Cuervo Rincon Scholarship of Excellence for Latinas

Home is 1,716 miles away from the Mexican-American border – in small town Michigan of all places. Yet despite the distance, home is nonetheless stuck between the United States and Mexico. Look closely at my town and you’ll find rigid boundaries. Forbidden crossings too. Our family cooks Mexican food with American ingredients that have painfully American names. Hominy corn. Beans. Hot peppers. Though I was only a freshman at the time, I struggled with the apparent contradiction: that despite the fact that my siblings and I were born 1,716 miles away from the Mexican-American border, we seemed to straddle two countries. Beyond social divisions of ‘us’ and ‘them’, legal reminders have put this border on us as well. Like when my dad got his citizenship in 2016. When I got mine too – that, is my Mexican one. We both needed proof that the country across the dividing line of the Rio Grande was also home. When I recount the numerous borders that have crossed my family, I grapple with their materiality. Through facing social and legal indeterminacy in a place as unlikely as Michigan, I recognize that the immigrant struggle for belonging extends well beyond our physical border. As such, I feel a deep personal obligation to pursue immigration reform. I hope to dedicate my life to fighting for a country where immigrant and their communities are included fully in civic life. Thus far, I have worked diligently to achieve this goal. I have worked in a military base-turned-refugee camp to resettle Afghans displaced by the Taliban, hiked dangerous trails in the Sonoran Desert to leave water for migrants, and even advocated for migrant access to mental health services. Let me speak in detail about this last experience: In 2012, Chicago closed half its public mental health clinics. Immigrant communities have since reported reduced access to clinics and bilingual centers. To address this gap, I joined Treatment Not Trauma to volunteer as a canvass lead. It spearheaded a referendum to reopen the closed mental health clinics. But to get this question on the 20th ward ballot, we needed 1,469 more signatures. Our solution lay Back of The Yards – a Latino immigrant neighborhood with strong support for mental health services. I leveraged my Mexican-American background to encourage civic engagement within my community. In the lead-up to the signature deadline, I spent up to ten hours a day canvassing here. We canvassed every household eligible to vote and earned our question a spot on the ballot. I then facilitated a canvassing workshop between Treatment Not Trauma and two of the University of Chicago’s largest ethnic organizations. This additional outreach paid off. Come election day, our referendum passed with 96% percent support in the 20th Ward. Brandon Johnson has since incorporated our proposal into city policy planning. My commitment to immigrants -- from settlement to arrival -- is evident in my work. I hope to continue this as an immigration lawyer. This profession would empower me to be on the front lines of defending immigrants’ rights. Here, I would challenge deportation orders, file visa applications, and make petitions for asylum. The profession of an immigration lawyer is becoming especially important in our changing world. As climate change intensifies, millions will be displaced. It is therefore up to us to find solutions as radical as the crises we face. I know that human flow will not stop. But laws that harm migrants can. This scholarship is the first step to achieving this dream. With it, I will be one step closer to graduating debt-free – and closer to law school.

Growing up my most valuable possession was my sketchbook. I would carry it everywhere, my escape from the world and the different microaggressions I faced as a young, queer, Latina. My sketchbook was also my way of giving happiness to those around me. I would draw silly characters to cheer up classmates, drew detailed birthday and Christmas cards for those I cared about and even strangers weren't denied a drawing if I deemed they need it a quick cheering up. Art was how I gave my heart to the world. As an adult, I joined the workforce and kept creating art. I collaborated with a small board game company called Ugly Frog Games and designed a family-friendly zombie card game while working full-time as a Bilingual recruiter. It was during my role as a recruiter, I became more aware of the lack of representation my own community faced. I was given the opportunity to work closely with the Latinx community of Northern Colorado and quickly noticed a disparity in the way Latinx workers were portrayed( or should I say were not portrayed.) The graphics, photos, and art used to present these roles never depicted Latinx workers. Employers refused to create training documents for Spanish-speaking workers and although it was hidden behind corporate wording, blatant discrimination, was not uncommon. So I took matters into my own hands and created step-by-step picture guides for Spanish-speaking workers whose companies did not provide training in their language. I spent hours creating graphics that helped them navigate systems. I worked closely with training teams to ensure they provided support to these individuals and assisted them in building their resumes as well as created graphics in both English and Spanish so that those in the Latinx community knew and had equal opportunities to apply for jobs in the area. Through this experience, I learned I could combine my passion for art and provide a platform for those who otherwise would be dismissed. My goal in my academic journey is to go on to receive my Masters and become an Art Director. In this role I would be able to give a platform to other Latinx artists to present their art and stories to the world as well as work with organizations in building graphics and advertisement that is inclusive to all communities and that properly represents the workforce. This scholarship would allow me to continue my academic journey in pursuit of creating spaces for marginalized identities to be not only heard but seen.

When asked, “How are you?” people may say, “I’m good”—but this is often a reflex. Millions of people struggle with mental health issues, including me, but after realizing my passion for the field, I am no longer silent. When I was six years old, I choked on food and had my first panic attack. From that moment, I swore that I would not eat because it was “dangerous.” In the next few months, I was hospitalized, went to multiple therapists, and lived off of nutrition drinks. Everyone around me was worried, but I felt no one could understand the impact of my anxiety. It was my fourth therapist, Linda, that changed everything. I am forever grateful for her talking with me, eating lunch with me, and being present with me. If it were not for her support, I may have starved to death. I wondered if other people had anxiety or mental health issues like me, and as I grew up, I noticed it all. I saw friends with scars of self-harm. I saw teachers take mental health leaves. I saw news headlines about suicide. As I became more cognizant, I decided to dedicate my life to understanding why our brains worked against us. I wanted to be someone’s “Linda.” With that being said, I know that I belong in the mental health field, and paired with my love for science, I plan on becoming a psychiatrist. The contribution of this scholarship would help me move toward dedicating my life to helping people who feel misunderstood the same way I felt. Being introduced to this issue at a young age fueled fire in my heart, and my passion burns brightest when I am volunteering for the Crisis Text Line. I began counseling for CTL in May 2022, and I can confidently say that I have solidified my dream career and, more importantly, made a difference in the lives of others. I am not qualified to give advice or administer therapy, but what I can do is be present for those in crisis. Whether about a fight with a friend or an abusive parent, I have the proper training to calm a situation and provide resources. Even though I cannot see the faces of the people I text, I know that my volunteering changes lives. I remember my first experience with a suicidal texter; my nerves grew as they cussed at me, but I realized they were likely just as scared as I was. let the texter lead and air out whatever they need to talk about and told them there is no shame in admitting they wanted to end their life. With these few words, a wave of change came in the texter’s voice. This simple validation made the texter extremely thankful and calm, and I was able to work with them to make a safety plan. After the conversation, I got an anonymous "thank you" note. I began to cry while reading it. The texter may have ended up ending their life that night if it were not for my words. Because of CTL, I am even more open about my struggles and actively trying to crush the stigma of mental health in my community. I check in on the people I may not be friends with. I advocate for mental health awareness as the wellness chair of my sorority. CTL has taught me that there is no emotion to be ashamed of. Everyone deserves an outlet to air their struggles, and I am grateful for becoming the outlet for over two hundred people in less than a year.

My name is Alisa. I am currently an undergraduate student in my 2nd year. For the past two years I have worked in my student government, advocating for greater access for marginalized people of all backgrounds. I was an Organizing Director and Legislative Director at UC Santa Cruz where I lobbied in Sacramento, Washington and in my own school and home communities of Santa Cruz and Los Angeles for a more accessible, inclusive America. In the middle of my sophomore year, I experienced a hate crime, one that went misreported. In that experience, I had to report the incident to the police, which was confusing as a child of immigrants and Hispanic woman. This experience forced me to look at the ways in which other areas of the law are inaccessible, to people who look like me, and people who do not. Through this traumatic experience, I found I brought my knowledge to my work, and worked hard to ensure my team was advocating for people from all walks of life to change laws. Last year, I advocated for a bill that would require hate crimes to be more comprehensively reported on campuses across the nation. It garnered support from representatives across the board, and we were eventually able to get two representatives to promise to both help co-sign the bill and introduce it in the next cycle. This triumphant feeling after experiencing this issue in my life helped me finally feel empowered and heard. In that moment, I decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life helping champion success for those who have been unheard by the legal system by becoming a lawyer. In addition to the positions I held above, I also held a position at the Disability Resource Center at my university, working as a case manager for students with disabilities. I direct them to which resources they need, and check their accommodations are being met. In this position, I saw how so many students were denied their accommodations at the workplace, and in school. Many professors and classrooms were uneducated about how to effectively and legally adhere to accommodations. This gap meant so many students with disabilities were left behind in their education, and in my personal experience, I saw how so many Hispanic/Latine students were left even further behind. My parents fought so hard to bring me to a country where education would be more accessible for their children, and I saw my story reflected in many of the students stories they told me. I knew that I wanted to become a disability rights lawyer, so I could continue to advocate and demand access for disabled people across the state, so that they could access the same rights I was lucky enough to receive. This scholarship would make it possible for me to complete my undergraduate degree in Legal Studies and pursue an extracurricular education in American Sign Language, so that I can have another language available to communicate with clients in my future work as a disability rights lawyer. Being a Mexican-American woman, I have faced so many financial challenges to get to school. My mother is a single mother, a Mexican immigrant who is the sole caregiver for my sick grandmother, and so I am the sole provider for my own education. This scholarship would allow me to continue to show up for communities as my best self, to continue to be the entirety of who I am at work, school and when advocating for others. I hope to continue to be in community and provide community, both professional and personally.