After sharing a quick embrace with the chapel-giver, I squeezed myself onto a bench in the friend section, waiting for Olamide Oladitan ’24 to begin. However, instead of the usual fade-out of music that most choose to begin their chapels with, Ola continued playing “Dawn in the Adan” by Ichiko Aoba as the backdrop for his voice. I leaned in, immediately intrigued.
The first section of Ola’s chapel was all about love—or, more specifically, about how he expressed his love. He said, “My only way of keeping a hold on whatever string of reality I could keep was to love like the world was gonna end.” In a world where it is easier to isolate one’s feelings in an effort of protection, Ola spoke of how he unapologetically gave himself, and his absolute love, to those around him. His message was earnest and heartfelt; it urged me to reflect on how I bring love into this world and how said love can create such ripples.
Ola continued his chapel with a recognition of his identity: he asserted that the multiple aspects of his identity did not invalidate one another. “My visible joy and failure to keep my curiosities to myself does not make me white,” he said. He elaborated on his identity by speaking about his home, describing New York as a place full of contradiction and belonging. Ola said, “I love New York, the place where I look down the barrel of that gun and ask the question, why does my success anger you so?” His pride in being himself was evident and empowering; I felt an understanding stir in his words.
However, one of the most memorable parts of the chapel was his next section about tributes. Ola turned to a discussion of his fear of vulnerabilities and a tendency to hide the more emotional side of himself under smiles. He spoke on his grandfather’s passing and the loss he felt, along with efforts to hide away from it. With this, Ola shared his struggle with not only grief but with endings. He said, “I will forever and ever be the denier of the future, dwelling in the revels of my present.” At the same time, though, Ola took the step forward, realizing that he must write tributes at some point or another—and his first was to his grandfather: “I dedicate my name to you.”
As well-written as the text may be, I think Ola’s chapel was so memorable not only because of its deliberate and enchanting prose but also because of the chapel’s element, which was full of life. From the humorous “thank-you” section to the swear bombs and the dramatic speech-giving style, it was all so unapologetically and genuinely representative of him. Ola spoke from his heart and dug deep. He discussed his fear of self-reflection, yet he managed to explore and embrace his experiences beautifully, jam-packing an entire, elaborate life into 15 minutes.
Throughout his chapel, Ola repeated his full name nineteen times. Within a discussion of various lessons and identities, he used this repetition to tie it all back down to the most obvious form of himself. Thus, Ola decided to finish off fittingly. Instead of the typical “that was my chapel” tagline, he dedicated his words—his tribute—to himself. He concluded, “My name is Olamide Oladitan, and that was for me.”