Mostafa Mubarak Commencement Speech — University of Kentucky Engineering Graduate (Transcript)

Editor’s Note: In this inspiring 2026 commencement address, Mostafa Mubarak takes the stage at Rupp Arena to celebrate graduating from the University of Kentucky’s Pigman College of Engineering with an impressive three bachelor’s degrees. Arriving in the United States from Alexandria, Egypt at just 17 years old, he reflects on his journey of overcoming immense challenges by building a vibrant campus community, pursuing entrepreneurship, and channeling relentless determination. His speech serves as a powerful testament to the resilience of international students and the boundless potential of the Class of 2026. (May 8, 2026)

Opening Remarks

MOSTAFA MUBARAK: Thank you, President Capilouto, Board of Trustees, distinguished guests, families, friends, and my fellow graduates. Good morning. My name is Mostafa, and I’m going to do my absolute best to stick to this script. No promises.

Arriving in Kentucky

I came to the University of Kentucky from Egypt when I was 17 years old. I was alone with $1,000 in cash and barely enough English to survive a conversation. On my first day, I had one priority: make friends fast.

I went to the front desk of Laser Hall and asked Kaia where I could find the nearest market. She told me Target was a five-minute walk. I had never heard of Target. I walked in looking for chocolate and recognized exactly one thing: Kit Kat. So I bought some, put them in a bowl in the common area of my door, and left a note that said, “A gift to my new family.” I did not have a family here yet. I was getting ahead of myself, but it worked. That’s how I made my first friends at UK.

In the grand scheme of things, it was just chocolate, but it turned out to be the first move in a playbook I would use for the next four years. Give something, don’t overthink it, and be a little surprised when something comes back. That bowl of Kit Kats was my first lesson here. When you put something out into the world, the world tends to respond.

Never Alone

My family couldn’t make it to the ceremony today. They should be watching the live stream. I hope they’re watching the live stream. And yet, I’m surrounded by family. That has been the truth of my entire time here.

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I could give you the version of the story where I arrived alone, fought through it in silence, and clawed my way to three engineering degrees with sheer grit. LinkedIn people would love it, but that’s just not the truth. I was never alone.

There was Professor Nunez who taught me about Canvas. I was so confused for two weeks — “Canvas this, Canvas that.” It’s like, who’s Canvas? Never met that guy. There was Ms. Karen from the International Office who helped me open a bank account here. There was my advisor, Mr. Hicks, who’s the only reason I graduated in four years. There were RAs, TAs, friends, and strangers who kept showing up before I even knew the words to ask.

And I decided early on to let them. I could have come here and kept my head down. English is not my first language. I come from a completely different culture. By every logical measure, I could have let myself be received as an outsider. Instead, I decided to take everything this place had to offer unapologetically, without shame, without waiting for an invitation.

A World Bigger Than I Imagined

This place gave me everything. It gave me friends from all over the world. My best friend is Australian. My girlfriend is American-Brazilian. I found a world here bigger than anything I imagined when I first landed.

My freshman year, all of International Village packed into Blazer Hall lobby for the World Cup final. French, Nigerian, Brazilian, American, German, British, Japanese, and the coolest of them all, Egyptian, holding our breath. When Messi scored in the shootout, the room erupted. People were jumping, screaming, dropping to their knees. None of us were even rooting for Argentina. We were just hating on France.

I looked around and thought, “If I arrived here alone, I’m not anymore.” That’s what this place does — it makes you feel like you belong in rooms you never expected to be in.

Caleb and His Family

One day I was sitting in class watching a guy next to me struggle through a math problem. I said to him, “You’re really bad for an engineering student.” He looked at me and said, “You sound like Gru from Despicable Me.” That’s Caleb. He’s sitting right over there. Love you, buddy.

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Weeks later he asked me if my parents were coming for family weekend. I said, “Yeah, they’re flying in from Egypt just for that.” He didn’t know that they didn’t even come for commencement. He looked genuinely impressed. I let him sit with it for a second and then I was like, “No dude, no, they’re not coming.” He said, “Okay, come hang out with my family then.” Just like that.

Since then I’ve become so close with his family that now I have an American mom. She calls to check on me. She rescued me when my car got towed. She invites me over for Christmas and makes sure I have presents under the tree. Thank you.

I did not plan for any of that. I just made a joke in Calc. That is the thing about Kentucky that I could not have understood before I got here. There is something about the people here — a kind of instinctive generosity that doesn’t need context. You do not have to explain yourself, you do not have to earn it, you just have to be present.

The Man on the Side of the Road

Once my car broke down near campus. I’m on the side of the road covered in grease, hands burned because my smart butt thought I could reach under the hood when my radiator just exploded.

An older man cutting grass nearby came over. Thick Appalachian accent. I did not understand a thing. I said, “What?” He didn’t understand my accent, so he said, “What?” And then I said, “What?”

We were friends from then on. Our communication looked like this: “I was driving. My car exploded. I am — I’m from Egypt, you know, Egypt.” He took me to get cleaned up, helped push the car — after having heart surgery, mind you — drove me to get the part, stayed while we fixed it, and paid for everything. He didn’t ask for a dime, because that’s just what Kentuckians do. I was there, and I needed help, and that was all there was to it.

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What Belonging Really Means

Belonging, I have learned, is not really about where you’re from. It’s about who shows up for you. And sometimes that person had no particular reason to, and did it anyway.

So if I could leave the class of 2025 with one piece of advice, it would be this: do not buy a 2006 Mercedes SLK. But other than that, do not wait for life to hand you a scrap. Good things do not come to the people who grind in silence, or play it safe, or wait to feel ready. They come to the people who are already in motion, already offering something, already in the room.

A Final Word to the Graduates

So wherever you’re going, whether you have a plan or absolutely no idea, whether you feel ready or you’re faking it — which is exactly the same thing — go there as yourself, the full version and nothing less. Throw yourself into whatever comes next. The world has a way of organizing itself around people who are not waiting for permission.

If I had a million chances to choose a university thousands of miles away from home, I would choose the University of Kentucky every single time. Because somewhere between Egypt and Kentucky, between Target and Blazer Hall, between three engineering degrees and one very regrettable car purchase, I learned this: the world has way more room for you than you think. You just have to walk through the door first.

So, class of 2025, pour a bowl of Kit Kats and trust that all the good things meant for you will come without you even having to try. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.