at the bottom of the endless, winding stairs to 301 Flowers.
My cousin, the photo editor of the time, had convinced me to join the department. She lured me in with the possibility of shooting a basketball game and having the luxury of skipping the grueling walk-up line. A complete novice to photography, it was with her that I learned to put a camera together and take my first photos.
Two short years later, I accepted the photo editor position at The Chronicle with no hesitation; I was thrilled by the opportunity. I had so many ideas and plans that I could hardly wait for the second the clock hit midnight after LDOC — Volume 119’s first breath. But as the summer passed by and I prepared to welcome in a whole new group of photographers to our department, I felt some doubt creep in.
I was still figuring things out. I could barely articulate what aperture was or why we kept it as low as possible, and I was still losing a battle to the overly yellow Cameron lighting. I didn’t even know what to look for in a good camera or lens, or any of the fancy tools photographers used. Would the incoming photographers be able to sniff out my lack of experience? Did they have more photo experience than me? Was I qualified to lead, or was I still an outsider, peering in?
As The Chronicle newcomers rolled in, though, all those fears gradually went away. After all, they were just people, right? I could deal with people. Rather than obsess over what I did or didn’t know about photography and what niche photo techniques I had or hadn’t heard about, I poured my heart and soul into the people.
I made it my personal mission to truly get to know each and every student who stopped by the photo department — whether they showed up consistently to meetings or came by once every few weeks. I memorized faces, names, majors, hometowns and just about any information shared with me. I cherished each and every primary assignment I took, grateful for the opportunity to small talk with my shadowing photographers.
It was exhausting, but in the best way possible. And as I spoke at our end-of-year banquet, I couldn’t help but tear up as I looked towards the full table of young photographers I had shared the past year with. My time as photo editor was not defined by the photos I took or the photography skills I had taught; it was defined by the people I had met and the moments we’d shared. Those were my people: I had found the belonging I’d craved.
* * *
For a lot of my time at Duke, I felt like I was simultaneously chasing my Brazilian identity and running away from it. It was paradoxical: I’d take a capoeira class in the hopes it’d make me more Brazilian, yet refuse to speak Portuguese to my friends in BRASA.
But I know now that belonging to a group is not just about sharing a common skill, ability or interest. Learning new photography techniques did not help me feel like I belonged to The Chronicle’s photo department. Creating deep relationships with those in it did.
So while I listen to Brazilian podcasts every morning to improve my Portuguese, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may never get rid of my gringo accent. And I’ll probably never be a great soccer player or listen to funk. But that’s okay — from the countless friendships I’ve made with those back home and the Brazilian community here at Duke, I know I belong. Obrigada por tudo.
Alyssa Ting is a Trinity senior and served as photo editor for The Chronicle’s 119th volume. She would like to thank all of The Chronicle’s staff, lowermast and uppermast for the admirable work they put in every day. She’d especially like to thank her cousin Bella for inspiring her to join The Chronicle and welcoming her into the department, as well as Becca and Winnie for serving as an excellent example of Photo leadership. She is so incredibly proud of Karen and Morgan for the amazing work they’ve done in leading the photo department for Vol. 120, and can’t wait for Amy and Anabel to do great things with it next year. To Abigail, she expresses all her love and gratitude — for being her rock from their first day at The Chronicle all the way to the end, and tolerating her endless texting along the way. Last but not least, she’d like to shout out her suitemates, family and friends for supporting her along the way and making her feel so capable and loved.
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Alyssa Ting is a Trinity junior and a photography editor of The Chronicle's 119th volume.