“Healing separately is very hard and lonely, but coming together makes it a lot easier,” Hana Rehman '25 says. “What I noticed was a lot of people who found community in PSA were able to show up, enjoy this event with each other, smile, and laugh.”
“Healing separately is very hard and lonely, but coming together makes it a lot easier,” Hana Rehman '25 says. “What I noticed was a lot of people who found community in PSA were able to show up, enjoy this event with each other, smile, and laugh.” By Briana Howard Pagán

Unsung Hero: Hana Rehman

Rehman’s said her leadership in the South Asian campus community was the result of persistence. “Showing up was really hard. There was a lot happening in my life and in other people’s lives and in the world. But showing up is half the battle,” she explains.
By Kate J. Kaufman

Hana Rehman ’25 is so dedicated to campus cultural organizations, she became a bride for one. On Saturday, Nov. 16, Hana dressed in an ornate orange lehenga and was paraded under a dupatta canopy through the Student Organization Center at Hilles. Her arrival kicked off an evening of Pakistani traditions — South Asian dance performances, biryani and chicken tikka, and colorful decorations such as marigold garlands.

Each year, the Harvard College Pakistani Student Association hosts “Mock Mehndi,” a fake wedding celebration with hundreds of attendees that highlights Pakistani culture. This year for the mehndi, Hana was the pretend bride-to-be.

It was a “full circle moment” for Hana, who served as HCPSA’s president in 2023. A year ago, in the midst of a controversial fall semester that left the HCPSA community deeply fractured, the club nearly canceled the 2023 Mock Mehndi celebration.

At a time when members of the South Asian community felt afraid and uncertain, Hana bore heavy responsibility. She served as both HCPSA’s president and a director of Harvard Undergraduate Ghungroo, an annual South Asian production that involves hundreds of students. Hana was also Blog Chair for The Harvard Crimson’s 150th guard.

A few days before the mehndi, I sit with Hana in the front row of an otherwise empty Agassiz Theatre. She has spent countless hours in this building for Ghungroo rehearsals and shows. Under the dim theater lighting, I ask her how she became involved in cultural organizations at Harvard.

“I grew up not really thinking about my culture and my identity, because it was always there. I was surrounded by people who were Pakistani,” she explains. But college was a new and isolating experience, and she found vibrant camaraderie at HCPSA.

“Now you have this community of people that you can connect with about things that aren’t related to Harvard specifically, like your culture and your identity and your upbringing,” she says.

Taking on leadership roles came soon after. “I just really wanted to give back to this community that has given me so much,” she says. “I really wanted to maintain the sense of family — everyone is comfortable with each other, everyone can come together.”

Hana couldn’t have predicted the escalating environment that threatened to pull the community apart. Last fall, 33 student organizations —including HCPSA and Ghungroo — signed the Harvard Undergraduate Palestine Solidarity Committee’s controversial statement calling Israel “entirely responsible” for the Hamas attack on Oct. 7.

In the backlash that followed, many affiliated South Asian students experienced doxxing attacks and safety concerns. Ghungroo and HCPSA were among the organizations who later withdrew their signatures from the statement.

Some members of HCPSA stopped going to class or chose to stay in their dorms and dining halls. “At this time, everyone’s staying inside, and people are trying to talk to each other, but everyone’s scared and frightened,” she says. “Talking to each other sometimes leads to more fear, rather than people calming down.”

Hana knew she needed to revive the community feeling of HCPSA. “I was crying at night because I was like, ‘I can’t be the reason that PSA is not a family anymore,’” she says. “As a president, I felt really responsible for making sure that we came back together somehow.”

She started by inviting the organization’s board out to dinner. Simply having the group in the same room strengthened the bond between members.

“All we did was sit and talk, but it was after a long time, and it was together, and it was in person,” she explains.

Hana worked to recreate the family feeling of the organization. She invited members who had stepped down from their positions in the wake of Hamas’ Oct. 7 attacks to rejoin the internal board, and rescheduled the annual Mock Mehndi to take place in December.

The celebration provided a space for warmth and community that the organization deeply needed. “Healing separately is very hard and lonely, but coming together makes it a lot easier,” Hana says. “What I noticed was a lot of people who found community in PSA were able to show up, enjoy this event with each other, smile, and laugh.”

“I didn’t know a fake wedding could do all that, but it did,” she adds.

As HCPSA repaired its fractures, the Ghungroo community also struggled with the repercussions of doxxing. Some students, for example, called for the Ghungroo name to be changed so that they could participate in the show without the fear of being doxxed again.

Through the disagreement, Hana learned first-hand that “people handle stress really differently” — from students who became involved in pro-Palestine protests, to students who were “genuinely tapped out.” Hana acted with compassion towards the members of Ghungroo who felt less informed on the issues, “giving them some grace, allowing them to be upset and confused,” and then offering herself as a resource for those who wanted to talk more.

Hana gestures backstage in the Agassiz Theatre as she recounts learning different styles of dance for Ghungroo and coordinating the cast and crew. In the spring, under Hana’s leadership, Ghungroo put on their 36th annual production.

While Hana navigated the complex dynamics of both the Ghungroo and HCPSA communities, she dealt with the fallout of doxxing in her own life. “What happens when you’re doxxed? I can’t Google that,” she says.

The high stress took a real toll. “I was really anxious. Like, I quit one of my jobs, I withdrew from a class. There were consequences,” she says. At times, she even regretted going to Harvard due to the intense national attention that campus received.

When I ask about the unsung heroes in her own life, Hana tears up as she describes the people who supported her during this time. Her roommate, for example, reminded Hana she wasn’t a bad person, even when it seemed that the world was telling her differently.

“She really showed me what being graceful to myself was,” she says.

Despite these internal challenges, Hana continued to serve as a leader. The work of bringing people together remained important to her, especially in the face of difficulty. “You can’t tear things down, you need to rebuild them,” Hana says.

“PSA can’t just end because we are now a divided community and upset with each other. And Ghungroo can’t end, or the name — which carries a lot — can’t just vanish because we had one problem,” she adds. “I have no doubt that the South Asian community will face other hurdles, and we have faced hurdles in the past, too. You can’t just eliminate everything. You need to keep rebuilding.”

Ultimately, Hana said her leadership in the South Asian campus community was the result of persistence. “Showing up was really hard. There was a lot happening in my life and in other people’s lives and in the world. But showing up is half the battle,” she explains.

For Hana, her ability to be there for the people in these organizations will be her lasting legacy at Harvard. “Building these communities is definitely the most impactful thing I’ve done while I’m here,” she says.


— Magazine writer Kate J. Kaufman can be reached at kate.kaufman@thecrimson.com.

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