I am a first-generation law student. Technically, I wasn’t a first-generation college student as my mom attended college and nursing school online when I was a kid, and my dad earned his degree just a few years ago. But in many ways, I still shared the first-generation experience.
Both of my parents pursued their education later in life after I was born. My mom juggled nursing school while raising three kids, often on her own while my dad was deployed with the U.S. Army. My dad, too, worked tirelessly to build a career, and just last year, he was promoted to Sergeant Major while simultaneously earning his master’s degree. Watching them push forward, despite the odds, left a lasting impact on me.
My parents were teen parents. College and careers weren’t something they had been raised to think about and they were the least of their parents’ worries. But they were smart students, great athletes, and heavily involved in extracurriculars. They practically raised themselves before raising three kids and eventually, a fourth, born 11 years later in 2016.
They broke
generational cycles: poverty, alcoholism, and the expectation of staying in the same place. But breaking cycles isn’t just about moving forward; it often comes with hard choices. Both of my parents are Native American from different tribes, and they met at a powwow. Being
Native comes with deep ties to the land, community, and traditions.
But as my parents built a better life for themselves, they moved farther from their reservations and the people they grew up with. Their success wasn’t always celebrated with some family members seeing their new lifestyle as my parents thinking they were “better” now that they had financial stability. They were often asked for money, as if they owed it. But when they were teenagers, pregnant and struggling, no one was there to guide them. No one told them what was best for their future. They had to figure it out on their own.
In First Gen: A Memoir, Alejandra Campoverdi talks about those referred to as “First and Only” defined as the first or only person in their community to cross a significant threshold. But with that comes what she calls the Trailblazer Toll. One part of that toll is breakaway guilt that develops with the feeling of having to prove your family’s sacrifices were worth it while grappling with the reality of having more financial security than your loved ones.
This
post by AKJ discusses breakaway guilt and the trailblazer toll in more detail.
I felt that tension growing up watching as my parents created a future they never had, while also seeing the weight they carried because of it. Now, as a first-generation law student, I carry that same drive. My parents always believed in my future, and college was always part of the plan.
But they couldn’t provide much guidance on the
hidden curriculum—the unwritten rules of higher education. They didn’t know about applications, campus life, or preparing for in-person classes. I like many first gen students learned those things from
TV shows, movies, online research, and the occasional tip from a friend’s parent who had been to college. My mom only considered college because her
wealthier friends were encouraged to apply. Without that push, she may have never pursued nursing.
This
post by SC goes into depth on the struggles often faced by first gens new to a college environment.
I had that encouragement, but in many ways, I felt like I was looking through a glass window—seeing the possibilities but unsure how to reach them. The first-generation experience doesn’t disappear in one generation. Even as one generation makes it better for the next, the effects linger.
Campoverdi notes that “there are thousands of people in each of our family lineages, and their emotional experiences leave a mark on us.”
As a Native American, I often reflect on my ancestors and the trauma they endured. My great-grandmother and great-aunties survived residential boarding schools. That history isn’t distant, it echoes through my family. Progress beyond the reservation is difficult to imagine for many in my tribe because, for so long, the outside world was the enemy. That generational trauma still shapes us.
Campoverdi describes how being a “First and Only” means being forced to survive, and if you are good at surviving, the gap between where you came from and where you are now can feel even larger. But she also describes first-gens as the bridge—stretched from where we come from to where we hope to arrive. In many ways, my parents built that bridge for me.
I like to think one day someone else looking through the glass window won’t feel lost because I’ll be there to give them the answers I once searched for. And I like to think I will continue to create a path on the bridge.
