When I was 18 years old, I witnessed the polarizing effects of what being an immigrant, minority, and POC in America meant-- to its full capacity.
I grew up in the Central Valley of California. Relatively small town, good high school and a plain but enjoyable upbringing. But growing up dual-cultured meant I had consistent conflicts with my parents who grew up as part of the urban poor community in the Philippines. With the utmost respect for them, I know that they have endured more than I ever will in my lifetime.
However, this doesn't mean that my life was devoid of difficulty. I grew up oblivious to the fact that the emotional and mental abuse I underwent as a child affected my education and opportunities greatly, especially with the familial responsibilities I was tied to.
In 2018, I was met with the biggest conflict of them all. To my disagreement, I had to move to the Philippines for college after being consistently pressured and backed into a corner. My parents felt that it was time for all of us to move, and in my culture, the children moving away for college is not a commonly accepted idea. It was a sudden decision, and in the span of a few days, I found out my life had turned upside-down.
Adjusting to life in the Philippines was extremely difficult. My fluency in the language was a bit shaky, I didn't have any friends outside of family, it was a tough city to navigate physically, and most ground-breakingly (what I felt at the time), I felt like I had lost a future and sense of security that I had worked so hard to build. My high school years appeared to slip down a drain while I was attending college on the opposite-and seemingly wrong- side of the world.
School didn't make things any easier. My university in the Philippines averaged a class schedule of 30 units every semester. It was exorbitant, and I didn't have much of a choice. For the first year and a half, I felt drained, and eventually, empty. All of my energy went towards school and trying to cope with a new, bizarre reality, and the life I thought I lost.
In 2020, the pandemic hit, and like the rest of the world, everybody transitioned to online school and work- including my siblings and parents. The world shutting down meant uncertainty in internships during a time when I needed them the most. Despite this, I looked at the brighter side of it. Time finally slowed down; I was finally able to catch a breath or two. That time also allowed me to do a lot of healing- one that required shadow-work, learning to overcome anxious tendencies and self-doubt that had first appeared as a result of the move.
I joined the student publication at my university, and throughout the years, I discovered a passion for journalism, writing, and advocacy- so much so that it influenced me to pursue my masters in global health this year. I also grew more comfortable after establishing a wonderful and kind group of friends. They remind me, everyday, who I want to see change for in this country the most: the poor and the working class. As a biology major, I also had great experiences in research that propelled me into finding knowledge that makes some sense of the biological world around us.
The slower pace of the pandemic also afforded me time to work a bit. With online school, I was still pretty busy, but during breaks and weekends I would work on my home baking business. Baking has always been a hobby of mine since I was a child. I sold various baked goods online, all produced by myself-with the occasional help from my sisters- and was able to make extra money that I saved. A home business isn't the typical food service job, but the strain of trying to balance it with school reminded me of the nightmares of my retail job in high school. I would stay up late and get up early to fill people's orders. People were kind enough to recommend me and become returning customers.
In April of 2022, I am now a senior, a month away from finishing my college career. If you told me that I would have triumphed hurdles, doubts, and see the light at the end of it all, feel excited even, back when I was a freshman, I wouldn't have believed you. I reminisce on my entire college experience and obstacles with a sense of gratitude and purpose now because I grew. I learned what matters most to me and how I hope to bring change to communities. Yes, growing up in the States while being tied to a traditional culture caused much turmoil, but I’m proud of beating the unconventionality of my path; it shaped me to be a more resilient and empathetic person.
So you see, much like Jae'Sean, I was built. I was built by my story, my insecurities, my accomplishments, and especially, the people around me. To my friends who took extra care in making sure I didn't get lost on the way home and tried to help me understand how classes operate, to my research mentors who took a chance on me and accepted me into their labs, to my professors who were compassionate during one of the world's biggest crises, and to my family, who did their best in a world where the odds were stacked against them: this is all for you.
And like the sponsor of this scholarship, I want to use current and future achievements to give back. This scholarship is not only a way to make furthering my education feasible, but it's also a way to spread greater change. Through me. For people like me. Who never give up in the face of adversity, and want to diversify the leaders who spearhead change.