Elise Christina Wilson ’26 delivered the student speech
To the members of the board of trustees, President Paula Johnson, Provost Coile, distinguished speaker Dr. Ruth J. Simmons, faculty, staff, friends, and family members who have traveled miles to be here, and the phenomenal purple class of 2026!
It is truly an honor to be standing on this incredible stage today. For myself, and my fellow classmates, this moment is more than a ceremony. It is the culmination of intense academic work, years of laughter (and some occasional tears of course!), friendship, personal growth, and the beginning of a new chapter with endless possibilities ahead!
I am the proud daughter of a father from Ghana and a mother from South Carolina. Growing up, I moved between two different worlds, learning from both my Ghanaian and Southern roots. As a child, I spent many summers with my Nana, who never missed the chance to impart valuable life lessons through Ghanaian proverbs.
One of her lessons that has had a particular impact on me is the principle of ebusua.
Among the Akan people of Ghana, ebusua means clan—a concept that reminds us that we belong to something: I am, because we are. Wherever we go, we carry our ebusua with us—our clan, our community, our family.
Nana would often say, “Every person is like a piece in the jigsaw puzzle of life—each piece unique, each piece necessary, and only together do they form a complete picture to create something far richer than any one of us could alone.”
Over time, I realized the spirit of ebusua is what makes Wellesley, Wellesley.
I remember the very first time I stepped onto this campus four years ago for Admitted Students Weekend. It was a Saturday morning in April—which, as we all know, is the warmest and sunniest month in the “tropical” state of Massachusetts.
I met some of you for the very first time in Alumnae Hall. We toured this beautiful campus, walked along Lake Waban, ran away from a few very aggressive geese, and ended up at Lulu sampling what seemed like every ice cream flavor in existence. After four years of this decadence, I think we can all add “Ice Cream Connoisseur” to our résumés, don’t you?
As I made my way to the Academic Quad with my tour group, and a cup of Graham Central Station in hand, it suddenly started to, of all things to happen, hail!
I was so confused, especially as a Southerner. I didn’t know that Massachusetts weather would be right for me after that moment. And we all scrambled, slipping and sliding, into Pendleton East, where the rest of the tour continued as a slideshow.
Still, life has a way of balancing itself out.
Later that afternoon, my family and I drove to Providence, Rhode Island, to visit friends. The sun was shining, and everyone was outside enjoying the warmth—a comical contrast to the cold, gray afternoon I had just left behind in Massachusetts.
But even with the sunshine in Providence, I couldn’t shake the lingering uncertainty. Would Wellesley ever feel like home?
Then I met someone who made everything clear.
While in the giant state of Rhode Island, we happened to meet Janet Cooper Nelson, the chaplain of Brown University, who told us she was a Wellesley alum from the class of ’71.
In true Wellesley fashion, she went on and on about the College, talking about rolling some type of hoop across campus, kissing marathon runners in the spring, and even jumping into the lake at midnight for a penny. Which, to a prospective student, was intriguing, but also mildly concerning.
But as she recounted these strange traditions, she spoke about the lifelong friendships she built, and how Wellesley shaped her into the person she had become. Through that conversation, I began to understand something I hadn’t yet been able to articulate: that belonging is something that recognizes you before you recognize it yourself. I could almost hear Nana saying: “I am, because we are.”
Because of that chance meeting, I stand here today, a very proud soon-to-be Wellesley graduate, who, in a few minutes, will turn the tassel that makes it official.
Over these past four years at Wellesley, I have found my ebusua.
From my motley crew in Munger, who made me feel at home my first year, to Wellesley AIKO, who welcomed me with open arms, and to the countless office hours with my professors where “15 minutes” often became three hours (sorry, Professor Greer), each one of these people embodying the spirit of ebusua.
Ebusua could also be felt in the late-night hangouts in our dorms, where we watched Love Island or attempted obscure recipes that we found on TikTok (which, for the record, never turned out to be very good).
It’s in the classrooms at Wellesley, where a political science major, an art history major, and yes, even an astrophysics major can all come together to learn and challenge one another while valuing each others’ perspective.
It’s in the friendships that carry us through moments of joy, doubt, and uncertainty, and in holding space for one another through hard times. Recently, we said goodbye to a classmate whose presence touched all of us. Even in her absence, her spirit reminds us of the power of community, and the importance of making sure no one ever walks alone. We hold her in our memory today.
Over these four years, we have lived our class motto, “Dare to Flourish,” which has ebusua woven all throughout. Those three words challenge us to bring our full collective selves, to take risks, to grow boldly, and to uplift those around us so that we can all flourish together.
“Dare to Flourish” isn’t just a banner, or the subject line of Dean Mokoro’s very, very numerous emails. It is a transformational creed, and a promise we will carry with us into the world.
We are stepping into a world that is uncertain, complicated, and, more than ever, divided. As we leave Wellesley, we aren’t just taking diplomas with us—we are taking with us a sense of responsibility. We have been given the tools to act and push for change, even when it feels impossible. The spirit of ebusua continues to guide us. We are strongest when we move together, when we make space for every voice, and we are strongest when we build networks of genuine care and support for all.
Like an econ pset, the world doesn’t come with easy answers. And unlike an econ pset, there is no answer key. The world pushes us to act with courage when we are expected to cower in fear, and to care when indifference seems easier.
Both in and beyond the classroom, Wellesley has empowered us to look beyond the obvious, and challenge the limits of what we are told is possible.
We know that the future belongs to those who dare to imagine solutions that no one has dared to imagine yet.
So, to my fellow graduates, I offer this:
Embrace the jigsaw puzzle of life, and remember ebusua: You are, because we are. Wherever you go, know that you belong there. And your presence there makes the picture complete.
Every piece—every person, every story, every voice—matters. Celebrate the differences that make our communities whole. Create space for those who have been denied.
And remember that ebusua isn’t about being the centerpiece of the puzzle. It’s making sure that when every piece fits, every piece shines.
Congratulations to the class of 2026!