"Dont Pass Me By"

Recently, our class was assigned an excerpt from Janet Mock's memoir, Redefining Realness. Mock, a transgender woman, discussed her struggles finding herself while navigating the preconceived definitions other people had set for her. 

The excerpt was amazing, and I immediately added the book to my Goodreads list. Still, there was one quote that Mock wrote that really hit home: "When I think of identity, I think of our bodies and souls and the influences of family, culture, and community. . ."  Though I don't share Mock's struggles, it was something about her writing that drew me into her memoir. 

And that's when I realized what it was.  

I had just returned from visiting my family in L.A. and was hit with both writer's block and fatigue, having driven six painful hours on the 99 freeway running through California's Central Valley. My wife was soundly asleep in the passenger seat, taking her role as "passenger princess," and my dog was curled up in his bed in the rear seat, sleeping to the white noise of the rumbling freeway as we crawled our way back home. 

And then there's me, having drunk two mini Coke cans for a little sugar rush and blasting my Spotify, skipping through songs, trying to find the ones where I can belt out my best "Carpool Karaoke" performances for my non-existent fans. In between songs, watching the white reflectors on the highway take the form of little fireflies in the distance, I had come to terms with why I was sad about leaving. 

Maybe it was Mock's quote or Bad Bunny's latest hit "DtMF", but somewhere in between that time, I realized I am a product of my experiences, struggles, and all. This was not helped by the fact that I just borrowed a copy of Michelle Obama's memoir, Becoming, from a great friend of mine, only for the prologue to say the exact same thing. 

For me, the hardest part about visiting home isn't the drive or the past memories of my hardships; it's the reality that life goes on. Every time I see my siblings, they're also growing up, forging their own paths, and it feels like a time machine where life just fast forwards in front of you. As Ringo Starr eloquently puts it, "don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue..."

Earlier, I alluded to Bad Bunny's song "DtMF" from his latest album "DeBI TiRAR MaS FOToS." The album itself is an homage to past generations of Puerto Rico, and according to NPR, features political messages against the gentrification of the island. The song, which shares the name of the album, translates to "I should have taken more photos," a sentiment most of us share when we get nostalgic, remembering the past. 

Listening to the album on the drive and reading Mock's memoir made me realize that first-gen students can be defined by their struggles to obtain higher education. Some of us have lived through a combination of traumatic experiences, poverty, and impostor syndrome. Going through the motions and feeling forced to write about these experiences can make us feel like these struggles define us. As Elijah Megginson wrote for the New York Times in a guest essay, "trauma is one of life's teachers. We are molded by it, and some will choose to write about it urgently, passionately." However, Megginson offers an alternative approach, and that is to "... open your mind to all the other things you can offer in life..."

When I first thought about being labeled a first-gen student, it was always to relive my hardships, be defined by my cultural struggles, and the lack of generational wealth. Being in this class taught me that being first gen has come with so many advantages that weren't wrapped in adversity.

For one, it's meeting new people, each with their own unique stories and experiences, learning how we all came to be in the same seminar from completely different paths in life, but with similar stories. It's the feeling of cultural identities and coalition building where I feel proud of where I'm from, but also have learned to appreciate the little things that come with living in a smaller town like Davis. 

Meeting all of my classmates in this seminar has led me to appreciate my life experiences for what they were. Sure, there were hardships and adversity, but there was also good sprinkled there every now and then. From appreciating Grand Central Market for its culture before being gentrified, to visiting the Flower District every other weekend for a new set of flowers, I realized I was fortunate to have lived through those experiences in the first place. Without them, I would not be the person writing this blog or the person you see in the hallways of King Hall. 

Those memories are why I get sad thinking about how I dwelled only on the adversity from my past and feel like life passed me by. My new outlook has me feeling happy while listening to what my family has been up to since I moved out, but also sad knowing I wasn't there to experience those memories. My life experiences have helped me look to the present, enjoy the moments while they last, and hug my loved ones despite the hardships because I don't know when I will get to see them again. It's the reason why I don't want to live a life with regrets of not being able to say "thank you for always watching the news and teaching me about current events," because I was too embittered by the fact that I wasn't raised in wealth. Without these moments, I wouldn't be here writing to you all about how I'm proud to be first gen, not because my struggles taught me my worth, but because of the happy memories I had getting to law school.