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.