September 7, 2015 - 14:11
Isn’t it fascinating, that the simple act of holding someone’s hand can mean so many things to so many different people? We learn the art of holding one’s hand at a very small age. Parents tell their children to hold their hand when they cross the street, which is their way of saying “I’m here to protect you, I want no harm to come to you because my love for you is infinite.” So much is said in an action that we hardly think of. It is not just parents and children that hold hands. Friends, lovers, and siblings hold hands. It can be a tight squeeze, to let the other know that they are there for them in a difficult time, or to just tell them they are not alone.
Recently, I participated in a tradition called parade night. I will not get into much detail (as I have been sworn to secrecy) yet I will say that many of the participants, myself included, were holding hands. I am sure that not all of the people holding hands were in a relationship with each other, and I am sure there were people who were in a relationship that did not hold hands. For me, the act of holding hands that night was less of a romantic gesture, but more a symbol of unity. We were both experiencing this tradition together. One of the reasons I fell in love with Bryn Mawr was because of the love students had for each other and the school. In that moment, I felt as though I was holding hands with the entire school. We were united in a common bond, the love for our school, and nobody can ever take that feeling away from me.