Nikki: Yeah, so I think the idea of common ground for me has really meant finding my people—my tribe. That’s just who I am. This resonates deeply with me because honestly, I don’t know how to exist without that connection.

And then, my kiddo—he’s been on my mind. He just had a meeting at school where they reviewed his VCAP results—kind of a career aptitude thing—and his top two strengths came back as relationships and something else. I just laughed. I told him, “I don’t need a DNA test to prove you’re mine.” Honestly, the C-section scar is enough proof. (laughs)

But seriously, there are days where this small-town life feels like it closes in on me. Within the small town, there’s also a smaller Indian community. It's actually pretty large for the size of the town, but it’s complicated.

Especially when you have personal experiences—like with my son—where I’ve seen how people respond, it’s been...interesting. Sometimes it’s supportive, and sometimes, well, not so much. Like, something that happened five years ago still gets brought up in judgment. And I’m like, really? That’s your takeaway?

And no, I’m not going to go around sharing every detail. Especially not within the Indian community—it’s hard when people make assumptions or judge based on just a sliver of your story. Same goes for relationships. You wouldn't judge one half of something and ignore the rest, right?

So yeah, I’ve been here ten years now. Five years ago feels like a whole different life. When I moved here, my kids were little—three and six. Now they’re 13 and 16. One turns 17 next week. So a lot has changed.

Because of my interest in mental health, identity, and community, I’ve thought a lot about how we create meaning around those things. I remember doing institutional ethnography with Rachel and others—interviewing community college faculty. And we weren’t supposed to interpret—we just looked at the exact words. The raw data. And you start seeing patterns that are so real and relatable.

Even if I wasn’t surrounded by people who looked like me, I always found those who felt like me. My best friend—who moved away two years ago—we were close for seven years. She was my mom friend, my colleague friend, and losing her was hard.

I have these friend categories: mom friends, colleague friends, high school friends scattered across the U.S. and Canada. I see them at conferences when I travel. They’re still part of my life in different ways.

Nikki: Also, I just walked in from lunch and don’t even have a salad.

Nancy: You're fine! We're not here for salads. (laughs)

Nikki: (laughs) Thank you. But yeah, having lived in so many different spaces—nationally, culturally—and juggling roles as a mother, professor, friend, it’s a lot. Common ground becomes this contextual, evolving thing.

At work, with parenting, with research collaborations—every part of my life feels like a juggling act. And that’s why we’re all exhausted.

Some days I’m like, “I don’t even think I can do today.” Like today—my colleague was covering my lecture. Normally I’d use the time to catch up on other work. But instead, I said, “No, I’m gonna take time for this. I’ll go home, hop on Zoom. My kids are with their dad. I’m doing this.”

That decision—to give myself space—felt radical. Because when the kids are with me, I go into full-on go-go-go mode: cooking, caretaking, coordinating everything. So when they’re not there, it’s like, oh, now I can catch my breath.

And you know what? I love teaching. Every year, my students just blow me away. They come in with fresh perspectives, and I learn something new every semester. It keeps me grounded.

I think I’ve found common ground not in a fixed place, but in the way I connect with people, the way I show up. Doesn’t matter where you’re from—if someone gets you, that’s it. I’ve got friends who feel like sisters—closer than some of my actual family. That kind of connection is what matters.

Last year was so stressful I deleted my Facebook account. Still have Instagram for work stuff and WhatsApp for family, but I needed to protect my energy. The hardest part? Losing some friends. People I never thought would fall away. But they did. That’s part of the light and shadow of finding common ground. You gain some, you lose some.

Note: The transcript above has been condensed from its original audio recording to improve the flow and readability of the story.