Recycling the Rules

Veronica Rajadnya ’09 is a communications strategist, writer, and senior marketing manager at TerraCycle, where she helps promote global sustainability efforts—from recycling innovations to circular economy solutions. A proud first-generation Filipina-Indian American, she’s also a music journalist and longtime contributor to The Aquarian. She spoke with us about the power of storytelling, the impact of her Monmouth experience, and how her cultural heritage shapes her approach to work and leadership.

You’ve carved out a unique career path. What have you been up to since graduating?

I’m a storyteller at heart—whether I’m doing public relations, growth marketing, or writing. I’ve been at TerraCycle for nine years, where we’re known for recycling the unrecyclable and building solutions for hard-to-recycle items like cigarette butts, chewing gum, and food packaging. I’ve worked on everything from launching the Loop reuse platform to publicizing a beach plastic recycling innovation recognized by the United Nations. I’m also an inaugural member of our Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Impact Committee.

Outside of TerraCycle, I write about music and pop culture for The Aquarian, New Jersey’s original alt-weekly, where I’ve interviewed artists including Billy Corgan and The National. I also volunteer regularly at the Trenton Area Soup Kitchen and give back to Monmouth by mentoring students, sitting on alumni panels, and participating in career fairs.

What role did Monmouth play in shaping who you are and what you do today?

Monmouth gave me the freedom to explore and the support to succeed. I started out planning to go to law school—I took the LSAT twice and scored well—but along the way, I fell in love with writing and storytelling. A writing minor gave me space to hone my voice through creative nonfiction and op-eds, while my political science major gave me the tools to understand systems and power.

The faculty—especially Dr. Joseph Patten, Dr. Rekha Datta, and Dr. Nancy Mezey—taught me how to think critically, debate respectfully, and engage with the world. They inspired me to have a sociological imagination and to see that power (including the power to change the world) is intersectional. That was important for a brown, bookish, “queerish” person like me.

Dr. Patten also encouraged me to apply for The Washington Center, a sort of domestic semester abroad where students from schools across the country take up an internship, coursework, and volunteer hours in the nation’s capital. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that gave me a glimpse into what a career in politics, public service, or even news journalism would look like, and I’ve been creating these roles for myself ever since.

Were there any extracurricular experiences at Monmouth that helped you find your voice?

WMCX was where I found my footing. I hosted a music/talk show called “Smoke Signals” and was on the news team. I covered campus issues, interviewed politicians, and learned how to connect through communication. It was a space where curiosity and weirdness were celebrated, and where I started becoming who I am. For my work, I earned the Department of Communication’s Radio Broadcasting Award, a small but heavy trophy that reminds me to use my voice for good.

I also found community through the campus chapter of All Lifestyles Included, now called Monmouth PRIDE, which offered space, support, and visibility for LGBTQ+ students. It showed me the power of joy, connection, and representation.

May is Asian American and Pacific Islander (AAPI) Heritage Month. How has your cultural heritage shaped your identity and career?

My mother and father are, respectively, immigrants from the Philippines and India, so I am first-generation Asian American, raised by parents who came to the U.S. to build better lives. Growing up at the intersection of two rich cultures taught me to value resilience, adaptability, and connection—especially through food and storytelling.

At home, the news was always on. We talked about global injustice, inequality, and progress. That awareness shaped how I saw the world—and how I wanted to show up in it. From the classroom to the boardroom, I’ve often been the “only” in the room: the only Asian, the only woman, the only Filipina-Indian. I used to see that as something to hide. Now, I see it as a superpower.

My heritage influences how I lead—with empathy, clarity, and purpose. It’s not just cultural—it’s operational. I’m a bridge-builder because I’ve lived between worlds. And I’ve learned that representation isn’t just about being seen—it’s about making space for others, too.

Is there any advice you would offer to young AAPI professionals starting their careers?

Remember who you are and own the fact that your perspective is powerful. As an AAPI professional, you bring a global mindset, cultural fluency, and the ability to see across differences—those are leadership traits. Don’t wait for permission to contribute, but when you do speak, speak with intention. Read the room. Clock the dynamics. Meet people where they are and move with clarity.

The truth is, many of us in the global majority grow up knowing we must be twice as good, twice as prepared, in spaces where we are underrepresented. You can work to break that cycle (a lot of progress has been made by your ancestors), but not by pretending it doesn’t exist. Lead with confidence, but stay observant, and don’t take things personally. Do your thing and know when to keep your cards close. Power and influence don’t come from being the loudest in the room—it comes from being precise, and authentic.

Find your people—mentors, allies, peers. Build relationships that energize you, not just advance you. And when you do find yourself in rooms with influence, use that presence to make space. Representation isn’t just about being seen—it’s about helping others be themselves, too. That’s how we shift the culture: not overnight, but one intentional move at a time.

If you could go back to the start of your Monmouth journey, what would you tell yourself?

Everything I just said. And also—stop taking yourself so seriously, but start taking yourself more seriously. You’ll know what I mean one day.

Oh, and do more internships. Time flies.