As I was flying home to Minnesota after NAFSA, somewhere over Utah, I looked up from my notes and saw the story being told for me.
The woman sitting next to me was watching Fox News on her seatback screen. The segment? The Trump administration’s crackdown on Chinese students titled “Chinese Student Status in Spotlight Amid Tensions.” No student voice. No context. Just vague warnings wrapped in patriotic graphics and ominous tone.
A day earlier, I had been surrounded by 8,000 international educators – people committed to building bridges across cultures, fostering learning, and advancing a globally connected future.
And here I was, watching one of those bridges being quietly dismantled in front of a national audience – 39,000 feet above the ground.
That moment said everything.
Because while we were high-fiving and session-hopping at NAFSA, the American narrative around international students was being reshaped – without us.
(Ironically, the woman didn’t know how to operate her tv and asked me, an immigrant and a former international student, for help several times. Imagine that)
Americans Love the World. They Just Don’t See It.
We binge K-dramas. We eat sushi on Wednesdays and pad thai on Sundays. Our phones are designed in California but powered by engineers in Bengaluru and Zhengzhou. From our medicine cabinets to our playlists, our daily lives are powered by a quiet, constant global current.
But ask the average American what international education has to do with any of that – and you’ll likely get a blank stare.
That’s not entirely their fault.
Because while international students help drive research, innovation, entrepreneurship, and cultural exchange, we’ve done a poor job making that story visible beyond our own circles. Most Americans don’t know what international education is, let alone why it matters. And we, the stewards of this ecosystem, haven’t told them.
And international educators bear the brunt of that contradiction. While we celebrate global engagement abroad, we’ve failed to connect the dots at home. We haven’t shown how the international students on our campuses contribute to breakthroughs in cancer research, launch companies that create jobs, or shape the global flavors in our local neighborhoods. We talk among ourselves – in panels, in policy briefs, in annual conferences – but we don’t educate the public. We don’t help Americans see that international students aren’t just here to learn – they’re here to contribute. And that their presence isn’t a favor we do for them – it’s a force multiplier for our economy, our culture, and our communities.
A Tree Fell In A Forest
A week ago, over 8,000 international educators from over 100 countries gathered in San Diego for the largest convening of our profession. The expo hall was full. The sessions were lively. The receptions were buzzing.
Laughter. Hugs. High Fives.
But outside that bubble? Silence.
Not a headline. Not a feature. Not even a curious tweet from a mainstream outlet.
Did we even happen?
It felt, quite literally, like a tree fell in a forest – and no one was around to hear it.
We keep telling each other how vital we are – how international students bring global perspectives into small-town classrooms, help fund essential academic programs through out-of-state tuition, and often stay to launch startups, teach in schools, or practice medicine in underserved communities. And yet, outside our own echo chamber, the American public remains largely unaware, if not outright skeptical, of what we do and why it matters.
It’s time to stop mistaking internal validation for impact.
Our Advocacy Problem
Let’s be blunt: Our advocacy efforts are too polite, too insular, and too reactive.
We write letters. We circulate statements. We email our members of Congress. But we don’t capture imaginations. We don’t shift narratives. We don’t play offense.
In a world where perception is often louder than policy, this is a dangerous omission. The immigration debate rages on TV screens and kitchen tables across America, but the international education community isn’t even in the frame.
At NAFSA, we had 8,000 voices – but not a single one amplified in the national media.
How are we this disconnected?
A National Wake-Up Call
This isn’t just about visas or enrollments. It’s about the soul of who we are and who we want to be.
Do we want to be a country that opens its doors to the world – or one that locks them?
Do we want to lead globally – or retreat inward?
Do we want international students to feel seen, valued, and wanted – or merely tolerated until they graduate and leave?
If we truly believe in the value of global education, we must act like it. Not just behind closed doors, but in public squares.
What We Must Do – Together
Here’s a blueprint to begin:
1. Build a Public Campaign
We need a national, multimedia campaign to educate the American public about international education’s human AND economic value. Think Got Milk?, but for global learning. Highlight student stories. Showcase community impact. Air it on planes, buses, and social feeds. Let the face of international education be the students, not the administrators.
2. Invest in Narrative Strategy
Hire storytellers, not just policy wonks. Our field is rich with compelling stories – first-generation students becoming doctors, students rebuilding war-torn countries with American degrees, cross-cultural friendships changing lives. We need to professionalize how these stories are curated and disseminated.
3. Get Out of Our Conferences and Into the Press
Every major gathering – from NAFSA to AIEA, AIRC to APLU – should come with a robust media strategy. Press briefings. Op-eds. Editorial board meetings. If 8,000 people gather and no one hears it, did it matter?
4. Create a Central Advocacy Coalition
Let’s stop duplicating efforts across dozens of associations and start pooling our resources. Imagine a standing national coalition – funded by universities, powered by students, backed by industry partners – that advocates year-round in schools, town halls, and newsrooms.
5. Empower Students as Advocates
The most compelling messengers are not us – they’re the students we serve. Train them. Fund them. Give them platforms. Let them speak in classrooms, at school board meetings, on TikTok, and on Capitol Hill.
6. Go Local to Win National
Change doesn’t begin in Washington – it starts in Wichita. Focus on local communities, school districts, chambers of commerce. Show how international students fuel local economies, enrich classrooms, and create jobs. National change follows local understanding.
We are not powerless. We are just quiet.
And in the absence of our voice, others will fill the void – with fear, with misinformation, and with division.
Let this be the moment we find our volume.
– Not just to advocate, but to inspire.
– Not just to defend, but to reimagine.
– Not just to survive, but to change the world.
We owe it to the students who still believe in us. And to a country that desperately needs to remember the power of welcoming the world.
Ex Cogitatione, Progressus.
Girish
