For six decades Glamour has honored trailblazing women through our annual college competition (Martha Stewart won in 1961!). The competition has evolved with the times—shifting from "The 10 Best-Dressed College Girls in America" when it first started in 1957, for example, to "Top Ten College Women" in 1978—but its mission has remained constant: to spotlight dynamos and glass-ceiling breakers at schools across the country. Now we're proud to present this year’s superstars, your College Women of the Year. They’ll introduce themselves.
As editor-in-chief of my student newspaper, I’m chasing down stories on refugees and drug use in Kentucky. Did I ever think my school would sue our paper over a story? No, but they did last year, when we investigated allegations that a professor had sexually assaulted two female students and then was allowed to resign quietly, paycheck intact. When University of Kentucky officials refused to hand over their documents to us, we appealed to the Kentucky attorney general, who decided in our favor. The university appealed, arguing that giving us the file would put students’ privacy at risk, but I thought: What about justice?
That judge ruled for UK, but we’re appealing again. We also obtained a redacted version of the university’s file from a confidential source. My paper published a story exposing more details of the case—that five students had alleged being touched by this professor; three of them never pursued official complaints. Our story will help ensure the professor’s record is in the open to any prospective employer. Also, we’ve filed open-records requests at eight public universities in Kentucky. Sometimes I get nervous about what we’ve taken on, but then I’ll get grateful emails from survivors. When you’re on the front lines, you can’t run away. —Kirk, a print journalism and international studies major, received an award from the Scripps Howard First Amendment Center at UK for excellence in journalism. She hopes to be a foreign correspondent in the Middle East.
I’m from Malawi, where I spent hours reading in the library with my girlfriends; we all had big dreams. I was fortunate—I won a scholarship to go to high school in South Africa—but one of those friends was forced to leave school and get married. Her story haunted me, so at age 18 I launched Tiwale; its name means “Let us shine” in Chichewa. We help women get training and microloans to become entrepreneurs; 150 women showed up at the first meeting! I ran the program for two summers and then came to America for college. Now I have a staff of 12 here and on the ground. We’ve helped 40 women start their own business, and more than 60 others have learned to tie-dye and sew. Today our tapestries and totes sell around the world. Our latest project is to finish building a center to support 200 Malawian women.
When I’m overwhelmed, I think of Lucy, a mother who escaped an abusive husband and set up a new home with a mud floor and tires as furniture. Now she’s a tie-dye trainer, with her own couches and a house with a cement floor. That’s what I want most: to help these women chase their dreams. —Chilemba, an economics major, was one of Forbes Africa’s 30 Under 30 for 2015. Bono gave her his 2016 We Are Family Foundation Humanitarian Award, and she was a youth panelist at the 2015 United Nations General Assembly.
When a girl in my Oakland high school left and never came back, kids said, “Her boyfriend’s pimping her out.” That troubled me, and after doing some research, I was shocked to learn that Oakland is home to a thriving underage sex market. This wasn’t about “pimps” and “prostitutes”; this was exploitation. At age 16 I rode along in an unmarked car with a cop on patrol down one of Oakland’s most dangerous streets. I borrowed a video camera from school and saw the problem through a new lens: There were girls on the street with no choice, and it worried me to think about what might be happening behind closed doors.
My five-minute documentary, International Boulevard, was featured at the Los Angeles Film Festival’s Future Filmmakers Showcase and screened in Bay Area high schools. Now I’m making a feature film, Crystal’s Walk, with the perspectives of sex workers and former pimps. I make these films because I love Oakland, and I want the best for my city. I don’t want these stories to be ignored. —Dharmapalan, a sociology major, won the Girls Impact the World Film Festival, and her film was screened at the Los Angeles Jewish Film Festival. She’s executive producer of ONX, a creative agency to promote artists of color, and hopes to become a lawyer supporting marginalized communities.
On December 14, 2012, my mom was at Sandy Hook Elementary School, hiding with her students while a shooter killed 26 children and educators. She and her class, thankfully, survived. A month later I met families at a march in Washington, D.C., who’d lost loved ones at other shootings, and I realized: This is bigger than Newtown. I had to do something. With classmates I started the Jr. Newtown Action Alliance to work on gun reform. We wrote letters, called officials, and lobbied Congress for background checks. I connected with Ronnie Mosley, a young man from Chicago who lost a friend to gun violence, and with Generation Progress, we started #Fight4AFuture Network, an activist group that now has more than 3,000 advocates, including some from my new organization, Georgetown Against Gun Violence.
I want to continue organizing and to work with nonprofits, think tanks, and advocacy groups. I’ve met other leaders in the fight, like Amy Schumer and Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi, so I know I’m not alone. Our voices are important. On both sides we have similar values: to keep our families safe. I want us all to work together. —Clements, a government and justice and peace-studies major, was a 2014 White House Champions of Change honoree. She is a Truman Scholar finalist for 2017.
Maredia and Jin became best friends while planning to attend a One Direction concert together one summer. Now they run a serious business from their respective schools. They’re the first pair of friends to win this award.
Nishiki: We were at different colleges but both dealing with anxiety and depression two years ago.
Angela: To cope, we threw ourselves into a passion project. I said, “Let’s launch a T-shirt company and make 1D tees.” My parents loaned us $2,000 to print our first shirts, and we named our company after the number of miles between us—1950 Collective.
Nishiki: The distance was hard; we’d fight, we’d make up, but we’re friends first. That first year we’d pack orders in our dorms!
Angela: I’m a graphic designer, and I mock up our stuff.
Nishiki: And I secure manufacturers and partners.
Angela: Along with Harry Styles tees, our best sellers feature feminist slogans like “Favorite Position: CEO.” We wanted to say, “You can like boy bands and be a feminist.” We have more than 70,000 followers and 10,000-plus app downloads. Oh, and we paid my parents back; we’ve made more than $275,000 in revenue!
Nishiki: We donate 10 percent of monthly profits to causes from mental health to refugee relief. We also give subscribers advice on building their own start-ups.
Angela: 1950 has made us stronger. People say, “You make band tees. That won’t last.” But we’re two Asian women breaking the mold of white guys with business ideas, and we want girls to take up the space they deserve.
Nishiki: We want to keep growing our business and start other companies that represent minority groups.
Angela: Our motto: Cut out the people who don’t support you. Take care of yourself and each other. —Jin, a marketing major, is the Carroll School of Management Honors Program president at Boston College. Maredia, a history major, is a recipient of her college yearbook’s Cactus Standout Award.
In third grade I told my class I was a girl, and my teacher told my parents, who sent me to therapy. I couldn’t use the bathroom at school, and some kids and teachers taunted me—I’m from a rural, conservative California town. I became very withdrawn. My parents became more accepting by the time I was in middle school, but I was still bullied, and there were no organizations to turn to. So at 16 I founded Trans Student Educational Resources, the only national organization led by trans youth. In our first year we helped institute trans-student policies at 24 schools throughout the U.S., including all the schools I had attended, addressing pronouns, bathroom usage, and equal opportunities on sports teams. Since then we’ve distributed resources such as model policies and know-your-rights guidelines to more than 300 schools, and we host an annual summit for trans youth activists.
Next up: ensuring inclusive admissions policies at more women’s colleges. I hope to become a gender-studies professor and keep working and fighting for trans issues on campuses. I want trans people to be free to be who we are. —Erlick, a feminist-, gender-, and sexuality-studies major, is a national advisory council member for GLSEN, which works to create LGBTQ-inclusive schools.
At four I joined the family business: basketball. My mom and sister played in college, and my dad coaches. At 15 I was recruited and got to play for Team Canada. But I always admired Maya Moore, UConn’s iconic forward, and thought, I want to play for that team too. My dream came true. As this magazine went to press, we were on a 111-game winning streak and eying our fifth consecutive NCAA championship, my third with the team. HBO even followed our season this year!
My goal is to take home a gold medal at the Olympics and play for the WNBA, but I’m more than awards or numbers on a stat sheet. I play with kids at clinics once a month and love hearing how basketball has changed their lives. I want young female athletes to defy the odds and be fearless. —Nurse, a sport and media major, won a gold medal at the 2015 Pan American Games and competed in the 2016 Summer Olympics on Team Canada. She was named the AAC’s 2016 Preseason Player of the Year.
Growing up in the Baltimore neighborhood of Curtis Bay, I never thought twice about the plumes billowing out of smokestacks. Pollution is normal here, and by high school I could list people I knew who’d died from lung cancer or who have asthma (including my mom). At 17 I started a group with 10 classmates called Free Your Voice to organize around human rights issues. Meanwhile, less than a mile away from our school, the largest trash-burning incinerator and power plant in the U.S. was slated for construction.
Officials said the project was “green” and would create jobs. But the incinerator would burn 4,000 tons of trash a day, releasing hundreds of pounds of mercury and lead each year! So our group started knocking on doors, and we grew to a hundreds-strong movement. Eventually 22 groups cut their contracts with the project, and after we lobbied the Maryland Department of the Environment, they essentially halted the project.
Now we hope to turn the 90-acre lot into a community-owned development that doesn’t put our lives at risk. No one deserves to have their life cut short because of where they were born. —Watford, an English and public relations major, is the 2016 North American winner of the Goldman Environmental Prize. She was named a 2016 Next Generation Leader by Time. She hopes to be a community organizer to help people fight for social justice.
My dad’s a chemist, and my mom’s a chemical engineer, so my sister and I spent a lot of time doing experiments at home. For the last eight years I’ve given up weekends and breaks to work on my project: the Celloidosome, a living container made of cells that has a variety of medical uses. It’s smaller than a strand of hair, but because the material is alive, it could be a revolutionary way to deliver drugs to the body, treat diseases, or repair organs. My current research shows it might even be able to repair connections in the brain.
Long term, I’d like to pursue a Ph.D. in neuroscience and help people through research on memory and psychological disorders. But next I’m working toward FDA approval of the Celloidosome so I can bring it to market. What keeps me in the lab? I also want to inspire young Latina scientists to say, “I can do this too.” —Marquez, a psychology major with a neuroscience focus, was a two-time first-place winner in her category at the Intel International Science and Engineering Fair and a 2013 Davidson Fellows Laureate.
Photos: Jin and Maredia: 1950 Collective; Watford: Sam Kittner for the Goldman Environmental Prize; Dharmapalan: Deva Rani; All other CWOTY Winner Photos by Joel Barhamand
