Whenever I meet anyone over the age of thirty-five, I’m filled with this unavoidable dread. Sometimes, I get so anxious for no reason, and other times—like if it’s a friend’s parent or a friend of my own parents—I am forced to answer the worst question I’ve ever heard in all my twenty years of living: So what do you study? I am not ashamed of what I study. In fact, I was one of the lucky few who knew exactly what they wanted to do before they even stepped foot on a college campus. So when I get the question, I always take a second to compose (or brace myself, really) before I reply, “I’m a Film Studies major.”

The next part is the worst, because I haven’t really figured out the trick in anticipating what their reaction will be. Usually, I get a subtle nod with a touch of a smile before some empty phrase like “That’s very interesting!” But every now and again I get the other response. Something that both obnoxious and condescending: “And what are you going to do with a Film Studies degree?”

What bugs me the most is that I know that I study Film for all the right reasons. I always knew growing up that I wanted to be a creative person. I wanted to write books and music. I wanted to make art and take photos. And somewhere along the way, I found film to be the perfect combination of all my interests. But choosing to study film was a struggle that I dealt with throughout my entire college application process up until my freshman year fall semester. I didn’t just resign myself to one path. I dabbled and considered other futures and careers before I submitted my major declaration.

I study film, because I believe that I can find a way to make a living by doing what I love. I want to stop here and recognize how massively privileged I am. I have two parents who love and support whatever I want to do. I grew up in a relatively wealthy middle class suburb of Boston, and I attended school in one of the state’s best districts. Of all chances, I went to a high school with a growing and well-regarded film program that was sending three or four kids to film school each year. The odds worked in my favor, and I completely recognize that.

When I say I study film, I feel like people always judge me. Movies, because they are something everyone consumes on a daily basis, seem like a frivolous career path. I should be studying something practical, like business or economics. Something that will make me money and a good living. But I don’t want that. I am lucky enough to be passionate about something, so why would I waste my life setting that passion aside?

For my entire life, I’ve been the kind of person that loved things very deeply. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had these long and deep fascinations with different things—books, music, history. With each topic, I would study and research and take in everything I possibly could before I finally scraped the very bottom of what I could learn. But with film, I’ve never been able to find the bottom. There has never been a point where I’ve stopped and decided I’ve learned everything I could. I’ve never felt satisfied. I’ve always wanted more.

So when people ask me what I’m going to do with a Film Studies degree, I can’t help but admit that I don’t know. But I don’t think that should stop me. When I say I don’t know what I want to do with my life, it’s not because studying Film—or Art or Humanities—is a dead end. It’s because I have so many choices. I could be a professor. I could be a cinematographer. I could be a media content creator. I could be a writer. I can do whatever I want because I’m willing to work hard and take advantage of the fortunes and successes I have been handed.