When I first arrived at Texas A&M, I wasn’t sure what it meant to “Bleed maroon.” From the ritual of saying “Howdy” to the Aggie football yells and a sense of uniformity that defined Aggie culture — all of it felt like a language I hadn’t learned to speak.
For some, that connection comes naturally. For others, like me, it takes time, reflection and a willingness to see A&M as a home far away from home — a home that you define rather than one you must fit yourself into.
This semester, as I slipped my Aggie Ring on for the first time, I realized that gold can mean more than one thing. Here is what this ring tells me.
It isn’t just a symbol of school spirit or the end of a long line of traditions. It’s the gold at the end of the A&M rainbow. A gleam of something hard-earned and a quiet acknowledgement that I have carved my own space here. It is the first piece of legacy I’ve claimed as an earned emblem of belonging.
When I look at mine, I don’t see just another A&M tradition. I see every paper written at midnight that has tested my patience, every newsroom print night I worked that stretched past dinner, every moment I wondered if my voice belonged in the chorus. I see the person I was when I started — uncertain, cautious, observing from the sidelines — and the person I’ve grown into, one who knows that contribution can take many forms.
Being an Aggie doesn’t look the same for everyone. That’s something we don’t always say out loud. My A&M experience hasn’t been built on standing shoulder to shoulder in Kyle Field or knowing every verse of the Aggie War Hymn. It’s been built in quiet conversations, in stories shared through the newsroom, in challenging ideas and learning from people who see the world differently.
For someone who doesn’t fit the traditional Aggie mold — culturally or personally — the ring feels like both an embrace and a declaration. It says: “I’ve done the work, I’ve exceeded the standard and I belong here too.” A&M prides itself on unity, and unity doesn’t always mean sameness — it means persistence through difference and the courage to stand firm in who you are with a commitment to community. The Aggie Ring reminds me that inclusion is an ongoing project, one that every Aggie contributes simply by showing up as themselves.
The ring doesn’t erase my individuality, but rather complements it. It accessorizes not just my hand, but my history here — a reminder that success shines through even when the path is unconventional. When I finally turn and wear this ring outward, as tradition dictates, I’ll do so knowing my Aggie story may look different, and that’s exactly why it matters.
The ring marks my place in its evolving presence, one where the Aggie Spirit can mean compassion, curiosity and courage as much as tradition. The ring does not complete the story, but gives me a “weight” to lift as I conclude it.
In the end, the Aggie Ring is more than a reward. It’s a conversation between who we’ve been, who we are and who we’re becoming. I’ll proudly wear my gold, knowing it represents not just where I arrived, but how I’ve gotten here — on my own terms and in full radiance.
