When I was in high school, I had created an almost foolproof, step‑by‑step plan for what my educational journey would look like. I was going to my normal classes, playing on the tennis team, and also enrolled at Francis Tuttle in the criminal justice program. My plan was to attend UCO, graduate with my bachelor’s in criminal justice, and go on to become a police officer. Unfortunately, during the second half of my junior year, I met my first boyfriend at 16, and only a few months later we were married at 17. I had always told myself that I would never become just another statistic — not another teen mom dropout. But that same boy (now my ex‑husband) made me believe that I was not good enough. Once we were married, he began to show his true colors. He was no longer a smooth talker or a gentleman. Instead, there were slaps, punches, bruises, and words that dug into me like a burning iron rod. As this started, he made me drop out of tennis first, then Francis Tuttle, and ultimately high school — all within the span of a month. On top of that, he broke my phone and cut off all connection to my family. He and his family threatened to have my family deported if I tried to leave. After a while, I was able to convince him to let me enroll in online school, but he had conditions. I had to do his coursework and could only enroll in basic classes. He even asked the advisor whether doing so would cause me to lose my Oklahoma Promise scholarship. When the answer was yes, it was music to his ears. Not only had he taken my present life, but he also planned ahead and ripped away what little opportunity I had to continue my education. I dealt with it as best as I could. I knew I at least wanted to graduate high school, especially because I had become pregnant. I was able to graduate from Epic Charter Schools in 2019, and while that was an accomplishment, it was nothing like I had envisioned. Fast‑forward to 2020, when I had my daughter. I decided that I would not let what happened to me stop me from pursuing my education. I enrolled at OCCC and graduated with my associate’s degree — but I didn’t stop there. I just finished my junior year at UCO, and I am now on track to graduate with my bachelor’s in criminal justice next May. I am still considering joining law enforcement, but after everything I went through, I also want to advocate for victims of domestic violence. All of this has meant so much to my family. I am lucky and privileged to say that I am a first‑generation daughter of an immigrant Mexican family, the first to ever attend college, and soon the first to graduate with a bachelor’s degree. This path is leading me closer to giving hope and a voice to those who have been silenced for far too long.

Growing up as a first-generation Mexican-American, I’ve lived a life shaped by sacrifice, survival, and the relentless pursuit of justice. My mother, a single parent who immigrated from Mexico, gave up her dreams of a professional career to raise me. She worked long hours in physically demanding jobs, often in silence, never complaining. Whenever I was faced with trouble, she did everything she could to raise me up. Her sacrifices were the foundation of my future, she traded her ambitions so I could have the freedom to chase mine. Her strength became my blueprint. But life tested that strength in ways I never imagined. As a young woman, I found myself in an abusive relationship that left me emotionally shattered and questioning my worth. Escaping that situation was one of the hardest things I have ever done, especially as a single mother trying to protect my child. It wasn’t just about leaving, it was about reclaiming my identity and rebuilding a life from the ashes of trauma (my mother often compares me to a phoenix). Tragedy struck again when I lost two of my brothers to gun violence. Their deaths were sudden, senseless, and devastating. They were young men with dreams, laughter, and love to give (one of them leaving behind my nephew) but they became statistics in a system that too often fails communities like mine. The grief was unbearable, but it also lit a fire in me. I could not sit back and accept that this was the reality for people who look like us, live like us, and struggle like us. These experiences have led me to pursue a career in criminal justice. I want to be part of the change. I want to advocate for victims, challenge systemic failures, and help build safer communities. My journey isn’t just academic, it is deeply personal. Every class I take, every paper I write, is fueled by the memory of my mother’s sacrifices, my own survival, my daughter and the lives of my brothers. Being a single mother in college isn’t easy. Balancing parenting, working, studying, and healing takes everything I have. But I carry the strength of generations, my mother’s resilience, my own determination, my daughters well-being and future, and the legacy of my brothers. I am not just pursuing a degree, I am pursuing justice. Not only for my own family, but for all the people who live and suffer in silence. I am committed to breaking cycles of violence and inequality, and to building a future where stories like mine are no longer common, but extraordinary.