For the most part, I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago, but from kindergarten to second grade, I lived in a rural area outside Nashville, where our Mexican-Italian family looked different than everyone else. That’s when I first faced adversity, and I became a scrappy kid. My family nicknamed me ‘Mr. Daily’ because I would get in trouble every day. Being the middle child of a family with five kids also contributed to that.

When we moved back to Chicago, I’ll never forget my first day of third grade. I had returned to the same diverse area where I was born, but now I was a tan, brown kid with a country accent, and I got jumped by a group of kids after school. Rather than run away to my grandmother’s car, I stood my ground, face to face with the kid taunting me. I was scared but I knew I had to defend myself, so I went after him and the rest of the kids jumped in. A few awful minutes later, I met up with my grandmother, crying. She picked me up, dusted me off, and the next day, I became friends with the kid I had just fought.

What I learned about human nature is: when you actually get to know people and see who they are, then you end up building genuine bonds and making real friends.

Despite being comfortable with who I am, it hasn’t always been easy for me to open up to people.

If I’m honest, this was partly because I still questioned if I belonged there. I felt lucky to have gotten a scholarship to SLU and into the rotation program at Boeing, but I kept questioning, ‘When are people going to find me out?’ I was literally working with rocket scientists. To this day, that still blows my mind. I had major imposter syndrome.

But I made a conscious effort to be myself, be genuine. I believe it helped set me apart from my peers and generate meaningful relationships.

Fast forward to more than six years later, and there is no imposter syndrome. I know what I bring to the table, and I’m not shy at all.

Part of this stems from becoming a father. It was the final piece for me: I can be authentic, put myself out there, and I no longer care if everyone likes me. My purpose has dramatically changed and it’s been liberating.”

—Nico Berrini

My case was different. I come from a very women-focused community and we have this belief that when you educate a son, he will bring financial stability to your home, and when you educate a daughter, she’ll educate the whole family. She will empower her kids.

My dad was very persistent that I get a good education. When I was 12, we traveled to Boston to visit Harvard University. He told me, ‘You have to study at an Ivy League school.’ He even wrote an email to a Harvard alum saying, ‘My daughter is 12, my son is 7. How do we get into an Ivy League school?’

For my undergrad, I was in a UK-based program that allowed me to study in Mumbai, and I earned bachelor’s in economics in three years, but the plan was always to go abroad for my master’s. By then, my dad wasn’t pressuring me on which school to attend, but I knew what he wished for.

I wanted to study business analytics and applied to a bunch of schools, but only two #IvyLeague schools taught it, and only Columbia University in the City of New York taught it fully on campus. I applied there and became one of the youngest students in my class. I walked into campus when I wasn’t even 21 and graduated with my master’s degree last year.”

—Inaara Kheraj