Educational Background: My Journey to Law School

My decision to apply to USF was like a birthday wish… a dream that lived in my mind but one I didn’t dare speak aloud for fear that it would not come true. A spur of the moment desire prompted by a free application email that the universe purposely put in my path. Looking back on my educational experiences, I have a newfound gratitude for the support system given to me by my educators some of whom I consider to be my family. I went to an elementary school that was and currently still is 90% comprised of minority students 86% of which are considered to be economically disadvantaged and a public high school with equal ratings. In Kindergarten I was given a test which qualified me for the “gifted and talented” (GT) classes. These classes were designed to separate students who were at a higher level of educational performance and provided them with the extra (highly limited) resources the school district had. This advantage played a large role in my ability to advance through the structural educational system that had not been as compassionate and supportive to the rest of my family.

What set these classes apart from the others was in part the resources and stimulative creative projects but more importantly the feeling of worthiness poured into us. Our ability to succeed was determined by our performance on a standardized test which equated to our educators believing “we had what it took” and giving us the support and encouragement needed to accomplish whatever goal we had in mind for ourselves. Admission into the GT classes came with a level of trust, acceptance, and empowerment not given to my peers. In middle school this support continued being labeled as a “pre-AP” student rather than a gifted and talented one but being given the same level of preferential treatment. Pre-AP students were expected to advance, and our community did whatever they could to make that happen. Having gone through both GT and pre-AP classes, pursuing a degree of higher education was within the realm of possibility for me. In comparison, other students were being encouraged their skillsets would be better utilized in the toxic petroleum industry which almost single handedly funded our school district (Exxon Mobil) or other blue-collar jobs which demanded a high level of manual labor and physical exhaustion. Others who had the desire to pursue a higher education but wouldn’t qualify academically for the scholarships needed to do so were harassed into joining the military as an end to a means.

In eighth grade, I applied to our school districts newly established early college high school which aimed to bridge the gap low-income students of color faced in access to well-rounded education. The main qualification of enrollment was that neither of your parents could have pursued any degree of higher education. The aim was to provide students who would have normally not been expected to purse postsecondary enrollment (aka students that weren’t expected to go to college due to lack of resources). Once admitted, we were given a hefty scholarship which covered the cost of tuition, books, and supplies at our partnered community college (Lee College) as we worked towards earning both our high school diploma and associates degree simultaneously. Being put in a college class at the age of 16 and expected to exude a certain level of maturity and responsibility was an immense amount of pressure. I was surrounded by students who were equally desperate to break the generational curses we were faced with through our educational achievement and watched as this burden took a hold on all of us. Having access to this opportunity afforded me praise and acknowledgement from my community which in turn equated to stress and determination in an effort to live up to these standards. As a result, I had constant panic attacks struggling to find the balance between high school, college, my part-time job, being an active community service member, and being a teenager. My sense of self was innately tied to my level of academic achievement. I remember feeling worthless, undeserving, and incompetent because I didn’t have a 5.0+ GPA and wasn’t ranked in the top 10 like all my close friends. Don’t get me wrong I still graduated with a 3.7 GPA from high school, Cum Laude in relation to my associates degree, and with over 500 community services hours (self shout out which gives you an idea of how high my internal standards were and the amount of pressure and criticism I placed upon myself). However, unlike my peers, I was unwilling to allow an academic institution to continue to deplete all of my energy, but this decision did not come lightly.

One day during my senior year of high school I fled class consumed with anxiety and took sanctuary in my car which was parked in the on-campus parking lot. As soon as I closed the door behind me tears fled through my eyelids and I began to hyperventilate. I sat there alone and afraid crying uncontrollably and watched as my body tensed up and my hands became numb. At some point, I managed to call my mom and she listened powerless over the phone as I gasped for breath and experienced one of my most painful emotional responses of my life. Desperate to alleviate my pain she called my school nurse who later came to my car and guided me through breathing practices until the panic attack eventually subsided. I was escorted to the nurses’ offices and was instructed to lie down under a weighted blanket until my body was able to regulate itself.

That night my mother sat down with me and explained to me that nothing - not even an education - was worth putting my body through that level of stress and anguish. She told me that my self-worth is not and never had been tied to my academic success which gave me a sense of relief I wasn’t aware I needed. As a daughter of a single mother immigrant, my mother rarely had heart to heart conversations with us so seeing the fear and tears in her eyes during this conversation is a memory that will forever be engrained in my brain. It felt as if she were pleading for me to value myself not as a student but as an individual. This pivotal moment alleviated the burden of academic achievement that had been constantly increasing since being labeled as a GT student in kindergarten. That day felt as if an overdrive switch had finally been turned off and I was free to just be a student without the weight of an entire community upon my back. I stopped pouring all my energy into school and began pouring some into myself for a change. I stopped “killing myself for the grade” because I realized my self-worth amounted to more than a letter grade on an academic transcript.

Later that year, (March 2020) my classmates and I left for our spring break of senior year unaware it would be the end of our senior year entirely. Graduating during a global pandemic is an experience I would have never imagined, nor will I ever forget. The graduating class of 2020 was stripped of the typical senior year experience: prom, yearbook, summer vacations, and a proper commencement ceremony. On top of that, early college high school students, nearly all of whom were the first in their families to have obtained an associate degree, were also stripped of the monumental sense of gratification walking across the stage offered. We had the unique experience of beginning our undergraduate education completely remote which proved to be a hard adjustment for many. I remember feeling so frustrated and defeated that not only had this pandemic cost me my senior year experience but was now bleeding into my undergraduate experience as well. At that time, I had aspirations of attending Texas State and spent months watching dorm tours on YouTube and mentally planning my own… full of joy and excitement thinking about what college life would look like. After being informed this would not be possible due to the pandemic, I was crushed. When I complained to my mom she said, “everything happens for a reason, the universe has a plan” and I remember being HIGHLY unsatisfied with this answer.

A few weeks after being informed I wouldn’t be able to live on campus at Texas State, I received a call from a program director at the University of Houston-Downtown (shoutout Mr. Kuzmick). He informed me he was in charge of recruiting students for the 2021 Greater Texas Foundation (GTF) scholars’ cohort which was a program established to support early college students who came from low income “historically underserved student populations” successfully complete a baccalaureate degree. Apparently, not as many early college students were continuing their education at a university and so the program was kinda like a branch off to further support these students during undergrad academically, financially, and emotionally. Mr. Kuzmick explained the numerous benefits this program afforded to enrolled scholars and labeled me as a “golden candidate” for a spot in the cohort. Honestly, my decision to accept the offer came mainly from the fact that I would only have to pay a fraction of tuition costs. I would have never imagined the unconditional support and guidance that would be offered not only by the institution but by the program director himself.

During this time, I was undergoing my transition both medically and legally and learning how to navigate life on my own at the age of 18. I remember texting Mr. Kuzmick on a random Sunday at 7pm questions regarding my legal name change as it related to the academic setting and being given a response with no hesitation. Although nearly all of our relationship was virtual, the level of genuine love Mr. Kuzmick emitted could be felt. He was the kind of individual who would do anything and EVERYTHING in his power to help you succeed. He got me through two of the most difficult years of my academic experience not only on an academic level but on an emotional level as well. I remember early into my gender transition I was feeling extremely gender dysphoric around the time we were required to submit our headshots of ourselves in our GTF polos for the GTF scholar’s website. I was too scared to order the men’s shirt, so I was painfully forced to wear the women’s polo which accentuated my boobs in a way that made me SICK. After crying over the picture, I reluctantly sent it to Mr. Kuzmick and he replied “Great pic! What a beautiful smile” bringing me to tears. Experiences like these and others I’ve shared with other educators throughout my academic journey gave me a level of expectation of support I hadn’t yet acknowledged the dire need for until it was gone. Thanks in large part to the GTF scholars’ foundation, I was able to graduate undergrad $0 in debt with a 4.0 receiving the honorary recognition of GTF Graduate of the Year and the Outstanding Academic Achievement Award in addition to many others.

As I reflect on my academic journey, I am reminded of all the wonderful support I was surrounded by. Educators who were determined to provide me with the opportunities they knew I deserved even when I didn’t feel worthy of them myself. Individuals who reminded me of my potential when I struggled to see it myself… I am grateful for all the individuals who played a part in getting me to where I am today… for believing in me. On the flip side, I am also reminded of the pain I endured existing in these institutions that weren’t always kind to me. The educators who doubted me because of how they perceived me. My first-grade teacher who told me there was no way I would make it to the Accelerated Readers party (I did), my high school teacher who accused me of plagiarizing because my essay was “too well written”, the director of an academic support program -designed for my success- who completely dismissed my lived experiences and made me feel undeserving of an education, and an academic committee who was so painfully unequipped to understand individuals with lived experiences that differ from their own that they disvalued these experiences… these individuals … who disvalued me.

My senior year of undergrad, I was afforded an opportunity to intern with the Harris County Probation department as a forensic analyst with the ability to be hired on full-time upon graduation depending on my success in the role. I was the youngest staff member in the department and was given the responsibility of training incoming new hires in my department within two weeks of being hired on as a full-time employee. This was hands down one of the most beneficial learning experiences I’ve had thus far. Raised in a household where every member of my immediate family had been directly impacted by the criminal legal system, being able to be on the other side with those lived experiences, allowed me to excel in this position. I had clients open up to me and give me a level of trust and vulnerability not typically exuded throughout criminal related proceedings. They trusted me not because of my achievements or academic accreditations but because of my lived experiences which allowed me to connect with them on an intimate level. Working in that role afforded me the opportunity to cultivate an understanding of the level of emotional disconnect and dehumanization that occurs in response to a wrongdoing. I had so many clients tell me I was the first person to ask about their perspective without judgement. I listened to their stories and tried to pour as much light into them as I could throughout the assessment. I gave value to their existence and compassion to their outward expression of generational pain and suffering. I restored a sense of humanity stripped of them upon entering the system of mass incarceration.

Fueled by interactions with my clients and the ongoing legislative attacks on the trans community by Governor Gregg Abbott and the president of the United States, I felt obligated to apply to law school. For me law school was more than a means of furthering my education, it was the opportunity to equip myself with the knowledge and confidence needed to fight for my civil rights. Navigating the process of applying to law school was MUCH more stressful and expensive than I had imagined. Discouraged by my lack of understanding and perceived ability to successfully comprehend the logical reasoning portion of the LSAT, I had pretty much given up on being accepted the fall following my undergrad graduation. At that time, I was also undergoing my medical transition and had just moved into a new apartment in an effort to avoid the constant pain of being misgendered and dead named by my family. Being the procrastinator that I am, I left studying for the LSAT until about the week before I was scheduled to take the test and mentally given up hope on scoring well enough to be admitted into any law school. Honestly, I was going to cancel the test, but I had already paid for it and paid an EXTRA $200 or however much it is just to have it rescheduled after an unexpected opening for surgery became available so I figured I might as well take the damn thing and if nothing else it provided me with first-hand experience on what to expect. I remember the day I was scheduled to take the test I had just moved out and didn’t have any furniture in my room and I was still recovering from my gender affirming surgery. My roommate rolled the only piece of furniture we had in our apartment (a dining room table we found for a STEAL on offer up) into my room so that I could have a spot to take the test. As I was taking the test I laughed as I guessed my way through every single logical reasoning question having NO IDEA what the question was asking for or how to solve it. I felt so silly for thinking I was anywhere NEAR prepared enough to take this test but having no regrets. A few weeks later I had received my score and was pleasantly surprised to see I had scored a 149… NO CLUE how. I quickly googled which law schools would accept a 149 and unsurprisingly didn’t find many options. I could only afford to apply to one law school, so I applied to the South Texas College of Law with the score that I had and figured if I got in it was meant to be and if not then it was the universe telling me it was time for a break. At some point, I had received an email from USF extending me an offer to apply for free and after learning how expensive law school applications were I figured what the hell why not at least try… little did I know what was to come.

I remember being nervous to tell my mom I was thinking of applying at a school so far away unaware of what her reaction would be. To my surprise she acknowledged all the benefits living in a “diverse” city such as San Francisco would offer and above that, the safety. At this point, I hadn’t yet considered what it was like to be the parent of a trans child and the constant feeling of danger that came with it. I remember my mom frantically calling me or my roommates if I took too long to respond to her texts but didn’t understand the fear she had that her kid might be lying dead somewhere because in the current political climate, their existence was being viewed as a threat. At first, I was a little hurt by the level of support and encouragement she gave me to pursue this but reflecting back I have a newfound appreciation on her parenting practices. Later she admitted how nervous and scared she was for me moving so far away from home but knew it was an essential learning experience and she didn’t want to transfer her anxieties onto me.

On the day of the admissions deadline, I stayed up all night writing my personal statement and submitted my application mintues before midnight. A couple weeks later I got a call from the USF law admission recruiter informing me of my acceptance and asking for a $750 down payment. When I got the call, I had just arrived at my Tia Toni’s house to visit my grandma who had been diagnosed with cancer literally the day before. I hung up the phone in shock. I realized I had never imagined what it would be like if I had actually got accepted. I had no idea how student loans worked and was told I would be unable to work my first year due to the rigorous academic course load. In addition to that, I had just signed a lease on a new apartment and did not have enough money to pay the necessary deposit. But, it felt like a sign from the universe and I remember thinking if all the white kids could do it, so could I.

My parents always instilled in me the that I had the power to do whatever I wanted in this life as long as I had enough dedication, heart, and faith to get me through. They showed me the value of lived experience and emphasized the value of growth through each journey. I come from a family of dreamers … a generation of manifestors each one paving the way for the next. This was an opportunity to break generational curses… to use my lived experiences and visibility as a representation of hope for my community. With less than a week to deliberate, I decided to accept the offer.