The hardest lesson in advocacy: knowing when to step back

From Lost to Empowered

I did not always understand what it truly meant to be a first-generation college student. Stepping onto my undergraduate campus for the first time felt like entering a world designed for those with guidance from parents, siblings, or mentors who had already navigated this path. Instead, I had to figure things out on my own, constantly wondering if I was missing something important.

Thankfully, that changed a few weeks into my freshman year when I was selected for a retention program designed for first-generation and low-income students. At the time, I did not realize how much I needed it.

I once believed success was just about working harder, but this program showed me that access to resources made all the difference. It provided priority registration, free private tutoring, a quarterly book stipend, and, most importantly, a support system. I was no longer just surviving college; I was thriving.

That experience changed me. I realized how many first-generation students struggle not because they lack ability, but because they are navigating an unfamiliar system without the same safety nets as others. It also showed me the power of having a community that understands and supports you.

When I applied to law school, I knew I needed that same sense of belonging. I prioritized schools with strong first-generation support, places where students were not expected to figure everything out alone. At King Hall, I found that in the First Generation Advocates program.

When Advocacy Feels Impossible

I wish I could say that I joined the First Generation Advocates Student Board (FGASB), advocated for first-generation and low-income law students, and everything else fell into place. But that would be far from the truth.

Advocating for others is difficult, especially when you're struggling yourself. The truth is that I have struggled from the moment I walked into law school orientation. Law school was unlike anything I had experienced before. However, like always, I figured things out with time.

But nothing could have prepared me for this past semester.

FGASB had won an important award for its service, and I was chosen to deliver the acceptance speech on its behalf. I sat in my seat, nervously waiting for my turn to speak, when my phone buzzed. It was my brother.

“The landlords have decided to sell the house. We will need to move out soon.”

My mind went blank. For most, this news would be stressful. For me, it was a trigger.

I started spiraling, remembering the times we lived in transitional homelessness, the fear of losing everything again, and the uncertainty of what would happen next. Just as the thoughts became overwhelming, they called our organization’s name. I took a deep breath, walked up to the podium, and read the speech I had written just hours earlier.

I did not ask many people for help after that. I convinced myself I could handle it on my own. But a few weeks later, my dad suffered a major heart attack.

No warning signs. No time to prepare. Just a single phone call that changed everything.

I suddenly had so many doubts. I did not know if I would have to drop out in my final year of law school to support my family or if I would even make it to the end of the semester. I did not know how to advocate for myself, let alone for others.

Stepping Back to Move Forward

For so long, I believed that to be the best advocate for myself and others, I had to always be present, always be strong, and always have answers. One of the hardest lessons I have learned is that advocacy is not about doing everything alone. It is about knowing when to lean on others, when to delegate, and when to trust that the work will continue even if you need to rest.

1. Lean on Your Community

Advocacy is a collective effort. Just as I encourage others to seek support, I have to remind myself that I, too, deserve that same support.

Reaching out to trusted peers, mentors, and colleagues when things get overwhelming is not a sign of weakness. It is a way to sustain yourself so you can continue doing the work. 

First-generation advocacy exists because people have built communities that uplift and support each other. It is okay to be on the receiving end of that support sometimes.

2. Set Boundaries and Recognize Your Limits

When you are constantly advocating for others, it is easy to neglect your own needs. But pushing yourself beyond your limits does not make you a better advocate. It only leads to burnout.

Setting boundaries is not about disengaging. It is about being intentional with your energy. This can look like saying no to certain commitments, taking breaks when needed, or stepping back from leadership roles temporarily if life becomes too overwhelming.

3. Give Yourself Grace

One of the biggest challenges I have faced is learning to be kind to myself. When things in my personal life started falling apart, I felt like I was failing as an advocate because I was not able to give as much as I once did.

But advocacy is not about being perfect. It is about doing the best you can with the capacity you have. There will be seasons when you can give more and seasons when you need to take a step back. Both are okay.

Giving yourself grace means recognizing that you are human. It means recognizing that taking a break is sometimes the most responsible thing you can do, not just for yourself but for the people who rely on you.

Lessons for Law School and Beyond

Being a first-generation student comes with unique challenges. Trying to advocate for others while navigating those challenges makes it even harder. But stepping back when needed does not mean you care any less. It means making sure you can continue the work in a way that is healthy, sustainable, and impactful.

These lessons are not just about surviving law school. They are about building the resilience and awareness necessary to be an effective advocate in any setting, including as a future attorney. The best advocates are not the ones who never struggle. They are the ones who recognize their limits, know when to rest, and understand that advocacy is a long-term commitment that requires sustainability.

As I move forward in my career, I know that the same principles will continue to apply. To serve clients, support communities, and create meaningful change, I have to balance my dedication with self-care. The ability to step back when necessary is not a weakness. It is a skill that ensures I can continue advocating, not just for others, but for myself as well.

Do you even know how smart I am in another language?

"Do you even know how smart I am in Spanish?" 

Gloria is my favorite character in Modern Family, not just because she's funny but because she embodies what many of us, whose first language is not English, feel. I grew up speaking Cantonese and Mandarin with my immigrant parents and never felt embarrassed until I was told at school that my "English was weird."

Just like how Campoverdi, in her memoir, would duck down to "tie her shoelaces" when passing by her school to prevent others from seeing her in her abuelito's old car, I also would have my popo (grandma in Chinese) drop me off at the school's back entrance to prevent others from talking to her. I was ashamed that my grandma couldn't speak English to communicate with my teachers and that my parents were always busy working seven days a week. Whereas other people's parents were in attendance, helping out at every school function.

Seeing how my family members who couldn't speak fluent English were less respected and struggled to get opportunities, I bought into the idea that achieving the "American Dream" required complete assimilation into American culture, which meant English fluency. From then on, I spoke English whenever possible, even though it isolated me from the rest of my family.

The better my English got, the worse my Cantonese and Mandarin got. The way words are pronounced and the tonal changes in Chinese are drastically different than in English, let alone the written language. So, by becoming more fluent in English, I became more and more detached from the Chinese language, my culture, my family, and my identity. For many first and onlys, this is a common struggle because it appears to us that the fastest way to progress in our society is to "play the game right" by molding yourself into the type of person that you see benefiting the most socially and career-wise. 

It wasn't until I got to college, an environment much more diverse than the community in which I was raised, that I realized the error in my thinking. Meeting people from different states, countries, and socioeconomic backgrounds helped me learn the value of what makes me different than others. Being multilingual is a blessing in many ways. 

Living in the dorms with two roommates and a packed floor during my first year of college, I had little privacy. However, I could speak privately to my family in Chinese without having to leave the room. In job interviews, I can leverage my ability to connect with certain communities in our primary language. At restaurants, I can connect to servers and show them my appreciation for their food. 

Through these experiences, I became in touch with my identity as a Chinese-American again. However, something that still stumps me to this day is how certain languages and accents are more respected and valued. Despite a couple of my high school friends struggling with speaking broken English, they didn't face these same struggles. 

A recent conversation with a law school friend made me more curious about this phenomenon. We talked about how certain languages and accents have more positive connotations, like sounding more educated. For example, we have noticed that when someone speaks with a British accent, they are often perceived to be smarter or more attractive. When our friends spoke French, Italian, or other romance languages, their bilingualism was very admirable. 

Yet, I've been told in college to steer clear of certain professors with Indian accents, not because it's hard to understand the concepts they're teaching but because it's hard to understand what they're saying in general, a common trend not just in the United States. The stark differences in our experiences with those who speak in highly regarded accents or languages in American society are fascinating. I often hear about and see privilege in the context of being white, conventionally attractive, and wealthy, but I think this phenomenon is also notable.

I'm sure there are many underlying explanations, but what stands out most to me is that people like accents, languages, and people who are more similar to them but just different enough. Certain accents and languages are associated with disadvantaged and low-prestige minority groups and are less "standard." This makes them vulnerable to negative bias. For many first and onlys, this poses an additional challenge, along with all the other ones, to navigate.

Yet, we must not be discouraged because we need to remember that, despite our unique and different identities being our source of struggles, they're also what make us strong, resilient, and hardworking. So even if others don't know how "smart we are in Spanish," it doesn't matter because we, ourselves, know our capabilities. 

The value of the American Dream

It's date night, and of course, we get into one of the most heated topics a couple in the 21st century can endure. 

"What do you want to watch?" 

"I don't know, you pick."

Our back-and-forth between streaming services took longer than the actual movie. My wife decided to show me movies she grew up watching. She would ask me, "Have you seen this one?" Every time I answered in the negative, she would write it down on a list. Today, that list comprises her childhood movies like Step Up, Mean Girls, and Legally Blonde. 

Yes readers, a law student who has never seen Legally Blond color me shocked. 

In turn, I suggested some of my childhood movies, such as the Indiana Jones trilogy or The Beatles, Yellow Submarine. 

"Huh? Those old movies?" 

"Ahem, excuse you, ma'am, those old movies are classics. "

My wife grew up in a home with a huge DVD collection. I grew up with the VHS copies we found at yard sales, the Salvation Army, or the county library. 

This isn't to say her family didn't encounter their own struggles. Instead, they were at a different rung of the American Dream than my family. When I visited her childhood home, I felt small. Two stories, a garage not filled with junk, and most shocking, internal A/C! This is coming from a guy whose A/C system consisted of negotiating with my siblings to set a schedule to not trip our circuit breaker. 

At first, I was intimidated. I felt every time she came over she was in the poor house. But after beginning to take care of my mental health, I realized that her lifestyle wasn't a divider but a goal. 

The Washington Post article by Tara Parker-Pope discusses the comparisons of a "fixed vs. growth mindset." I was definitely in a fixed mindset going into undergrad. The dream of becoming a lawyer felt like a dim, flickering light at the end of a dark tunnel. When I overheard conversations about students using resources I had no idea about, it felt like that flickering light started to fade out. 

I hated how lost I felt. I was angry running the race miles behind the starting line. My fixed mindset had set my destination toward going nowhere. 

On top of my struggle to succeed in school, there was also the struggle to succeed in life. A study by the College Student Affairs Journal highlights the discrepancy first-generation students have with financial literacy. Speaking from personal experience, yeah that sounds about right. I was working while going to school at Target of all places. It's a cycle, you get your paycheck working in the electronics department and you think, "why not, I couldn't afford this as a kid." 

Next thing you know you're scrounging for hours to make ends meet but hey at least you have some AirPods to block out your guilt. 

Joshua Tree, CA

Feeling all the pressure to do good in school and learn how to budget weighed heavily on me. I found myself irritable and irresponsible. Until I started dating my wife. This New York Times article best explains the phenomenon that is "cross-class friendships." In essence, having kids from lower-income backgrounds mingle with kids from higher-income backgrounds benefits the financial prospects of low-income kids.

Being with my wife, I learned how to appreciate the value of things. How not to buy things on impulse and most importantly how to budget. She taught me how to budget and take care of the nicer things I could afford.

Throughout this post, I've included some pictures of my pair of Adidas Samba shoes I bought in 2018. These shoes were the first nice thing I bought for myself, since upgrading from Converse. Each picture is from the little road trips we went on because I learned how to save and budget. I still wear these shoes to this day and I would've never gone to these amazing places had it not been for my wife. 

Rosarito, Mexico

I am proof that "cross-class friendships" can improve the lives of others. I want others to learn that first-gen students can let down our ever-present guard to admit we need help and learn. I would have never learned the value of money had it not been for the lessons I learned from others. These pictures define who I am and what is possible "With a Little Help From My Friends." Sorry, but I had to make an obligatory Beatles reference, they were my childhood. 

I've come to learn financial literacy is the knowledge gained from family members who climbed the ladder of the American Dream. From those who painted their white picket fence for their kids. To other first-gen students out there who feel shame in not being financially literate, don't be hard on yourself. The deck has always been stacked against us since we got into the game. But remember, as first gens we have always been resourceful, and willing to learn! 

Monterey Bay, CA

While writing this blog, I found this YouTube video from TIME about how some notable people spent their first paycheck.