Hello Chelsea,

I’m Johnathan Fuentes, a current undergraduate at the Columbia University School of General Studies. I’ve recently learned that Harvard University, bowing to intense backlash, rescinded its invitation to you to serve as a visiting fellow at the John F. Kennedy School of Government this fall. I’m sorry for the setback. It’s disheartening, frankly, that even Harvard, the juggernaut of the Ivy League, would so swiftly reverse itself at the whim of the United States intelligence community.

It’s been only four months since you became a free woman, finally granted her first chance at life, and the path ahead remains fraught with uncertainty. Pursuing your education is a logical step, but... where? Where on Earth would someone like you, so nontraditional in every respect, possibly fit in? Only you can answer these questions. But, as you contemplate your next move, I’d like to offer a suggestion:

Apply to the Columbia University School of General Studies.

GS, as we call it, is Columbia’s undergraduate school for nontraditional students. Applicants are required to have had “a break of a year or more” in their education, which means nobody at GS arrives here via a traditional path. Most of us are older than our peers at Columbia College—I’ll be 31 in October—and each student brings her own experiences to the community. My GS classmates include former ballet dancers, professional chefs, human rights activists, mothers and fathers, former college dropouts, and a great number of veterans and former service members. It’s a community of second chances, of brilliant people who are well aware of their fortune in being here, and I think you’d fit in well.

Let’s be clear: GS is not a night school. We take the same courses, are taught by the same faculty, and complete the same degrees as our younger peers. We are fully integrated into our University’s academic life. And here’s a bonus: Since most of us can drink legally, a lot of official GS off-campus events serve alcohol. Score.

Of course, this invitation does not come without risk. Opinions of you vary widely at GS. To my queer friends and classmates, you’re a hero, a flesh-and-blood Superwoman whose story refutes all doubt that history’s long arc bends towards justice. To other friends, some of whom served in the Armed Forces, you are a national shame, a traitor to your cause and your country, a person—a man, some insist—who escaped a well-deserved punishment for endangering the lives of his fellow soldiers.

I cannot speak for all my classmates at GS, and my invitation is not on their behalf. Please understand this, and please recognize that GS is home to a proud contingent of former service members, and some of them, perhaps along with a sizable portion of Columbia’s student body, simply may not want you here. These people are my peers, and I will make no effort to silence them. They will make their voices heard.

Of course, you’ll have many, many allies at Columbia University, myself among them, and we will have your back. In defense of your womanhood, we will be loud. In defense of your LGBTQ advocacy, we will be uncompromising. And Columbia—New York in general, really—is quite welcoming of queerness of all shapes. You will not be alone.

But our voices cannot overpower the narratives that shape your public identity. No matter where your new life takes you, you will meet well-informed, well-meaning people who will judge your past actions as treasonous. Your allies cannot shield you from rational dissent.

One more thing. Besides the challenge posed by varying opinions within the GS community, it’s worth noting the intense controversy that would arise from your applying to Columbia. Your admittance—or rejection, for that matter—would be judged by the media as political, no matter how fair and ethical the conduct of the Undergraduate Admissions Recruitment Committee. If admitted, your matriculation would be international news—President Trump may even tweet on the matter. You’d be a student celebrity upon arrival, which could pose security concerns for our campus. Upon graduation, your name would forever be listed among Columbia’s most famous and controversial alumni. The Office of Undergraduate Admissions and other administrators will have to consider all of this should you choose to apply to GS. The University’s reputation will be on the line.

These are the undeniable truths of your situation. But so what? The challenges in your future are unavoidable, just as your past actions are unchangeable. You know this better than most. And whatever the challenges you’d face at GS or anywhere else, I believe your presence would be an asset to any community fortunate enough to have you.

In your petition for commutation, you spoke of your desire to become the person you never had a chance to be. “I am not Bradley Manning,” you wrote. “I really never was. I am Chelsea Manning, a proud woman who is transgender and who, through this application, is respectfully requesting a first chance at life.”

Your commutation granted, you now walk free, blessed with the gift of a future that is in your hands. This first chance at life is your opportunity to polish the self you have fought to become. To be successful, you’ll need a place to grow and a community to call your own. You’ll need to find your way into environments that challenge you, humble you, and serve as a springboard to the greatest possible version of yourself. I believe GS is a place where you could do all that and more.

With enthusiasm and humility, I invite you to apply.

Warmly,

Johnathan Fuentes

Columbia University School of General Studies

Johnathan Fuentes is an undergraduate at the School of General Studies. When he is not stirring controversy on the Internet, he can be found on his couch, playing Kerbal Space Program. Find Johnathan on twitter at @JohnathanAF

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