By Madison Zhou
Graduating Editor-in-Chief
GRAPHIC/ Madison Zhou
Growing up people saw me as that USC Trojan girl. Before I knew how to spell “university,” I could recite their Fight Song. My baby blanket was cardinal and gold. My parents, both proud alumni, filled our home with every tribute to Troy imaginable—pillows embroidered with “Fight On,” photos from Homecoming weekends and more Tommy Trojan gnomes than I could count. It wasn’t just school spirit. It was my identity.
When college decisions came out, and I realized I wouldn’t be joining the Trojan ranks just yet, it felt like the lights dimmed in the very place I thought they’d shine the brightest. The sparkle of how sure I was about my path flickered uncertainly. I had always imagined decorating my college dorm with the same Trojan memorabilia that had once filled my childhood room. Instead, I sat in silence, trying to make sense of a future that no longer mirrored the vision I’d clung to for so long.
It wasn’t just about the school—it was about the people, the dreams I had wrapped around those red and gold ribbons. Kaylee Eiber, my Editor-in-Chief predecessor and fellow USC dreamer, once said we’d see our Rampage banners hanging side by side on the Class of 2024’s wall. But when her USC Rampage banner was tucked away in the most hidden corner of the Class of 2024 display, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder—was that a sign? Knowing my banner won’t bear the Trojan crest stings. Not because the school defines me, but because for so long, I believed it did.
But somewhere in that ache, I found something else: space.
Space to ask who I am beyond the Trojan girl. Space to mourn the future I didn’t get—and celebrate the one that’s still mine to shape. I’m learning that dreams aren’t always lost. Sometimes, they’re just rerouted. And perhaps the unexpected isn’t the enemy of a good life, but the architect of a better one.
Now, as I step foot into college as a Pacific Tiger, I feel a new kind of pride stirring—one born not from tradition, but from transformation. Still, I carry the Trojan spirit with me. Because even if the letters on my sweatshirt have changed, the girl wearing it hasn’t. She’s still ambitious, still passionate, and still writing her legacy—even if the banner looks a little different than planned.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the most Trojan thing about me.