This blog was written by Global Gap Year Fellow Maya Resnick.
My backpack—bright teal and periwinkle—sits at my feet as I type this on a new MacBook, its trackpad still bearing the peeling remnants of a Harris-Walz sticker. This backpack has been passed down through two previous GGYF gappers and was handed to me at our summer institute. It carries not only the weight of my belongings but the memories and traditions of the women before me. I am honored to be the third in line to travel the world with this backpack. As I leave America, I am empowered by its legacy and in awe of the women who have carried it before me.
At the same time, I can’t shake the nervousness of representing America abroad in 2024, with the political climate being what it is. Given the current state of affairs in American politics, I’m particularly curious about how Peruvians will welcome me. This brings me back to my computer, which I purchased as my work device during the Harris campaign. For the past three months, I’ve poured myself into a campaign driven by joy and the promise of new beginnings. While I am not proud of the final results, the friendships I formed, the lessons I learned about southern Appalachian politics, and the long, hard hours were all worth it. And so I am leaving America with a newly learned deep appreciation for small towns—the very backbone of this country—and a commitment to immersing myself in the small communities I’ll encounter abroad. Yet, as I depart, I also leave behind a town devastated by an unexpected hurricane. A storm that arrived with no warning and has left a decade of damage in its wake. I’m leaving my family in the aftermath, with the water finally turned on for the first time in 54 days, while toxic mud still clings to everything it touched near the riverbanks. Relief efforts will continue, but the scars remain. In leaving, I carry both the weight of this moment and the hope for healing in the places I go.