What it's Like: Contemplating grad school as a Latina

 I didn't think it would end up this way. If you asked 5-year-old me who I would become when I grew up, I would have said a mother and a wife. Well, a wife first and then a mother. Definitely not the other way around. I'd go to hell if I become a mother before being married. If you asked 14-year-old me, who I would be, I would have said a traveler and a rich career woman. I might be a doctor or a surgeon. I would be successful and I wouldn't need a man, and who cares if there is a heaven or hell. I went to university. For the first time in my life, I got a C my very first semester in my pre-med course. How was I supposed to be a doctor if I couldn't even do well in the intro course? I guess I wasn't who I thought I was after all. I ended up changing my major to computer science instead of biology. "Tech is cool too right? I can still be that rich career woman I thought I'd be" I thought. 

I remember seeing an ad in university for an informational meeting for those interested in attending grad school. There would be free pizza. I thought about what kind of ultra intelligent, try-hard nerd would aspire to attend grad school. I mean, you had to be super smart for that kind of stuff. During my last semester of university, I applied to PhD programs. I wasn't ultra intelligent, but I was a try-hard. I didn't know anyone else that applied to grad school. 

I'm Latina. My family was teetering right at the poverty line when I was growing up. Often we were under that line. All of our family friends were in the same condition. Being undocumented makes it hard to get a well paying job, and most of the people in our community fit that description. "People like me don't go to grad school. People like me don't even graduate college. God, some of my friends didn't even graduate high school, how am I going to grad school? Surely, I won't get accepted." I thought. I made plans to live with my grandma in Mexico after completing my undergrad.

 I got accepted into two PhD programs. One of which was my first choice. There was only one other Latino in the PhD program who happened to be a guy. No one there looked like me. Everyone seemed so smart and dedicated. "I'm not cut out for that. Surely, I'll fail." I thought. And I almost did actually. I got my second ever C my first semester. My first year was really tough. I contemplated quitting. Then, I was awarded a highly competitive, national fellowship. "Well, can't quit now". 

Now that I am approaching my third year of the PhD program, I think of what it'll be like when my advisor inevitably fires me as her student. Or when I fail to defend my dissertation. For some reason, that doesn't scare me. I'm doing what I want to be doing, and that's all that really matters to me right now. Don't get me wrong, if I get the degree, that'll be a huge achievement. I'm studying how to improve the lives of people like me: low-income Latinos. If I can do that, then for me, I have done enough. 

I know I should aspire for more. I should aim to change the status quo and reinvent my field, all while shattering glass ceilings in the process, as if the ceiling wasn't already shattered. I am tired of proving myself to other people, and the more I prove myself, the further I get from who I was. I feel like an outsider to my those who used to be my community. At the same time, I am proud of my accomplishments. It's not a bad thing, but isn't this enough? It's a peculiar feeling.