The Shapes That Light Can Make

At the NAFSA 2025 Annual Conference & Expo in San Diego earlier this year, NAFSA Executive Director and CEO Fanta Aw reminded us that "when the roots are deep, there is no reason to fear the wind." Those words have stayed with me since, reflecting what I learned during one of the most challenging moments of this past year.

When news broke in the spring about widespread student visa revocations—imperiling the futures of students who were building their lives here in the United States—international educators suddenly found ourselves facing an unprecedented situation with no clear road map or solution.

In that moment, concerns about the consequences of the U.S. presidential election ceased to be abstract; the uncertainty materialized into tormented faces, decreasing visa numbers, and a few words on the top right corner of SEVIS profiles.

Finding Solid Ground Amid Uncertainty

In the first few days after we became aware of the visa revocations, the office felt heavy—not only with anxiety, but with responsibility. We could barely get through a conversation without feeling the knot in our throats tighten, and yet we had to be resolute in providing services to those who relied on us.

Our students turned to us for guidance, and even as we tried to absorb every new update and policy memo, we had to be their steady ground. With every new strategy, a roadblock. With every new pathway, a setback. Every phone call, every email, every in-person meeting carried the same unspoken questions: "What happens to me now?" "Am I safe here?"

Even when the answers weren't clear, we knew our response had to be grounded in something deeper than procedure. For me, that grounding came from a quote I've held close for years—Adam Gopnik's reminder that "shadows are all we have to show us the shapes that light can make."

The winds of change do not always propel our sails, and the arc of justice may not always bend in the direction we think it should. And yet through abrupt redirections, we are expected to remain upright and to push forth forcefully and fearlessly.

So, we carry on. But how? What if I cannot see the light in the shadows? What if my students and staff cannot see it? In these difficult times, I'm reminded that questions lead to learning, action, and growth.

Connection as Compass

My team began connecting with attorneys and members of the international education community—and we joined the larger California State University (CSU) community in reinforcing that our students were not alone. We all agree that students not only anchor us to this field but also provide the energy that sustains it.

Fortunately, the visibility of international students increased in the media, sparking a response from the campus community and the general public. Friends began checking in on me, as I checked in on others. My team worked with colleagues in counseling services and public safety to ensure students had the support they needed—and in turn, those colleagues checked in on us too.

Sometimes, all we need to move forward is a friendly smile and acknowledgment that our struggle is seen. Challenges like these remind us of students' full humanity—and of our own—and it's that humanity that carries us through these trying times.

A Lesson in What Resilience Means

Once the government changed course and we could finally provide our affected students with some relief, seeing the change in their demeanors and their renewed hope was liberating and grounding.

Even as the pressure eased, the sense that new change or crises could unfold at any moment has stayed with us. But now we know that when the wind picks up, we are ready. When you find out what you cannot do, you also learn not only what you can do, but also what you ought to do.

Our response to the visa revocations reminded me that resilience doesn't mean we stand unchanging; it means we persist and adapt. We learn to bend, absorb, and grow. We steady and ground ourselves in the knowledge that our work has always been about people, not policies.

The Values That Sustain Us

I've come to understand that what sustains me in this field isn't just professional; it's deeply human. What carried us through this crisis wasn't the policies, press releases, or sudden government reversals.

It was the moments of community, the small victories of each student who could finally exhale in relief, and the teams that refused to let fear dictate their actions. It was the compassion of colleagues who stepped in without being asked, the faith of students who kept showing up despite uncertainty, and the quiet conviction that what we do matters, even when it feels like we're shouting into the wind.

This challenging time reminded me that light doesn't usually break through the darkness; more often, it emerges quietly, a subtle glimmer amid the shadows. The quote I held onto during those long days—"Shadows are all we have to show us the shapes that light can make," —is displayed at the top of my office's whiteboard and took on new meaning for me as I watched it come to life in real time.

Moving Forward with Courage and Compassion

As educators, we often speak about advocating for our students and our field as an act of service, but I've learned it is also an act of persistence, a way of staying rooted in our values when the ground breaks apart beneath our feet.

The visa revocations became a test not only of our knowledge but also of our endurance. I feel certain that we will continue to face struggles and uncertainty with fearless and ardent compassion.

I carry that lesson with me now: Our greatest impact is rarely loud or visible. It lives in the steady rhythm of showing up, of choosing to hold space for others, and of believing that even in the darkest seasons, light can still take shape. •

Isaac Morales, a 2025–26 NAFSA RISE Fellow, is associate director of international student and scholar services at California State University-San Bernardino.