My Found Family on the Hilltop

As I walked through the front gates of campus, the cheers of Georgetown Admissions Ambassador Program (GAAP) weekend staffers echoed around me, their voices bouncing off the stone walls of campus and filling the fresh spring air. Among the hum of conversation, the sway of the blue and white balloon arches, and the sea of smiling faces, I spotted someone I recognized. 

I hadn’t learned about Georgetown from an admissions officer or a glossy brochure. I learned about it from a fellow Hoya, Frank, the same one who was standing at the gates to welcome me in. During GAAP weekend, I nervously followed Frank around campus, peppering him with questions about classes, clubs, and what life at Georgetown was really like.

One organization he spoke about with particular fondness was the Georgetown Scholars Program (GSP). My family had been hesitant about the idea of sending me states away from home, and even more anxious about the price tag that came with it. But he explained that GSP had been fundamental to his time at Georgetown, offering not just financial support, but a network of people who made the Hilltop feel a little more like home.

Frank’s kindness, patience, and quiet confidence stayed with me. That moment was my first glimpse of what community at Georgetown could look like, and although I didn’t know it yet, it was a glimpse into the GSP family that would soon become my own. 

While I spent most of the day talking with him, I noticed other students already exchanging numbers and their families making dinner plans together. Although I didn’t leave that weekend with a new group chat or dinner invite, I did leave with the belief that I could find my place here too. 

As I prepared to make the move to D.C. a few months later, that same hope resurfaced when I began receiving emails from GSP. Each message reminded me that I wasn’t stepping onto campus entirely alone, but there was already a community waiting to welcome me. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of uncertainty.

For seven years, I had gone to school with people I could call my own. Within the walls of that small New York City public school, we built an unbreakable community, and my friends became my family. They’d seen me through my awkward middle school phase and survived my even more chaotic high school fandom phase. I could even drive to their houses purely from memory, guided not by directions but by years of routine.

When I decided to go to Georgetown, one of my greatest fears was leaving all of that behind. For the first time in years, I was heading to a place where no one knew me, my story, or where I came from. Unlike some of my new classmates, I didn’t arrive with friends from private schools or have family connections on the Hilltop. After my parents moved me in and said their goodbyes, I realized how far I was from everyone that had ever truly known me.

While others may have arrived with communities from home, I was determined to find a place on campus that could be mine: a place where others could understand what I brought with me. I took a gamble, hoping that the GSP community I had heard others speak fondly of could become that place for me.

That fall, I registered for Mastering the Hidden Curriculum, a course designed specifically to help GSP students navigate the unspoken rules of college life and higher education. Twice a week, in a White-Gravenor classroom, the hum of the A/C mixed with our conversations about imposter syndrome, office hours, and everything in between. With our chairs pulled into a circle, I felt that we were writing the shared story I’d worried so much about finding at Georgetown. In that space, we were learning together what it meant to exist in a place that wasn’t built for us and how we can make it our own.

This shared community quickly extended outside of the classroom as I began to visit the GSP Lounge, tucked away in a corner of the fourth floor of Leavey. Week after week, I was greeted at the front desk by some of the familiar faces from the course on the hidden curriculum. I began to learn the names and faces behind GSP, the staff and student leaders who were putting their all into shaping the organization. 

For me, the lounge grew from just another study space to a place where conversation, camaraderie, and coffee were shared. It became a hub of laughter, late-night talks, and mutual support, a space where being FGLI wasn’t something to hide but something to celebrate. This environment fueled my desire to contribute to the program in a broader way. I wanted to be one of the people molding this community that was so important to me. Joining the GSP student board allowed me to do just that—to support the connections that had welcomed me and help cultivate the same sense of belonging for others.

Photo Credits: GSP

Now, in my senior year, I had the incredible honor of cutting the ribbon to honor the opening of our new lounge space in Healy. Watching it fill with gleeful students, staff, and alumni was a powerful reminder that I had found the community worried I wouldn’t be able to create. GSP has always been more than just a scholarship program or a resource center. It’s a community that meets you where you are, that celebrates small victories and carries you through the hard days. It’s the people who know your favorite energy drink, who have pulled all-nighters with you in Lau, and who make Georgetown feel a lot more like home. For those moments when campus gets overwhelming, there’s always been a bright welcoming face in Healy G-30!

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Sharona Nagamuthu is a senior in the SFS majoring in international politics and minoring in Latin American studies and Spanish.