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A letter to ACEP: My reflections in a turbulent time

Dear ACEP,

I want to take a moment to express my appreciation for each of you at ACEP in ways that perhaps many of you will never fully understand.

Since I was a small child, I’ve always wanted to be a scientist. It might sound like a simple childhood dream — like becoming a firefighter or a police officer.

But for me, it was something more. I grew up in a tumultuous household. My father passed away when I was very young, and my mother struggled to cope with the loss. I don’t have memories of him or his life, but I do know that after his passing, my home became confusing, loud and overwhelming. My siblings and I made it through, but not unscathed.

Science became my refuge. It allowed me to break the world down into components, into bits and pieces that made sense. It was my way of bringing order to chaos.

Of course, as many of you know, science doesn’t always do that. It’s full of uncertainties and gray areas. But as a child, I believed that science explained everything — that there was always an answer. And for someone who had no control over life’s constant upheavals, that was a comforting thought.

Now I understand that science isn’t what I once thought it was.

Yes, it has rules and near certainties. But so much of the world — down to its fundamental elements and the complexity of human life — is uncertain. And right now, both the university and this country are facing that uncertainty. I know there are no easy answers in times like these.

I don’t know if I was a DEI hire, and honestly, I don’t care if I was. Maybe my pride would take a hit if that were the case, but I’d also feel lucky — because I get to work alongside scientists and researchers whose work has the potential to influence world leaders and shape the future. That is something young me never could have dreamed of.

When I was younger, I just wanted to make things that people could use. Things that made their lives a little easier. And if I dreamed really big, maybe even things that could change the world.

But life has a way of wrestling those dreams away from you. The experiences you have, the places you go, and the people you interact with — especially when they are the near opposite of who you are at your core — can strip you of your sense of self. You stop believing.

When I applied to ACEP, I didn’t think I’d get the job. As some of you know, I have a degree in process technology and I thought I’d end up working on the North Slope or in one of ��򽴫ý’s oil fields. I tried a couple of internships, but something always felt off. The work itself wasn’t the issue. It was a sense of disappointment and sadness I couldn’t quite understand.

For years, I had a career that made me feel like I was living as two different people. A career that forced me to change who I was to be successful. One that often felt like it went against my core beliefs. Eventually, I reached a point where I couldn’t do it anymore. In my mind, I was doing more harm than good. And I didn’t want to be part of that anymore.

When I first started at the university, I worked at the power plant. I wanted to contribute to society by helping generate power for people’s homes and lives, by doing something meaningful, something that helped rather than harmed. But my time there left me feeling disheartened.

I began to wonder if I was too broken to be anything more than what I had already been. That maybe the only thing I could contribute was more of the same. I had no dreams, no hopes — just a vague desire to be part of something positive. But even that, I couldn’t seem to muster the strength for.

So, when I applied to ACEP, I was just looking for something that didn’t make me feel useless. Something that didn’t make me feel like I was contributing to a problem. And honestly, I didn’t expect anything different.

Recently, I was talking to someone about what I thought of the people at ACEP, and, true to my usual, slightly complaint-riddled style, I compared you all to a bunch of highly intelligent cats.

I don’t know if that’s offensive, but I promise it wasn’t meant to be. It’s just the truth. I have a love/hate relationship with my own cats at home. They are fierce, independent, clever and dumb — all in the same breath. But they are also self-assured, focused and strong. They might seem like sleepy, friendly creatures — until you try to pet them when they’re not in the mood, and they attempt to scratch your eyes out.

I know that everyone here is probably smarter than me — academically, at least. Not just by a little, but by a lot. But beyond intelligence, you are good people trying to do good work within the framework that allows you to do it. And I know that the recent changes in this administration — particularly to DEI and other critical areas of research — hurt you. That they make it harder for you to do the work you care about.

I know this because ACEP has given that back to me — a sense of mattering and being part of something bigger.

It has helped me let go of shame, doubt and self-loathing. It has rekindled my hope and my dreams.

I know that the challenges ahead may seem overwhelming, that the changes coming might feel like an insurmountable wall. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from being here, it’s that resilience, determination and belief in something greater than ourselves is what make this place — and the people in it — so powerful.

You are not just fighting for your own work, your own research or your own passions. You are holding the line for those who will come after you, for those who need hope the most. Even when the road is uncertain, even when it feels like no one is listening, you are making a difference.

Keep pushing forward. Keep believing in a better tomorrow. And above all, be strong for each other. Because what you are doing matters, and the world needs people like you to keep going.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

Wenceslao Ruiz
Design Lab manager
UAF engineering student