It can be hard to admit that you’re a privileged person. Privilege, after all, comes in many forms. Some people have privilege based on how they look. Others enjoy privilege from the family or country they happen to be born into. There is privilege based on gender, sexual orientation, religion, and social class. A person can be privileged in one way and disadvantaged in another. For instance, I myself experience “male privilege” due to my gender, yet my status as a foreigner in ethnically homogeneous South Korea also gives me difficulties that are beyond my control. Privilege also results in a wide range of impacts, from the small everyday niceties that more conventionally attractive people receive, to the significant, systematic legalities that straight people enjoy and queer people still cannot (in most countries). The point, however, is that in many cases, privilege is unearned — it is not something you work for, but rather only a result of your circumstances. That’s why it’s hard to admit that you enjoy certain privileges. No one wants to say they’ve had an “unfair” advantage over others. Nobody wants to believe that their success is due to anything other than their own hard work and talent. We want to earn what we deserve.

“Finish your food,” the Asian mother would say. “There are children starving in Africa!” Not that my own mother has ever said these exact words to me, but I feel that many of us have received a similar sentiment from our parents at some point during our childhoods. Perhaps it’s also a common experience to have wondered, “Even if I didn’t leave a single grain of rice on my plate, how is that going to help those poor children on the other side of the world?” The answer, of course, is that it won’t. How much food you eat only affects you; those poor children will still be hungry regardless. Why, then, do our parents tell us this? To make us guilty about wasting food, perhaps? I’ve pondered this myself and come to realize: it’s about recognizing your privilege. It’s about being grateful for what you have, since there are others who do not enjoy the same privileges. And most importantly, it’s about understanding that the privilege you enjoy is not something you’ve earned. Just because you have food on your plate doesn’t mean you deserve it more than those who don’t.

Studying at KAIST — or the opportunity to receive a university education in general — is a privilege. I know, it sometimes doesn’t feel that way. Those countless sleepless nights, eating nothing but instant ramyeon, sacrificing our mental well-being, all for a piece of paper that could never fully encapsulate how much effort it took to earn it. Besides, we’ve worked hard for the chance to be here, and continue to work hard to be able to leave with flying colors. It’s something we’ve earned, right? Something we deserve for our efforts — but is it, though? Sure, there must be a reason why we were accepted and why we remain here. Yet, is it truly that everybody at KAIST deserves to be here more than everybody else who isn’t here? Or can we acknowledge that there is a certain element of luck, of circumstance, and of privilege that we happen to be here over others?

Education remains a privilege. It should be a right — wouldn’t the world be a better place if everyone had access to the quality education we receive here at KAIST? — but the reality is that it isn’t, not yet. We find ourselves enjoying this privilege. Yes, it comes with its challenges; privilege can protect you from problems, but it doesn’t make you immune from all hardship. In fact, it opens you up to new kinds of problems — what some often dismiss as “first-world problems” but should not be invalidated. Recognizing your privilege does not mean you’ve had it completely easy; it simply means you’ve had more opportunities for success. Privilege is not something to feel guilty about, but it is something to be grateful for. Most importantly, that gratitude must come with responsibility. The best way to use your privilege is to help those who have none — those who deserve the same opportunities as you but never got that chance.

This is my last semester at KAIST, and studying here has been the greatest privilege of my life. It is like the food on my plate; though everyone deserves it, I happen to be one of the lucky few who receive it. I am grateful for it, and for everyone who helped me along the way. But now that I’m almost done, it’s time to pay all that back and to pass it forward — to ensure that we the lucky few do not remain so few — not as a choice, but as a responsibility.