Riding Towards
Belonging

The low rumble of the engine is deeply familiar. The shifting vibrations radiate through her spine, holding her bones and connective tissue in a resonant embrace. For Dr. Christy Johanson, Vice President of Student Affairs and Enrollment Management at Eastern New Mexico University, thousands of miles on her motorcycle mean more to her than a hobby. They are an essential part of what keeps her centered. Her way of being reborn and renewed. Some meditate or run, while others make crafts, but Johanson careens across the country in the sidecar of her motorcycle with her husband at breakneck speeds. She calls this 'wind-therapy'.

The ground beside the road breathes in and out, contracting and releasing, as the Honda Gold Wing moves across the interstates. Cut stone passages pull sharp mountain terrain uncomfortably close, before throwing the bike into the vastness of the open fields in rural America. From her Hannigan sidecar, she doesn't just witness, but feels the winding backroads, the rolling hillsides, and the open plains she rides through.

Some meditate or run, while others make crafts, but Johanson careens across the country in the sidecar of her motorcycle with her husband at breakneck speeds. She calls this ‘wind-therapy’.

She always felt there was something significant, something uncanny, about the sound of an exposed engine and the way it is transformed by the environment. The way its pitch lowers into an enfolding rumble, holding her close, like a hug. The way the road opens, and the deep structured hum transforms into a chaotic scream that breaks up and dissipates, careening to fill the landscape.

As she rides, the hills encase her and let her go, while the bike's pitch contracts and expands responding to the unique call of the land. The pattern of unfurling and receding in constant motion defines her out here.

She spreads her arms out wide and splits the wind with her fingers into invisible, self-contained eddies and revels at the wild beauty of the natural elements. They become a blanket made of a million tiny parts, each one moving, spinning, and vibrating in its own way. This is the tapestry from which she is woven, a pattern she is a part of and a place where she belongs.

The road has always been familiar, but it hasn't always been a place where Dr. Johanson felt a sense of belonging. Growing up, Johanson adapted as best she could in the chaos of a turbulent home.

She found herself in the foster care system and attended nine elementary schools, four junior highs, and five high schools.

"I've been on the road my whole life, and I missed a lot of school, and almost didn't graduate from high school because I kept missing so much."

The path to belonging is never straightforward; renewal seldom comes without some form of rebirth. Somehow, against the odds Johanson made it to junior college. The first minutes on that campus bore into her deeply, leaving a lasting mark on her mind, developing her into who she is today.

College was the first place where the rules seemed straightforward and simple. The chaos of her childhood and young adulthood started to feel more contained and lowered its roar. If she did the work, she could become her unique self, on terms that she could set, following the structure of the university. The wildness and broken pitch of her childhood began to enfold like the engine of her motorcycle entering a high-hilled forest passage.

"I remember going into the Wharton County Junior College (WCJC) administration building, and I didn't know where to go," she said, relaying a feeling shared by many ENMU first-time college students. "I remember being scared. I didn't even know what office to go to, because there wasn't a welcome office or a central location in that building." Once she made it inside the building, created a schedule, and started school, she began feeling at home. College was the first place where the rules seemed straightforward and simple. The chaos of her childhood and young adulthood started to feel more contained and lowered its roar. If she did the work, she could become her unique self, on terms that she could set, following the structure of the university. The wildness and broken pitch of her childhood began to enfold her like the engine of her motorcycle entering a high-hilled forest passage.

Back on the highway, while the sun is low behind dense woods that skirt the roadway, she watches the patterns of warm, pink light that illuminate the Honda Gold Wing's mirror in flickering wedges. She smiles as she thinks of the pink light-up mirror she recently hung in her office back on campus.

The mirror was a gift from a student.

Because of her past, Johanson sees fragments of herself in every student she meets. Like herself, this student faced challenges at other institutions. "She transferred here as a single mom. She had a really hard time in life and was already scarred and traumatized by other experiences in other schools," she said, through moist eyes. "She was very untrusting and scared, but she also wanted to move forward." Johanson spent time working and encouraging the student to help her achieve her goals and find a place of belonging.

As a gesture of gratitude, when that student graduated, she arrived at Johanson's office with a gift in hand. Inside was a bright, heart-shaped mirror framed with a neon-pink light around its edges. The student wanted Johanson to look at her reflection in the mirror and be reminded that the person reflected back is amazing and worthy. "I hung it in the corner as a constant reminder of the impact that I had on her and the impact that she's had on me," Johanson said. Now, it is a constant testimony of Johanson's mission, reflecting the faces of students, and her vision.

Her vision is to help develop a space where every student, no matter where they come from, feels an immediate sense of belonging and support.

Pulling into Portales on a late August afternoon, the sun is low over the southwestern horizon. The exposed red beams of the new Student Academic Services (SAS) building rise from the ground into what looks like a steel nest. Like the low sun flickering in Dr. Johanson's Gold Wing mirror, the patterns of light flick into long warm bars across the road like a welcoming pull into what is to come.

Johanson is a leading figure behind the design and the construction of the new (SAS) building, opening summer 2026. Envisioned as the new front door to campus, her concept is for each student to find an immediate sense of belonging. Johanson is considering every detail. The new SAS building will stand as a symbol of renewal for the student-centered services Johanson champions. The new SAS building fulfills her promise to include elements of belonging for any student who enters ENMU. This new building is a space that has been meticulously designed for function and feeling, a place not only for students to feel comforted, but also supported.

“It is so important to me that when students walk into this building, they will not see a wall, a sign, or another door to go through, they will see a person. A person who says, ‘welcome, we are glad you are here.’”

For Johanson, function and design must work harmoniously. The rules within the building are like the rules that helped her find herself. If the design makes it impossible for a student to know where they should go, then the entire function of the building is lost. She believes the openness of a space should encourage the student to explore with just enough structure to not be lost. "It is so important to me that when students walk into this building, they will not see a wall, a sign, or another door to go through, they will see a person," she says of the construction, "a person who says 'Welcome, we are glad you are here.'"

"We have a lot of first-generation, low-income individuals who have the ability to succeed," Johanson says about students she has met who, by no fault of their own have yet to be exposed to the processes and procedures that organize a collegiate system. She explains that they just don't know how to find themselves in the wide-open spaces, the twists and turns of the college experience. She works personally to offer them a place to learn more about who they are and to provide services that motivate them to reach for their aspirations. "They don't know it yet, and they don't know how to go about starting that process, that educational journey. For me, that was the hardest part. I think that support is what we offer here," she said of her mission for the new building and department she is expanding.

It was in structure that Johanson found the edges of herself and truly understood where she ended, and the world began. The organization of a university, like a roadmap of the expanses of the country, offers just enough structure to protect and nurture individual identity, one's unique path and intellectual potential, from the overwhelming nature of the unknown. If designed for the care and commitment of each individual student, it can also help guard them from, and guide them through, any echoing resonances from the chaotic, unmapped roads traveled prior.

It is what saved Dr. Johanson, and it is how she intends to help Greyhounds. Education became her anchor. For a life constantly on the move, college became her first true roadmap.

"Truthfully, education was the first thing I found that had rules I understood. Nothing ever seemed to make sense," she shares. "When I fell into education, I knew what the expectation was, and if I followed it, I would do well. It was the first time in my life that I got rewarded."

In addition to her undergraduate studies at WCJC, Johanson has a bachelor's degree from the University of Houston Downtown, two master's degrees from the University of Houston-Victoria, and a Doctor of Education degree in Higher Education Administration from Texas Tech University. Each degree she has is proof of her perseverance in her personal life and trust in the rules of academia. "Education is where I belong. It is 100 percent ingrained into who I am," she said.

But no student is alike. Like the exposed engine of a Honda Gold Wing, that responds to its environment, whose sound bends and holds, opens and expands, we must meet and support every student where they are.

"I'm lucky enough to have a career that supports students and helps them find their place."

When Johanson entered higher education, she was driven to succeed because she wanted the reward of learning. She knows this is the case for most students entering Eastern, but she is also intimately familiar with many of the challenges that often result in student stop-outs or failure. She notes that the intense feeling of impostor syndrome, the feeling of not being enough or skilled enough for something, prevents many students from moving forward. To help the students that come through her office, she tells them, "Education is one of the few things in life that is solely yours." Johanson believes that the best thing we can offer students is the structure and support they need to be themselves, "No one can ever take your education from you. No one gives it to you. This is yours." But no student is alike. Like the exposed engine of a Honda Gold Wing that responds to its environment, whose sound bends and holds, opens and expands, we must bend and open to meet and support every student where they are.

Johanson isn't only using her experience as a student for the rebuild of the SAS, she is also bringing in current students to imagine the ideal space where they would like to flourish. She brought students to test out furniture and talk about the layout that would be used for the new build. "We want them to feel welcome, because if you don't feel welcome, you're not going to feel like moving forward," she said.

"The intent is to bring all of Student Affairs together in one space," Johanson said, noting that some areas, such as Tutoring and Campus Life, will remain in the Golden Student Success Center and Campus Union. "The new building will bring the bulk of the services in one space, in a more cohesive flow, a more welcoming vibe." She imagines and hopes that the building will be the home base for her multi-division team and all the support that they may need when starting college.

The building will house a completely reimagined Career Services Department, born from the idea of providing Career Services for life. Moving beyond simple resume reviews, the new department will be a cornerstone of the University's "Greyhound Connection" quality initiative, proactively building relationships with employers, securing internships, and serving alumni long after graduation. Support for our Greyhounds will not stop when they complete their education.

For Johanson, the elements of belonging are the secret to successful student services at the University. Johanson learned to trust the system and structure of academics because of her own struggles and personal tragedies. If it weren't for higher education, Johanson may not have ever come to know her true self. After losing love, family, and almost herself, schooling was the nest that Johanson threw herself in. In that nest, she found who she was again. It was in higher education that she arrived, feeling lost, confused, and like she did not belong.

It was through education, support, and structure that she became whole again. She aims to ensure that every aspect of the newly constructed SAS building embodies a unique sense of nurturing. "I want visitors to feel a sense of comfort and ease," she said. "I want them to feel like they belong here and not to feel overwhelmed, because those overwhelming feelings can stop someone from moving forward in their education."

Moving forward at 79 miles an hour, they are passing a tractor-trailer. The sky is darkening, and the air is damp. She wonders if it might rain as she glances into the side mirror again. The semi recedes, and she is framed with the structured edge of the mirror. She is staring at who she is and, simultaneously, at all those she has been able to help. Chaos does not know itself without order; belonging has no hold until you are lost and then found. The highway turns south, and the clouds over the expanse of the plains look like a tower, a wall.

She knows from her experience riding the margins out here, they are only moving vapor. She is on her favorite edge again. Captivated yet comfortable, calm but exhilarated: laid open to the road.

Johanson believes that the reason she can open herself to the chaos, the unknown, of the road is because she knows who she is at heart. Finding comfort riding the edge of that chaos is a skill many may never come to know, but she is committed to helping students find their edge, nonetheless, and supporting them as they face it. She knows that chaos is safe because she can always return to the building and the structure that helped her know herself, as she works to create that structure for others.

“To be renewed, to grow to our fullest potential, requires us to face—and ride—the edge of the unknown.

Riding in the sidecar of the Honda Gold Wing, her husband, David, driving, Johanson surrenders the control and the meticulous construction of her life to the elements of the open road. Arms out, face shield lifted, fingers wide, the wind embracing her from all sides as she fades into the land where she belongs.