memory road: i have a bittersweet relationship with the long and winding trail i love it there, i hate it there, i love seeing you there, i hate meeting you there. i hate that i love retreating to you there. the moments around me slowly shift to black and white and blue. and while i try to stop it, there’s nothing i can do. memory road: each day as i trek back to rendezvous, it takes a step more than it did the day before. days and weeks and years slip into inches and yards and miles until i’m hiking through the wilderness, trudging along the path, crawling against the gravel to relive a second with you. but i’ve no more seconds with you. and there is no second of you. there’s nothing i can do but walk again down memory road until i run into you. and until we meet again someday, this road will have to do.

As the oldest child of immigrants and a first-generation student, I was absolutely clueless when college applications rolled around. I sought guidance whenever possible, and I owe everything to those who offered theirs to me. My mentors helped me search for schools, gave me pointers on my essays, and fully encouraged me throughout the whole process. Instilling this positive legacy in me inspired me to pass it on. After finishing up my freshman year at university, I volunteered to mentor a high school senior through their own college application process. This full-circle moment was beyond fulfilling; better yet, it allowed me to pass on my mentors' advice as well as my own. My mentee spent three days with me on campus. During that time, I toured her around the school, offered suggestions for class enrollment, introduced her to the Filipino student community, and bonded with her as a friend. I suppose it's in my "oldest child" nature to look out for my younger peers. However, in teaching my mentee about college life, I reflected on how much I had learned. I grew as a person simply from knowing her, as well. In my opinion, this is how a mentorship—or any relationship—should be: a two-way street. Learning and growing don't occur in isolated directions, but rather are reciprocated and built up between people. As a mentor, I originally wanted to provide answers to questions I had no choice but to find on my own. However, I was fortunate enough to also gain a sense of camaraderie, community, and belongness with someone who reminded me of myself. I only hope I was able to inspire her to carry on the legacy of mentorship, and that I was able do it as much justice as it had done for me.

Looking back, I consider myself lucky. All my best friends were Filipino, Seafood City was just down the street, and the local Philippine Independence Day Festival was the highlight of every summer. Growing up in a predominantly Filipino neighborhood in Southern California meant I never felt out of place. I didn't realize this privilege until I left my small town to go to college. Upon arriving on campus, I felt lost in a sea of students, none of whom looked like me. That's when I found the Filipino community at Berkeley. There, I learned of our collective struggle as students of color in higher education. Since then, I've seen it as my responsibility to lift as I climb. I understand that I am a product of my community, and I owe my current and future successes to it. As a low-income, Filipina, oldest child, and only daughter to a single mother, I always strive to give back to the next generation of higher-education-bound POC students in any way that I can. So far, I've interned for Pilipinx Academic Student Services on campus to provide Pilipinx students with the resources they'll need to succeed in higher education. Whether through facilitating bilingual after-school enrichment lessons for Filipino elementary students, or volunteering to mentor Filipino high school seniors through their college applications, I've learned so much about how vital our work is in our community. I'm also the Marketing Director in a pre-professional Pilipinx club to help diversify the corporate sphere. I realize there's so much left to be done; however, I hope that these efforts to boost Filipino representation in higher education help at least one student feel like they belong on campus. Because a win for one of us is a win for all of us.

Looking back, I consider myself lucky. All my best friends were Filipino, Seafood City was just down the street, and the local Philippine Independence Day Festival was the highlight of every summer. Growing up in a predominantly Filipino neighborhood in Southern California meant I never felt out of place. I didn't realize this privilege until I left my small town to go to college. By then, I already thought I had done the impossible: graduated during a pandemic and gotten accepted to a prestigious university against all odds. But upon arriving to campus, I felt lost in a sea of students, none of whom looked like me. That's when I found the Filipino community at Berkeley. There, I learned of our collective struggle as students of color in higher education through the phrase "Isang Bagsak." Translated as "One Fall", these words correlate to: "When one of us falls, we all fall. But when one of us rises, we all rise." As part of the 3% of Filipino students at this institution, I see it as my responsibility to lift as I climb. I understand that I am a product of my community, and I owe my current and future successes to it. As a low-income, Filipina woman, oldest child, and only daughter to a single mother, I always strive to give back to the next generation of higher-education-bound POC students in any way that I can. So far, I've interned for the Pilipinx Academic Student Services organization on campus to provide Pilipinx students with the resources they'll need to navigate and succeed in higher education. Whether that was through facilitating bilingual after-school enrichment lessons for Filipino elementary students, or volunteering to mentor Filipino high school seniors through their college application processes, I've learned so much about how vital our work is in our community. I'm also the Marketing Director in a pre-professional Pilipinx club to help demystify the corporate sphere for my fellow law and business students. I realize there's so much left to be done; however, I hope that these efforts to boost Filipino representation in higher education help at least one student feel like they belong on campus. Because a win for one of us is a win for all of us.