Cloister and Catalyst
When I arrived at Mills College as an undergraduate, I stepped into an environment unlike any I had ever known—a place of grace, creativity, and possibility. I remember the natural beauty, the personal engagement in every classroom, and the sense that we were being invited not just to learn, but to grow and become.
For one critical moment, before stepping fully into the world, Mills offered us a glimpse of something rare: a more idealistic world, one envisioned largely by women. It was a cloister in the best sense—protective, but dynamically alive. It nurtured intellectual growth while allowing students to create, stumble, and understand. It gave us space to imagine what leadership, learning, and community could look like when rooted in care and creativity.
In my senior year, when the 1990 Strike galvanized students to rise against a decision to dismantle what made Mills singular, I saw that conviction turn into action. Students blockaded buildings and reclaimed space. And we showed the world what it means when students believe transformation is possible. That moment—both personal and collective—helped shape my life.
I came to Mills as a first-generation college student and first-generation American, the child of a working single mother. I didn’t have a roadmap—just a deep desire to understand. Mills opened the door to a world of integrated inquiry, where science met art, and intellect met ethics, and social responsibility wasn’t extracurricular—it was essential.
Mills gave me a lens for living—a way to see the world that made room for complexity, contradiction, and curiosity. Before I knew what the liberal arts truly meant, I was living them: asking questions without simple answers, pursuing meaning across disciplines, and wondering how my story fit into the wider arc of justice and change.
My career has taken me across sectors—art direction and animation to military service, research, and writing. What ties them together is the Mills experience: a liberal arts foundation that encouraged exploration, resilience, and meaningful work. It prepared us to think across disciplines, follow curiosity, and adapt with purpose. In a world where roles and industries are constantly shifting, that kind of education isn’t just relevant—it’s transformative.
I stepped into this role not just to preserve what Mills has been, and what the AAMC has supported since 1879, but to help shape what its legacy can become.
In August, I had the honor of leading our Board through a two-day retreat that marked a turning point. Together, we unanimously adopted a new mission and vision for the AAMC—one that reflects our shared values and charts a bold course forward. It was the result of months of listening, research, and courageous conversation. And it signals that we are ready to lead with clarity, purpose, and unity.
I’m proud of our Board—new and returning members alike—for their dedication and insight. They are not just stewards of our past; they are architects of our future. Together, we are building the foundation for a focused, professional, mission-driven nonprofit.
We will honor what was—and dare to imagine what can be. And we will invite alumnae across generations and disciplines to co-create this next chapter with us.
Before the merger, I often heard that Mills needed to change, to be more like the world. But I still believe the world needs to be more like Mills—a place where intellect meets empathy, and creativity is celebrated. At its core, leadership is rooted in ethics and inclusion.
That ideal won’t die. It is deeply needed—and we are committed to carrying it forward.
As we build a nonprofit rooted in Mills’ values, we welcome collaboration and partnership with all who share our vision for a more just and inspired world.
Warmly,
Kieran Turan, Class of 1990
President, Alumnae Association of Mills College