As a child, I would often ask my mom how painful childbirth was. She answered truthfully every time, saying that while it was extremely painful, my custody battle felt the same, if not worse. As I got older, my parents offered me full transparency in conversations. Every conversation led back to a singular point. My custody battle took money, time, and considerable effort from all family members involved. It wasn’t a quick fix. Being adopted within the family, it also intensified conflict between different family members. I knew that I was something to fight for. Deep down, though, I couldn’t view that as a blessing. Like most kids, I couldn’t understand everything, however, I could recognize that my story was different than others. I yearned to be connected to my mother and father in ways that other students easily did. To have someone’s hair, skin, or eyes, but not know the person is something I wrestled with for years. When other students gave their family tree presentations, I was lost in the complexity of knowing where I came from.
Self-identity was a topic that I grappled with for a long time. What I have come to learn throughout my undergraduate experience is that everyone has a story. It’s what they choose to do with it that makes up their values, strengths, and passions. I’ve known for years that I was at a disadvantage, and that I had a multitude of personal issues stemming from my childhood. I’ve also known for a long time that it was a large struggle in my life. However, nothing good can come from recognizing setbacks if there’s also not a dedication to growth.
Even though I grew up with a recognition of the personal battles my parents had to fight, it didn’t fully hit me until I was in college. They spent lots of time and money in a complex battle. Without support from legal guidance, or friends, they would’ve had it even harder. I know taking on representing a child or family is a huge responsibility, and it’s an urge I can’t seem to fill with anything else than the practice of law.
My life started in a courtroom, with someone advocating for me, and all my life, I’ve been searching for the ways that I can truly belong. When I decided to apply to law school, midway through college, while obtaining a business degree, to some people it was a surprise. To the people that knew me, it was aligned with the passion I have always had. Originally, family law was out of the question for me. It felt too vulnerable and personal. Months later, I came to realize that my story is my advantage. Not only will I be able to empathize with the battles clients are facing, but I’m passionate about it. Getting a law degree is the missing puzzle piece. It will help me to learn the knowledge and skills that I know I still lack, and further my sole mission. I only see my future in working with families. My entire story, the years of feeling displaced, the mental trials I’ve had to work through for the last 21 years, it all makes sense to me. It’s time for me to take the reign; to serve, and to represent people the way I was once represented.
All I want to do is learn how to advocate for people properly. Having the resources, I see it as a disservice to myself not to take advantage of that. Coming from someone who wasn’t even meant to go to college, much less a higher program, I feel extremely privileged to have been given a chance to change my destiny. I believe that knowledge is power; and I also hold the belief that power can create radical change for underrepresented groups. It took hard work to get to the point I am at today, however, that would not have been possible without an attorney who fought for me, my loving family that has always supported me, and the instructors over the years who poured into me.
I know this well: I was once that underrepresented child, but people took a chance on me. It is going to be my life’s work to take that same chance on myself and on my future clients. There is no alternative future.