Pause. Think of where you are. Think of how simply lucky you are. Pause. And be grateful.
I just wrapped up my first year of my PhD. And I can't help but to feel a bag of emotions. Happiness, determination, anger, but one rises above them all: gratefulness.
When I moved out of my apartment in the South Westside of Chicago, I opened a new chapter of my life with a new identity: a first-generation college student. I went through college and every year that part of me became more integral to who I was. At first, it filled me with a feeling of not-belonging. Especially when seemingly everyone around me shared experiences, except me. Everyone, more or less, had the same background, and when I talked about my upbringing in an attempt to connect and share. I felt their uncomfortableness. But then I came to realize, that I should be proud. Be proud of making it this far, in-spite of…
So I let that feeling of empowerment guide me, and it pushed me further than I ever thought I could go. And now as a PhD student, I want to pause. Not stop, but pause and be grateful.
Both my parents are from México, they didn't have the opportunity to attend high school. They each had to work and support their family. They weren't given the privilege of education. Yet despite that, when they had kids in the US. Education is all they selflessly wanted for their kids. I remember my parents telling me as a child: "You are going to College". I didn't really know what college was, but only a foolish child says no to a stern statement from their parents. So I went to college, the experience subsequently changed me. It forced me to grow, become stronger and gave me the opportunities that I have today. Of which, I intend to fully take a hold of.
But it could've all been so different.
I have a cousin in México. He is two years older than me. I remember whenever we would visit México. We would play with Bionicles, and he would show me around the village. It was so different from my apartment in Chicago. We'd walk all day talking and laughing, while also watching for any stray dogs. We'd pass by the house pick up my mom and aunt and then, for only a couple of pesos, go to the nearby market and walk past guards with rifles to buy conchas and come back home.
Fundamentally, there is nothing different from me and my cousin in México. The only difference is that my mom risked immigrating to a new country and a city where Spanish wasn't spoken by everyone and where racism surely existed. Yet, fast-forwarding to now, roughly 10 years later. He and I are living very different lives.
He is a migrant worker who on a seasonal basis comes to California to work in the field for wealthy landowners. Working in conditions that are in no doubt hard. He has a daughter now, and much like everyone else in the village is pre-diabetic, and will likely soon be diabetic. This because coca-cola is cheaper and more prevalent than water.
I am a PhD Biomedical Engineering student working on novel technology with a wealth of opportunities. Am I better than my cousin? No. Am I more deserving of the framework of opportunities that I had to get me to where I am today? Absolutely not. What I am is lucky to have had the opportunities given to me, so that my hard work would pay off. And if you are reading this, odds are you also have a framework of opportunities that can enable you to succeed.
In Little Village, the neighborhood on the South Westside of Chicago I grew up in. Shootings are brushed off. That's what occurs when it happens so frequently. You become calloused to it, in order to survive. Growing up, I never thought it odd to hear people fighting outside of my apartment. Or to hear the occasional gunshot. Or to learn of another shooting and avoid wearing certain colors, such that I am not confused as a Latin King or Two-Six gang member.
Then I moved, read about the world. Heard other experiences and was forever changed. Because it wasn't normal. It shouldn't ever be seen as normal.
This past year, one of the shootings that made it to the news cycle was on Halloween. A little girl was trick-or-treating and was shot. She was seven. The shooter 15. Both sides of the shooting are tragic. The little girl deserved to enjoy a childhood with no gunshot wounds, and the young teenager didn't deserve an environment that would lead him to such actions. Luckily, she survived and recovered. But it made me remember; because she wasn't the only one. Another young boy two years ago was shot riding his bike. And plenty of others had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. So what separates me and everyone else from those caught in the cross-fire? Absolutely nothing.
Many of us have tremendous opportunities in our life, and the vast majority of us are not caught in the cross-fire. Yet only some, have the courage to take those opportunities.
At first, all of this filled me with anger. Anger because I wanted everyone in my neighborhood to know how not normal it is. Anger because I wished I could go back in time and find some way to give my cousin and even my parents the opportunities that I have. But that anger only leads to agony, so instead, I choose to be grateful.
Grateful to have had a chance at an education and pursue my dreams at multiple universities. But most importantly, I am grateful for where I come from. Because I love the culture and neighborhood that I grew up in. I love the fact that I have been given the chance to learn the perspective of my parents and visit my family in México. Because now, no matter how far I go. I will always remember those most often forgotten and pushed aside. And that, the spirit of my family and people, will give me more strength than anger or any other emotion ever could.
Or as more quickly put by Kendrick Lamar, "That's why I do the best I can, because I know how blessed I am."