It is a surreal experience seeing the separation of migrant families on television after having lived it myself. When I was six years old, my father was ripped away from my family and placed in every form of confinement this country could come up with—from jails to detention centers and eventually complete expulsion. At that age, I didn’t know why I was being forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window, which, in retrospect, was more frightening than any wall that America could ever build. He was criminalized in the eyes of society, but as far as I could tell, his only crime was loving me too much. However, with age, I realized that my experiences gave me the courage to be more than a victim of the American criminal justice and immigration systems. The loss of my father gave me a passion to fight for and the resilience to see it through no matter how hard the road may be. Ultimately, it gave me the tools to fight for a community that is too vulnerable to defend itself. Since coming to college, I have aligned my studies with my core values of justice and advocacy, majoring in political science and minoring in juvenile justice in social work. I have not only sought out opportunities that would prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but opportunities that have put me in a position to make a difference in the lives of others. As a part of the USC Mock Trial Team, I have a foundation of trial advocacy skills and civil rights work. As a program, our work ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change cohort, the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students in the country. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of civil rights organizations and government agencies to foster social change. Through Agents of Change, I completed an internship at the Los Angeles County Public Defender’s Office, where I trained law clerks and filed a number of motions for Angelenos across the county. Most importantly, I was able to be an agent of change in my father’s life as I cleared his record with a motion for expungement and got his outstanding warrants quashed. I also worked at Al Otro Lado, an immigrant rights organization. In my role as an intern, I was able to conduct legal intakes, serve as a translator, and file petitions. Most importantly, I was able to be a beacon of hope for the migrants at the border by providing them with essential resources and listening to their stories with an open heart. In this day and age, we need people who want to protect those who cannot defend themselves. I will make it my life’s work to prove that everyone deserves a shot at el sueño Americano—the American dream.

When I tell people that I aspire to be a lawyer, a common reaction is general surprise that’s followed by a scrunching of the nose and the exasperating question: “Why?” For years, I have repeated the same knee-jerk response: “What can I say? I like to argue.” In reality, I don’t know how to tell people that my father was deported when I was six years old. At that age, I didn’t know why I was being forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window, which was more frightening than any wall America could ever build. He was criminalized in the eyes of society, but as far as I could tell, his only crime was loving me too much. With my father locked in a holding cell in a Kern County detention center, I was forced to abandon my childish hobbies. My life no longer revolved around Nintendos and cartoons. Instead, it orbited around my father and the four-hour drives to see him for a mere half-hour every weekend. Seemingly overnight, I was molded by loss into a resilient young lady, wise beyond my years all before I could even ride a bike. As I grew older, I realized that my experiences have given me the courage to look at myself as more than a victim of America’s broken immigration system. The loss of my father shaped my fight for equality and put me on my path towards becoming a lawyer because immigrant families should not be torn apart for wanting a better life, used as pawns in a game of political chess. As a first generation student, I have sought out opportunities that not only prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but put me in a position to help others. Currently, I am a captain in the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work. Our work ranges from denouncing police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected as a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative - the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of civil rights organizations and government agencies to foster social change. Through Agents of Change, I have secured an internship at the Los Angeles County Public Defender’s Office, where I draft and file expungement petitions and seals of arrests. This program has also given me the opportunity to work at the California Department of Fair Employment and Housing, where I helped protect civil rights in the appeals and legal investigation unit. I have also completed an internship with Al Otro Lado, an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants through activism and legal advocacy. In my role as an intern, I was able to conduct legal intakes, serve as a translator, and file petitions. Most importantly, I was able to provide migrants at the border with essential resources and listen to their stories with an open heart. My purpose in life is to be one of those people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. Through a career in law, I will be able to make a difference in the lives of the most marginalized communities and continue my fight for equality. Ultimately, I will make it my life’s work to prove that undocumented people like my father deserve the American dream.

When I tell people that I aspire to be a lawyer, a common reaction is general surprise that’s followed by a scrunching of the nose and the exasperating question: “Why?” For years, I have repeated the same knee-jerk response: “What can I say? I like to argue.” In reality, I don’t know how to tell people that my father was deported when I was six years old. At that age, I was confused, searching for the meaning of the word that would torment me for years to come - deported. I didn’t know why I was being forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window, which, in retrospect, was more frightening than any wall that America could ever build. He was criminalized in the eyes of society, but as far as I could tell, his only crime was loving me too much. With my father locked in a holding cell in a Kern County detention center, I was forced to abandon my childish frivolities. My mother needed me to be adaptable since we spent the next few years bouncing around from place to place. I needed to be independent and do my homework without instruction because I couldn’t bring myself to burden her with even an ounce of stress. My life no longer revolved around Nintendos and cartoons. Instead, it orbited around my father and the four-hour drives to see him for a mere half-hour every weekend. Seemingly overnight, I was molded by loss into a resilient young lady, wise beyond my years all before I could even ride a bike. As I grew older, I realized that my experiences have given me the courage to look at myself as more than a victim of America’s broken immigration system. The loss of my father shaped my fight for equality. Since my freshman year of high school, I have given presentations at my economically disadvantaged middle school, informing students about different pre-college programs and financial aid resources that are available to them. I want to inspire these students to go after their dreams, despite the odds. The students are comforted by the idea that people like them could be in control of their education. Now that I am attending USC, I have sought out opportunities that would not only prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but put me in a position to help others. Currently, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected as a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative - the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students in the country. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of civil rights organizations and government agencies to foster social change. Through Agents of Change, I have secured an internship at the Department of Fair Employment and Housing, where I help protect civil rights in the appeals and legal investigation unit. I have also completed an internship with Al Otro Lado, an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants through activism and legal advocacy. In my role as an intern, I was able to conduct legal intakes, serve as a translator, and file petitions. Most importantly, I was able to be a beacon of hope for the migrants at the border by providing them with essential resources and listening to their stories with an open heart. In this day and age, we are in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that undocumented people like my father deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.

When I tell people that I aspire to be a lawyer, a common reaction is general surprise that’s followed by a scrunching of the nose and the exasperating question: “Why?” For years, I have repeated the same knee-jerk response: “What can I say? I like to argue.” In reality, I don’t know how to tell people that my father was deported when I was six years old. At that age, I was confused, searching for the meaning of the word that would torment me for years to come - deported. He was criminalized in the eyes of society, but as far as I could tell, his only crime was loving me too much. I was soon left with no choice, but to abandon my childish hobbies as my life no longer revolved around Nintendos and cartoons. Instead, it orbited around my father and the four-hour drives to see him for a mere half-hour every weekend. Around this time, I found a home within school, the one place where I could control my life. Through my endless nights of reading, I slowly began to patch up the hole my father’s absence left, comforted by the fact that my education was the one thing that could never be taken from me. I took pride in my schoolwork as it helped me discover a hidden strength - it allowed me to be one less worry for my mother. As I grew older, I realized that my experiences have given me the courage to look at myself as more than a victim of America’s broken immigration system. The loss of my father shaped my fight for equality. Since my freshman year of high school, I have given presentations at my economically disadvantaged middle school, informing students about different pre-college programs and financial aid resources that are available to them. I want to inspire these students to go after their dreams, despite the odds. The students are comforted by the idea that people like them could be in control of their education. Now that I am attending USC, I have sought out opportunities that would not only prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but put me in a position to help others. Currently, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected as a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative - the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students in the country. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of civil rights organizations and government agencies to foster social change. Through my work with Agents of Change, I have secured an internship at the Department of Fair Employment and Housing, where I look over appeals and determine if the current laws and statutes apply to the case. I have also completed an internship with Al Otro Lado, an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants through activism and legal advocacy. In my role as an intern, I was able to conduct legal intakes, serve as a translator, and file petitions. In this day and age, we are in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that undocumented people like my father deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.

As a first-generation Latina, my label is the source of my ambivalence. At an early age, it was clear that I had a distinct interest in learning. My parents grew fascinated by the way I would breeze through books. However, it was not until my father was deported that I built myself a home within my school halls. It transformed into a safe haven: the one place where I was in control of my life. I began to tirelessly pursue knowledge, comforted by the fact that it was the one thing that could never be taken from me. Throughout my family, I was infamously known for disobeying my curfew to read one more page of a new book despite the burning sensation in my eyes that screamed for sleep. Through my endless nights of reading, I slowly began to patch up the hole that my father’s absence left. While I excelled academically, my parents took notice of my insatiable desire to absorb knowledge and realized that I had the potential to accomplish something that they had written off as an unattainable fantasy. I could be the first to go to college. For my immigrant family, I had become the manifestation of their sacrifices. I began to understand the faith that my parents had entrusted in me and the value of pride. I had become their source of hope. However, my own pride did not come free of struggle. Being a first-generation student meant that I had to figure out a lot of things on my own. When I would come home from school, there was no one at home that could help me with my homework. While my parents meant well, I knew that they couldn’t afford a tutor, so I had no choice, but to make the most of what I had available. My afternoons consisted of me, myself, and my computer. When it came to college applications, I felt like I was navigating a dark abyss with nothing more than a single match to light the way. As for the financial aid process, my mother and I spent hours at the dinner table trying to figure out this massive puzzle of numbers and amounts. As a Latina, I have always had to prove myself, whether it be for my race or gender, but I do not intend on falling into anyone’s preconceived labels. This title is not something I take lightly since being the first in my family to go to college is my greatest accomplishment. I don’t mind having to struggle, so my baby brother will have it easier when he gets to my age. Being the first is not always the easiest, but ultimately the payoff will be worth it. Now that I am attending USC, I have sought out opportunities that would not only prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but put me in a position to help others. Currently, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students chosen as a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative, which is the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students in the country. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of different civil rights organizations and government agencies to help foster social change. Through my work with Agents of Change, I have secured an internship with Al Otro Lado, an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants through activism and legal work. With this nation growing more divided by the second, we’re in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that my father and others like him deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.

Growing up, I had the only thing a child ever needed: my parents. Ever since I could utter my first word, all the love I could conjure up was allocated to the subject of my world, my father. Then one day, everything changed. On that day that not even God, himself, could find the bright side even if he tried. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but whoever said that clearly never had their world yanked from their arms at the age of six. It all began when I noticed the sudden shift in my family dynamic, my invincible mother was suddenly erratic and my father was nowhere in sight. With tears in her eyes, my mother was forced to break the news to me: Papá got deported. My six-year-old brain swelled and sought out the meaning of the word: deported. Little did I know, this single word would torment me for years to come. Now, I was being forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window and listen to his tired voice through a phone. I was forced to see the broken man that I no longer recognized. I was forced to see a man whose only crime was loving me too much. I felt alone. With my father gone, I had to rediscover my mother, the only parent I had left. She was someone I rarely acknowledged because my entire focus was on my father and his constant outpour of affection. But with the sudden loss, I began cracking slowly and the only person who was able to glue me back together was my mother. In a time where she could’ve shut down and shut me out because of the overwhelming pain, she dug deep and pulled every ounce of strength she had left because she still had a daughter to raise. When she could’ve thrown in the towel and given up on her marriage, she stayed and fought for it because it was something worth fighting for. Despite her Superwoman façade, she showed me that her vulnerability does not mean that she is weak, but a sign of her humanity. At that point, my definition of pain was falling on the sidewalk and scraping my knee. I had never experienced emotional pain- the kind of pain that feels like someone is tearing your heart in half. Together, we held each other’s hand and learned to deal with it, something both foreign to us. In a period of my life when I yearned for my father, she made up for what I lacked. She never let me lose sight of hope. She insured my happiness and was enough of a mother to play both parts. She was all I ever needed. When I felt that the weight of the world was going to crush my tiny 6-year-old body, she reminded me that we come from the Aztecs, the greatest warriors in history. Most importantly, my mother reminded me that I am a Márquez and we never back down without a fight. She feared nothing and we fought the world’s demands together. For years when we would drive to Taft to visit my father in the detention center, she transformed the dreary drive into an all-exclusive vacation. She was the only one there to pick me up when I fell down, as I was the only one to dry her tears when the dam she crafted gave out. The sudden loss of my father granted me the opportunity to rediscover my mother for the woman she is: strong, resilient and undeniably the greatest mother to grace this earth. My mother taught me about pain, strength, and loss, but most of all, she taught me about love and hope. She taught me what it means to fight for what you believe in, which is the pinnacle of what makes me who I am: a warrior. My mother has given me the courage to look at myself as more than just a victim of our nation’s broken immigration system. My family and I are more than a statistic. The loss of my father and the experience of being raised by my mother gave me the motivation to assume an active role in fighting for equality and achieving excellence throughout both high school and college. In high school, I strived to get the best grades in the most rigorous courses, while also giving back to my community. Every year since my freshman year, I present my experiences at several pre-college programs to middle schoolers at Telesis Academy, in hopes of sparking interest. As an alumna, I understand the disadvantaged environment that shapes the student body. As the primary organizer, my role is to coordinate, create, and give the presentations. I discuss the variety of programs that are available to the students, the financial aid support that they can receive. I also worked on my local senator's student advisory council, proposing my own bill on college homelessness and voicing my opinion on other bills. At USC, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected to be a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of different civil rights organizations and government agencies to help foster social change. Currently, I have an internship with Al Otro Lado, which is an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants. With this nation growing more divided by the second, we’re in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that my father and others like him deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.

While the separation of families has recently received massive media coverage, this war has been raging for years. I would know. Instead of enjoying a normal childhood from ages six to twelve, I spent those six, agonizing years suffering at the hands of a broken immigration system. My father was torn away from my family. This left my mother and I to salvage what we could from the remnants of our now-shattered lives. With my father bouncing between detention centers, my mother and I revolved our lives around visiting him as much as possible. My weekends often involved 3am wake up calls and driving to Central California to get as much time as we could with him. For years, I was forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window and listen to his tired voice through a plastic phone. I was forced to see a broken shell of a man I no longer recognized. He was criminalized in the eyes of society. His only crime was loving me and my mother too much. America showed me that to them, he was no longer a human being, but an illegal alien. This realization that their loved ones don’t matter should never have to strike the minds of children. Sadly, it, all too often, does. As undocumented immigrants are one of the most marginalized groups in this nation, they are still used as pawns in modern-day politics. When the current administration made the proposition to add a citizenship question to the 2020 census, I was disgusted and fearful. This proposal is a blatant attack on undocumented immigrants as many will be scared into not answering the census, causing a drop in reported populations. The loss of seats in the House of Representatives for largely Democratic states would be dramatic and necessary funds for such states will be lost. In considering these repercussions, I knew that this was an injustice that I must speak out against as this would greatly affect my state of California. My experiences had given me the courage to look at myself as more than just a victim of our nation’s broken immigration system. My family and I are more than a statistic. The loss of my father gave me the motivation to assume an active role in fighting for equality throughout both high school and college. As a part of Senator Ling Ling Chang’s Student Advisory Council in high school, I voiced my concern about this pressing issue. Even if there wasn’t anything our student advisory council could directly do, I knew that if the senator was aware of how members of the community felt, then she could voice our opinions at her next census council meeting. She thanked me for commentary on the matter and said that she would relay the message at the next appointment, as she agrees that the question is unfair to both the state and immigrants. These small actions can act as ripples before the big wave. If no one ever speaks up, then progress can never be made. Now that I am attending the University of Southern California, I have sought out opportunities that would not only prepare me for my future career as a lawyer, but put me in a position to help others. Currently, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected to be a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative, which is the first civil rights advocacy clinic for undergraduate students in the country. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of different civil rights organizations and government agencies to help foster social change. Through my work with Agents of Change, I have secured an internship with Al Otro Lado, an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants by means of activism and legal work. In a world that’s fed with antipathy, we must learn to understand one another. As progressive steps forward, our country can develop a more humane stance by taking undocumented immigrants out of their sadistic camps and forbidding undocumented children to represent themselves in a court that has acted oblivious in the clear violation of humanity. In order to make America great, we must strive to understand one another and bridge cultural and socioeconomic gaps, rather than building walls. With this nation growing more divided by the second, we’re in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that my father and others like him deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.

Growing up, I had the only thing a child ever needed: my parents. Ever since I could utter my first word, all the love I could conjure up was allocated to the subject of my world, my father. Then one day, everything changed. On that day that not even God, himself, could find the bright side even if he tried. They say that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but whoever said that clearly never had their world yanked from their arms at the age of six. It all began when I noticed the sudden shift in my family dynamic, my invincible mother was suddenly erratic and my father was nowhere in sight. With tears in her eyes, my mother was forced to break the news to me: Papá got deported. My six-year-old brain swelled and sought out the meaning of the word: deported. Little did I know, this single word would torment me for years to come. Now, I was being forced to look at my father through a plexiglass window and listen to his tired voice through a phone. I was forced to see the broken man that I no longer recognized. I was forced to see a man whose only crime was loving me too much. I felt alone. With my father gone, I had to rediscover my mother, the only parent I had left. She was someone I rarely acknowledged because my entire focus was on my father and his constant outpour of affection. But with the sudden loss, I began cracking slowly and the only person who was able to glue me back together was my mother. In a time where she could’ve shut down and shut me out because of the overwhelming pain, she dug deep and pulled every ounce of strength she had left because she still had a daughter to raise. When she could’ve thrown in the towel and given up on her marriage, she stayed and fought for it because it was something worth fighting for. Despite her Superwoman façade, she showed me that her vulnerability does not mean that she is weak, but a sign of her humanity. At that point, my definition of pain was falling on the sidewalk and scraping my knee. I had never experienced emotional pain- the kind of pain that feels like someone is tearing your heart in half. Together, we held each other’s hand and learned to deal with it, something both foreign to us. In a period of my life when I yearned for my father, she made up for what I lacked. She never let me lose sight of hope. She insured my happiness and was enough of a mother to play both parts. She was all I ever needed. When I felt that the weight of the world was going to crush my tiny 6-year-old body, she reminded me that we come from the Aztecs, the greatest warriors in history. Most importantly, my mother reminded me that I am a Márquez and we never back down without a fight. She feared nothing and we fought the world’s demands together. For years when we would drive to Taft to visit my father in the detention center, she transformed the dreary drive into an all-exclusive vacation. She was the only one there to pick me up when I fell down, as I was the only one to dry her tears when the dam she crafted gave out. The sudden loss of my father granted me the opportunity to rediscover my mother for the woman she is: strong, resilient and undeniably the greatest mother to grace this earth. My mother taught me about pain, strength, and loss, but most of all, she taught me about love and hope. She taught me what it means to fight for what you believe in, which is the pinnacle of what makes me who I am: a warrior. My mother has given me the courage to look at myself as more than just a victim of our nation’s broken immigration system. My family and I are more than a statistic. The loss of my father and the experience of being raised by my mother gave me the motivation to assume an active role in fighting for equality and achieving excellence throughout both high school and college. In high school, I strived to get the best grades in the most rigorous courses, while also giving back to my community. Every year since my freshman year, I present my experiences at several pre-college programs to middle schoolers at Telesis Academy, in hopes of sparking interest. As an alumna, I understand the disadvantaged environment that shapes the student body. As the primary organizer, my role is to coordinate, create, and give the presentations. I discuss the variety of programs that are available to the students, the financial aid support that they can receive. I also worked on my local senator's student advisory council, proposing my own bill on college homelessness and voicing my opinion on other bills. At USC, I am a member of the USC Trial Advocacy Program that competes in mock trial competitions and takes part in civil advocacy work, which ranges from fighting against police brutality to helping detained migrants at the border by training pro-bono attorneys. I am also one of twelve students selected to be a part of the inaugural USC Agents of Change: Civil Rights Advocacy Initiative. Our work consists of partnerships with a variety of different civil rights organizations and government agencies to help foster social change. Currently, I have an internship with Al Otro Lado, which is an organization that fights to help undocumented immigrants. With this nation growing more divided by the second, we’re in desperate need of people who desire to protect those who cannot defend themselves. My purpose in life is to be one of those people. I will make it my life’s work to prove that my father and others like him deserve el sueño Americano- the American dream.