THE WESTERN BORDER
Letters to Birmingham-Southern
belltower / Nicole Villavicencio-Garduño
The Western Border invited students to share their thoughts and feelings on the school's closure to be included with the last official issue of the magazine. Their words stand as a monument to the significance of this school.
What BSC Means To Me
"From the late night library studies, to the deep talks in the caf, to sitting by the fountain, to going out with friends, to walking down the halls and saying hi to everyone you pass, not a moment will I take for granted. For this place truly is my home."
Dear Birmingham Southern College,
Seven months ago I walked onto your campus a nervous wreck, scared of what the next four years would have in store for me. If I would have realized then what an impact this school would have on me, I would have had more of a grateful heart as I moved in. As I walked onto campus for the first time, I was met by all the orientation leaders filled with excitement, greeted by the administration, and said hello to all my future best friends. What seemed like a small room with two beds, dressers, and desk became my home away from home. I knew by the night of the move in day, this was the place where I belonged.
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Seven months later and I am beyond proud that I picked a small school like you. I am grateful for you, and no one will ever come close to comparing to you. In just one year, you have shaped me into the person I want to become. You have taught me to be a leader, get out of my comfort zone, to have integrity, to love, and most importantly to fight. You gave me friendships that will last a lifetime, future bridesmaids, teammates, and mentors. There is not a day that goes by that I do not interact with someone on campus and learn something I never knew, or make a memory that I will remember for a lifetime. The people here are in your corner, willing to fight for you, and help you unlike any other place I have known before. From the late night library studies, to the deep talks in the caf, to sitting by the fountain, to going out with friends, to walking down the halls and saying hi to everyone you pass, not a moment will I take for granted. For this place truly is my home.
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Although my time here was cut short, I am filled with gratitude that I got to experience one year at the place that gave me a family, happiness, an amazing education, and teammates that would impact me tremendously. Although, BSC may no longer be a place, it will be a memory, something each one of us will carry in our hearts for the rest of our lives. We will use the lessons, learning, memories, and hardships that shaped us as we continue on for the rest of our lives. This place truly was pure happiness.
Anna Morgan Shelton, Freshman, Psychology Major
May 2027
I don’t know the exact date of my graduation
and I guess I never will. Last week I walked across the seal, each step filled with anger and despair. I used to walk to the other side of the bell tower to avoid stepping on the scared symbol, not wanting to curse my graduation date.
May 2027
I guess it doesn’t matter now.
So, I redirect myself, right into the pathway of the seal. I stomp on it.
Sometimes I slap the ones the adorn the sides of the light posts that stopped working many years ago.
Have you looked at the fountain recently?
I remember walking onto campus for the first time and the water seemed to touch the sun.
Now it fizzles out with a sad gurgle.
That’s how my academic career feels;
Fizzled out.
May 2027
I hope to see you soon.
-With love, dejection, and resentment
A Student of The Class of 2027
On the Hilltop
Dear Birmingham-Southern,
Is it cliché to start with thank you?
I arrived on the Hilltop in August of 2017. I had spent my entire life up until that point zigging zagging across the country, moving, like clockwork, every three years. I was excited to be somewhere for four years. I was excited to leave the high school I had only attended my senior year. I was excited to find a community, find a home.
That fall, I square danced. I rowdied after dark. I went to my first classes. Stayed up too late on the porch between Maggie D and Cullen. Two weeks in, I had fallen wholly in love with Birmingham-Southern. Entranced by the people, obsessed with the campus, in awe of the professors. Who knew a community could feel this good? I was surrounded, immediately, by the best, brightest, most interesting people I would ever come to meet. How did I get so lucky?
The years moved, as they do, forward, ever. I loved that little campus ferociously, loved who I was becoming on that campus. I became more myself. Under the guidance of Fred Ashe, Dave Ullrich, Michael McInturff, Jessica Hines, Tynes Cowan, and Joseph Stitt, I learned how to approach and interpret difficult texts and how literature shapes and informs the world around us. I learned how to conduct research, craft arguments, and discuss with precision and intention. Under the leadership of David Eberhardt, Dana Bekurs, and Robby Prince, I learned about humility and hard work and how to welcome new students onto our campus and to embrace them for whomever they were, just I had been that first August. With the love of my friends, for the first time, I was able to be the best version of myself, entirely comfortable with who I am. Whether I call them on our drives home from work every Thursday or am simply randomly reminded of one particular classroom discussion on The Awakening, the hours spent with these people fundamentally shaped the person I am today, and their continual impact has given me everything I need to live a life of continued significance.
Birmingham-Southern has given me everything I deem good in my life, from my closest friends to my partner—who I fell in love with the summer after I graduated, one last gift from my beloved Hilltop—to my love of literature, of art, of history and my fervent desire for lifelong learning. And, finally, my ability to be myself in my entirety all comes from the little college, nestled away on the city’s western border.
So, thank you Birmingham-Southern for everything you have given and will continue to give me. Your bell will never stop ringing.
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Mallory Schirm
Class of 2021
(Former) English Major
"My ability to be myself in my entirety all comes from the little college, nestled away on the city’s western border."
Stranded on this hilltop,
There are new faces
Far as the eye can see
Intertwined by an invisible string
As if they are destined to meet
To go Forward ever.
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Some strings conquer and prevail
As the years go by.
Others fall behind
And struggle to extend through
The city’s western border to
Reach the new faces.
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Whilst new experiences create
Bonds strong as steel
Humming the tune of friendship
There are new faces
Stranded on this hilltop
With their invisible frayed strings
1856
Will Slaughter
Class of 2025 graduating early
Untitled / Ansley Pecoul
What is Birmingham-Southern College?
"BSC has a special ability to deeply impact the lives of everyone who was fortunate enough to be involved in some way, and it breaks my heart that people will not be able to go on the journey that BSC offers."
In the Fall of 2018, my mom convinced me to tour this random college in Alabama. I had grown up just outside of Birmingham, and had heard mentions of Birmingham-Southern College, but never considered it for myself. I just felt like it wasn’t the place for me. After the tour, I was slowly starting to come around to the idea of BSC, but I didn’t really feel like it made sense for me until a few weeks into my freshman year. That Tuesday, when the air was thick with humidity and the students were milling around Norton Student Center in an effort to enjoy the air conditioning, I walked into Religious Life. There was an event happening, and I’m sure I looked like a deer in headlights, scared to move because I didn’t know anyone, and as a blind person, I couldn't see what was happening around me. A girl walked up to me, and she asked for my name. She asked if she could give me a tour around the office, and I said yes. She took my hand, and showed me everything. When I mentioned I was blind and that I loved coffee, I could tell her eyes lit up. She had me feel each coffee mug in the kitchen and helped me pick out my favorite one (a green one with tactile peace signs all over it). It was then I knew BSC was my place, and I felt at home.
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…
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I used to give tours of campus, and doing this as a blind person definitely made for interesting interactions. I came in one day, ready to give my tour with the other tour guide. However, said tour guide ended up not being able to make it. I decided I could give the tour on my own. I thought it went horribly, but the person I gave the tour to later told me that he made his decision to come to BSC thanks to my tour. That person turned out to be one of my best friends, and just two years later, he guided me across the stage of graduation, helping to make sure I started my new adventures with confidence. I think that is one of the best examples of what a friendship found at BSC can be. Something that starts with one person helping another, and ends with both people helping each other in love. Because here’s the thing, as cliche as it sounds, the friends I made there aren’t just my friends, they are my family. They are people who I still talk to, who I still love, and who mean the absolute world to me.
I hate that Birmingham-Southern College is closing, because everything I just told you, that’s just me. That is the briefest glimpse of a 4 year period that was also deeply affected by the COVID-19 pandemic. If BSC could do all of that (and more) for me, a blind student who felt they could not thrive in an academic setting and who was seeking something bigger than themself, think about all it has done for everyone who passed through those gates, and all it could have done in the future.
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I want to share a secret with you, friend: my story is not unique. Sure, the circumstances are unique. No one has experienced BSC like I did, but a lot of people have remarkably similar stories to my own, just tailored to their lives. This homogeneity of stories connected with a thread of uniqueness is what made BSC so special. The community of people at the school knew what you needed, and adapted to fit those needs. So many people have stories of what this school did for them, and it may shock you to realize how similar they are to my own. BSC has a special ability to deeply impact the lives of everyone who was fortunate enough to be involved in some way, and it breaks my heart that people will not be able to go on the journey that BSC offers.
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I wish I had something inspirational to say to end this, but I don’t. Instead, I want to bring forward a message of comfort. At the Hilltop, we are a community, and when part of a community is hurting, we all feel it. This week, and throughout the next weeks, months, and years, our very foundation is hurting. The place we called home is hurting. We may not be able to fix the hurt, but we can be together and remember what we have gained. We can talk to those who understand what BSC means. We can rest in the comfort of knowing we aren’t alone. My heart goes out to current students, faculty, and staff, as their grief feels far different than my own as an alum, and I do not pretend to understand what they are feeling. Birmingham-Southern College may be ending, but you, your story, your beautiful experience, that continues. I have nothing more I can say, other than: forward, ever!
Rea Green
Class of 2023
Untitled / Priscilla Pinky Rockoff
Limbo
An encasing hole
Swallowing up the gold, all
Because there was not enough
Green to keep the red out.
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The rigor mortis is setting in
And the canes are calling
Unfortunately the roar
Of the panthera is dull
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While the elders sit and watch
Twiddling their thumbs
Waiting for the gavel to
Come down and keep the gold out.
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It’s getting real
Hope begins to flicker
And the gold begins
To float down the drain.
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It begins to sink in
And the farewells are harder
All because there wasn’t
Enough green to keep the red out.
Will Slaughter
Class of 2025 graduating early
To Birmingham-Southern College and the Liberal Arts
If all could see you as I do, my dearest love divine!
No more would men then scowl and smirk, rejoice at your decline.
Your worth is not in money earned, or parcels plotted clean,
But in your care to human growth and not your own esteem!
There is, of course, those in your halls who only seek to gain
The transient treasures of the world but slight the learned train.
Your legacy is far from clean, abound mistakes you’ve made.
The care that you still seek to gain to all have not been laid.
To those who face the hate and scorn engrained into your birth,
You still subject to them these sins; our bias walks the earth.
But still your envoys labor for the reason kind and true,
Of cultivating simpler minds and showing them the new.
If you are gutted from the world, your knowledge lost to time,
Then we have squandered what we are, our willful loss a crime.
Oh, pillar-stone of all our truth, of those yet still to come,
You carry all our hope and trust, and beat our mortal drum.
If you are thrown the precious rope, if knowledge wins the day,
Then let us vow to love and care, and find the righteous way.
Those who live in darkness may ne’er see her gracious glow,
But those now planted towards her rays still of her value know.
Let us still hope, in future years, still reared against the sky,
Our city’s western border shines, your love we still descry.
Our world may fall, no matter, yet for even if we fail,
We still will carry in our hearts, “to BSC, all Hail!”
Collin Cortinas
Class of 2023
Untitled / Ansley Pecoul
Lavender Graduation Speech
Hello, everyone from BSC, UAB, and the Magic City Acceptance City; thank you for allowing me to share my experience and story as a BSC student. My name is Sara Stone, and I use She/Her pronouns. I’m a Senior English Major with a writing minor. I am currently serving as the director of LGBTQIA+ events at Birmingham-Southern College. I’m from Jackson, Mississippi, and I’m honored and excited to be speaking to the queer community of Birmingham on this day.
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Before my speech, I would like to thank some people here today. Firstly, I would like to thank the Magic City Acceptance Center. Throughout my time at BSC, MCAC has always had a presence on Birmingham-Southern’s campus, whether providing resources for students or planning events with our campus organization. Thank you for allowing us to bring our queer community together today in your space for Lavender Graduation. Every single person here appreciates MCAC and what you do for the community. And most importantly, the hope and resilience you represent for Birmingham. I would also like to thank Amanda for your kind words and emotionally impactful speech. you, specifically, do so much for the city of Birmingham, and every single person here appreciates everything you do.
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Secondly, thank you, UAB, for holding this event with us. You have been kind and welcoming throughout the entire event planning process. Many of our students at our campus will be joining UAB in the coming Fall semester, so I thank you for welcoming and opening doors for those unable to continue their education at BSC.
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I would like to acknowledge and thank the faculty, staff, and my fellow peers. Staff and faculty such as Katiyln Gedding, Cece Lacey, Louanne Jacobs, and Dr. Faxol, you strive everyday to build and open BSC to queer students, and we all appreciate what you do. Lastly, I want to acknowledge my peers here today. Every single one of you strives to make BSC a safer campus for our community. Your existence is beautiful, and your impact will only grow with the next steps you take, whether you are graduating or transferring to a new university. You are lovely, and it has been an honor to share BSC with all of you.
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When writing this speech, I struggled to decipher what story and advice I could share with you today that you don’t already know. After all, just like all of you, I’m finding my way through my 20s. I reached out to my mom for assistance, and she reminded me of a story she often tells.
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Growing up, I got into a lot of trouble. I was diagnosed with severe ADHD and dyslexia in the 2nd grade. I struggled to pay attention in class, frequently got reprimanded for my loud behavior, and constantly felt like an outsider among my peers. On top of having learning disorders, I was a lesbian from Suburban Mississippi, and I constantly felt like I had to hide myself to fit in, and hiding caused me to act out even more. I spent the entirety of my youth striving to be who everyone else was and what I believed people wanted me to be. I was eager to please my parents, teachers, and, most of all, my peers. The only person whose thoughts never seemed important to me were my own. What I wanted, and more importantly, who I wanted to be with were sidelined by the opinions and thoughts of others. When confronted with my behavior by my parents, I heard them plead and beg for an explanation, trying to understand me and my actions. I never had a justification. All I would say to them was, “I’m not done yet.”
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Being a queer person, we often feel like we are behind in life. I came out at 18 to the first friend I made at BSC. At that moment, I remember feeling lots of emotions. However, the one that stuck out the most was the feeling of being behind. I, at 18 years old, finally coming to terms with my sexuality, thought I was behind. When you put it in perspective, it’s a bit silly. But it’s a genuine feeling that I’m sure many of you today have experienced.
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Once you go through all the turmoil and finally feel comfortable in yourself, you reflect and realize how much you missed out on. I’m here today to tell you that you are not behind. Whether you came out at 15 or 70, you are not behind because you, just like me, were not done yet. Your journey is your own unique path that you must take.
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E.E. Cummings famously said, “It takes courage to grow up and become who you are.” I’ve been thinking about this quote often when reflecting on my path and journey as a BSC student. I chose to come to BSC because I knew nobody. When I graduated from high school, all I wanted out of college was the opportunity to get out of Suburban Mississippi. A clean slate where I could be free to explore myself without the judgment of the small southern town where I grew up. I had no idea how much BSC and Birmingham would come to mean to me. I’ve never been somebody to grow attached to a place or even people. When I came to college, I wasn’t planning on changing anything about that. BSC was supposed to be the next stop on my journey of getting out of the South. Yet, not only did I form an attachment, I fell in love with BSC and the city of Birmingham. I felt a feeling I’d never experienced before --- I felt the feeling of belonging.
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Not only did I find a place where I felt I belonged, but I also found my path through the powerful opportunities and engaging classes I took at BSC. At 18 years old, never in a million years did I believe I would want to be a writer. Yet, standing here today, I cannot imagine myself walking down any other path. And, I found that path through the BSC faculty and staff's dedication, patience, caring, and thoughtfulness. Their commitment to my education and my future helped build me towards being who I was always supposed to be. And I am so thankful for that dedication to my future because they saw something I couldn’t see in myself. And I see that same potential in this room today. The experiences and relationships you formed at BSC do not mean nothing. They mean everything. You will carry those relationships with faculty and staff onto the next journey in life.
"While this school may be closing on May 31st, Birmingham-Southern will never be done because it is in me. And it is in all of you. The impact of the school is in all of us, and thus, we carry on forward ever."
Those relationships expand beyond those of just faculty and staff. They extend to those around you today. Your peers and fellow students share a unique experience of being a BSC Student. And even more than that, you share the experience of being a queer. Unlike anyone else, you understand how unique and wonderful a place BSC truly is. A place where queer students feel safe. A place where you are free to explore yourself. And a place where you can live without judgment. The relationships you’ve built here are leaving a lasting imprint on your journey to becoming who you were meant to be. Your time here at BSC will continue to be fundamental in your journey, whether you are graduating in May or continuing your education at another university next semester.
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Over these past four years, I have learned a lot about myself, as I’m sure most of you graduating have as well. So much of the lessons I have learned at BSC and the journey of self-discovery I made here are hugely contributed to those here in the room today. Every single one of you helped build and foster an environment of inclusivity, diversity, and safety for all marginalized students. Those lessons of kindness and compassion are invaluable. For those not graduating and continuing their education at another university, the legacy of BSC lives on in each of you, and I hope you will carry it to your future campuses. While others may believe your degree to be the most valuable thing you gained from BSC, I think our growth into the people we’ve become and all the lessons we’ve learned about ourselves are single-handedly the most valuable thing BSC has given all of us. I say that to my fellow graduates as well as underclassmen. Your time here at BSC matters no matter what. If you found meaning in BSC, then your journey is valid. You will continue to carry those values you learned here into the future.
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One of the most important lessons I learned while being a student at BSC is the importance of community. As a queer person, especially one from the South, the value of finding your people cannot be overstated. I wouldn’t be the person here today without the support of my queer friends and community at BSC. I’ve learned more about myself through their love and dedication than from anything else in life. That community extends beyond the campus of BSC itself.
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I encourage every single one of you to seek out your queer community wherever you end up. Whether moving on to grad school or taking a gap year. Get involved and make your voice heard. Your community will always find you if you dig deep and find the courage to make yourself known.
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To those who sadly will not be graduating from BSC, a lot of change is coming your way, and I know that that is scary. You’ve built a community at BSC that, just as it began to feel like a home, has suddenly been torn away from you. The community you have come to love and be comfortable with might not be with you next semester, and it’s okay for you to feel frustrated, sad, or angry. But I also want all of you to know you will find your community again. This is not an end; it is a new path that will take you to where you are meant to go.
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To the graduates here today, worried and scared of the future; I want all of you to know that the queer community will always have your back. You are never alone. Although everyone has walked separate paths, we share the same experience of queerness. That experience binds every one of us together and is the foundation of our community. Although I don’t know every person here today, I know your story because it is a story that mirrors mine. I hope that every single person here today finds their path and has solace in the fact that, just like me, you're not done yet. Your journey is only just beginning.
And even with your time here at the school concluding; whether you are graduating or transferring to another school, your journey is not over but just beginning a new path. And if you are transferring to another school; just know that your journey is not stunted or slowed down by the circumstances. You are not behind. You will carry BSC onto your future institutions and carry the lesson of diversity and equity onto your future campuses.
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To BSC, while this school may be closing on May 31st, Birmingham-Southern will never be done because it is in me. And it is in all of you. The impact of the school is in all of us, and thus, we carry on forward ever.
Sara Stone
Class of 2024
I Swear I'm Not a Cynic
Everything is not okay, and that is okay. Alec Benjamin’s song “I’m Not a Cynic” is a powerful anthem that highlights the fact that life isn’t always great. I discovered this song four years ago during the pandemic when life certainly was not amazing, and here I am blasting it four years later as I am presented with the news that my college will be closing at the end of May. I find that with each line of Alec’s song, I become freer as I embrace the fact that “today’s not my day.”
I find Alec’s second verse in the song to be one that particularly resonates with me. His enforcement of the idea that sometimes we have no control over what we are going through may sound fear inducing, but for me it is liberating. Right now, I have no control over what is going to happen to BSC and that sucks, but Alec’s song is a great reminder that the future of BSC is not something I should be adding to my plate. I simply need to wait, “until the storm just passes through,” which is easier said than done. But the word “passes,” is a great reminder that eventually all this pain and sorrow will drift away. That passing may not be soon, there may still be droplets of water that remain behind afterwards, but eventually the storm will break, and the sun will shine again.
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The bridge in “I’m Not a Cynic” is also a part of the song that really sticks with me. If you are ever around me during times of distress you will probably hear me say, “I’m fine. I mean I’m not fine, but I have to be fine, so I’m fine.” This bridge, and whole song really, is a great reminder to myself that I don’t have to be fine, and I certainly don’t need to fake being fine. There is nothing wrong with not being fine, we all have moments in our lives where we are not okay and by not admitting it, we are doing us all a great disservice. We cannot have real conversations if we fake our emotions and pretend we’re okay. I also love Alec’s use of the ocean metaphor in this section. “Rock[ing] with the waves” captures the idea that waves have upward and downward motions just like each day of life. Right now, and until May 25th, I will constantly feel like I am in a rocking motion. There are days where I feel great and like I know what’s next, and then there are days where I think about how I am losing everything around me. I am just grateful to be on a big boat with a thousand other people rocking along, instead of a single life raft drifting in unknown waters.
"The word “passes” is a great reminder that eventually all this pain and sorrow will drift away. That passing may not be soon, there may still be droplets of water that remain behind afterwards, but eventually the storm will break, and the sun will shine again."
I could talk for hours on how I love the intricate metaphors and use of water in this song, but I have a word limit so let’s just wrap all of this up for now. Overall, I love Alec’s normalization of not being okay. It reminds me of the Hulu original movie I Am Not Okay, in which the hashtag #IAmNotOkay becomes a symbol for others to share and find comfort in the fact that life isn’t always great. I think Alec’s song does a great job of using that message, while also reminding us that life isn’t always bad either. Sometimes today just isn’t our day, but who knows, maybe tomorrow will be.