My lived experiences as a first-generation student used to wire me to say one thing when asked about campus resources: “Uh, I don’t really know about that.” Being the first in my Mexican, immigrant family to pursue higher education came with emotional, mental and financial burdens I still tackle today. Moving over 300 miles to UC Berkeley drained my savings before classes even began. Back home, my family faced food insecurity and my father’s battle with late-stage cancer. Navigating these challenges while adapting to college crumbled my mental health and academic performance during my first semester. However, my hardworking parents taught me that I am never alone in the fight. Being first generation made me realize that to advocate for others, I first had to learn to advocate for myself. So, I forced myself to step out of my comfort zone and seek support at the Latinx Student Resource Center (LSRC). In its welcoming environment, I found the courage to open up to a mentor and a social service therapist about my financial stress. Together, we scouted local food banks and navigated complex California assistance programs. Soon, I was calling Medi-Cal on behalf of my parents between classes, translating emails and lowering their medical bills. Restoring hope for my family back home gave me the stability I needed to thrive in school. This experience reshaped my purpose as a Legal Studies and Geography major. Realizing the power of knowledge, I channeled my experiences into advocacy. I co-led immigration history workshops for over 50 community members, presented on anti-surveillance strategies regarding ICE and just recently served as an orientation leader to mentor over 30 incoming students—many of them being first-generation, like me. I have dreams of spending my career bridging the gap between legal help and minority communities, like mine, silenced by the system as an aspiring public defender. I am driven by the hardworking communities of underrepresented individuals who sacrifice so much to provide, like my own parents. While I have learned to build my own bridge, financial hardship remains a constant obstacle. Receiving this scholarship would alleviate the stress of covering my educational, living and food expenses. This would allow me to focus fully on my studies and grassroots advocacy without burdening my family; I could spend further time servicing the community through teach-in events and workshops. This scholarship represents more than financial relief; it is an investment in my capacity to uplift others through mentorship—solidifying my genuine passion for helping others who feel lost, like how I felt. But also, this scholarship is a testament to the power of community and the beauty of relying on others when navigating first-time spaces. So, today in my second year at Cal, when a peer asks where to find help, financial aid guidance, or the best places to study, I don’t shrink back. Instead, I’d like to say that I sound like the mentor I wish I had going into college: “Wait, I know EXACTLY what you’re talking about—let me help!”

Waking up on a Saturday morning, I catch a stray comment about my crazy, messy hair as I leave my bed in the living room of our studio apartment, but my parents continue to argue over how the bills and rent will be paid this month. I try to stay positive as I get ready in the bathroom—the knots in my hair coming across my comb reminding me of the financial struggles my parents argue about. Thoughts overflow as I yank away at my hair: Maybe I could sell some old clothes online to help. I’ll have to accompany my dad to his doctor’s appointment today, I just hope he’ll be fine. I regain my composure, ready to start another day. Last year, news of my dad’s colon cancer diagnosis ensued his retirement—and waged a new war of financial madness in my mind. Growing up in a low-income household with only my dad providing a steady source of income, his late retirement and unprecedented diagnosis added to the immense pressures I already faced as the youngest child in my immigrant family. As immigrants from Mexico, my parents sought a better life for their children here in the States; my father worked a job as a farmer while my mom cared for my sister and I. Having focused on my academics so that my parents’ sacrifices were not made in vain, I observed the deterioration of my dad’s physical health in efforts to keep our family afloat. After his diagnosis, drive sparked inside me and my focus on my academics intensified. I used my academics as a way to escape our financial hardships, and the pain felt from my dad’s diagnosis. Rather than being in my home faced with all of our uncertainties, I used my time after school to attend office hours, join clubs like mock trial and quizbowl, and most importantly, join college-access organizations like the Nicholas Academic Centers (NAC). Involving myself in these activities, I began developing skills like public speaking, networking, and leadership–further enriching my academic drive. Attending these activities after school fueled my passion to pursue a collegiate education. What was once an escape for me turned into a motivation–motivation to succeed. However, as my dad’s doctor visits became more frequent, and the financial strain intensely compounded, I could not completely ignore what I was feeling within. At first, I kept my situation bottled up, but with time I opened up to a mentor at the NAC. After some courage, I decided to share my story with a therapist. Together, we scoured for local food banks and programs for low-income families in California through Medi-Cal to support my family. After what felt like an infinite prison of fleeting sunshine, I began to open up to my mom about my feelings. Through tears, we bonded over the familial pressures of our youth and felt inspired to take action. Together, we began to make phone calls to Medi-Cal and attend local food banks that I found online. Slowly, our pantry became more full and bill costs lowered. Not only that, but I learned to advocate for myself and seek help from others even when I felt hopeless—something I hope to help others achieve as a future attorney and citizen. Through my efforts, I could see changes not only within our household, but within myself. Although my family continues to struggle financially, I don’t let the despair of awaiting a grim future get me down. My efforts to strive for success with my family have taught me perseverance, resilience, and determination—a perfect formula to create change wherever I go.