NOT EVERY TRIUMPH is accompanied by a medal; for some, it might be as simple as smiling and nodding while walking across the stage without an award.  

There’s an unusual kind of quietness that occurs during the graduation ceremony when your name isn’t followed by a summa cum laude, magna cum laude, or cum laude award. While some will don their gleaming symbols of academic excellence around their necks, others will only bear their diploma — along with the silent and the intangible burden of the effort required to achieve it.  

“When you withhold measuring yourself by comparison and start appreciating the fortitude it took to just keep going — that’s when attainment starts to perceive like a real victory.”

My siblings are all accomplished individuals in their respective fields. They are exceptionally clever in their own way, having forged their own paths and wearing medals proudly around their necks. I remember watching them with great pride — and quietly wondering if I’d ever have a moment like that. But this wasn’t about overshadowing their achievements.  It was about proving to myself that even without the same accolades, I was still enough.  

It’s strange and sometimes isolating to watch others celebrate their victories with enthusiasm while I sit quietly, suffering the agony of feeling like an ordinary student. Every graduation season, my social media feeds flood with photos and lengthy captions containing medals, latin honors, and proud announcements of job offers — as they should. Despite this, I continue to quietly celebrate their achievements from behind a screen. I smile and tap the like, or heart, button with the same fingers that once flipped through countless pages of readings and assignments at two a.m., fueled by grit, determination, and the pressure to succeed in school.  

I believe there is an unspoken stigma associated with our academic culture that implies honors are a measure of how hard you work or how smart you are, but that is a myth that we must dispel. Because behind every unrecognized student without a medal is a story that is equally worth telling. Maybe some, a story of holding a part-time job, caring for family members, or even suffering from a loss. What matters is the art of showing up, again and again, even when it is hard.  

I’ll even admit — there were moments after I finished college when I questioned my worth, simply because I didn’t graduate with latin honors or any academic distinction. But in reality, the true achievement was simply getting through the good and hard days — not just for applause or approval, but for myself in years to come. That kind of self-realization and growth does not come with honors, but it has a significant impact on oneself.  

And perhaps, in the silence of that kind of recognition, is where the  real self development begins. When you withhold measuring yourself by comparison and start appreciating the fortitude it took to just keep going — that’s when attainment starts to perceive like a real victory. That type of accomplishment does not require validation to be authentic and genuine.  

In a society where we are drawn to certificates, medallions, and dramatic announcements, finishing without accolades may not be the desired outcome. But we must recognize, deep down, that not yielding is all that matters.  

So, here’s to those who crossed the finish line.  

To those who may not wear medals on stage but bear the weight of all the hardships they have overcome.  

To those who didn’t seek approval from others, but instead had the tenacity to finish what they started.  

And to those who showed up at the end with nothing to prove but plenty to be grateful for.