Conquering spaces
As I enter the second half of the spring semester, I have come to the conclusion that the unofficial stereotype for most “first and onlys” is that we love to overcommit ourselves, no matter how unhealthy it might be for us. Moreover, we fear that our work products will be scrutinized under a microscope for total perfection, and therefore, in utter exhaustion, we try our best to make everything perfect. It's an endless game of progression and regression. In her memoir, First Gen: A Memoir, author Alejandra Campoverdi provides an insightful analogy for this "first and onlys" phenomenon in Chapter Five, "Crash into Me." Campoverdi compares this experience to the children's board game Chutes and Ladders, capturing the unpredictable rises and setbacks encountered by those navigating uncharted paths.
Although I am not a social scientist, it seems possible that our obsession with overcommitting could be based on the complexity of our backgrounds, specifically, an unintentional response to the constant reminder that we, as “first and onlys,” are often outsiders in the spaces we occupy. We are so used to being naturally excluded from certain social circles that when we have earned an opportunity to enter a new space, whether that is our first office job or attending college, we feel the need to integrate ourselves by proving to others that without any doubt we are worth the space we conquer. These feelings are very powerful. They can shape our self-perception of our overall worth. The most empowering tools I have utilized to combat these feelings are working on my individual acceptance and seeking a broader community of people who can relate to me.
Individual acceptance requires “first and onlys” to reflect deeply on their personal sense of belonging. As someone about to enter their last year of law school, I expected this time to be an opportunity to reflect on my achievements – but it has proven otherwise. Admittedly, these last few weeks have been an overwhelming period filled with constant stress and depression. I have been trying my best to balance my personal life with my obligations in law school, but it has been challenging.
Like many of my fellow “first and onlys” 2L classmates, we, as law students, are asked to balance class participation with completing assignments and projects, and attending meetings for the various clubs and organizations we are involved in while trying our best to maintain the little bit of social life we have left. Despite our meticulous time management, the volume of responsibilities leaves us feeling stretched too thin. Dealing with personal relationships and family losses only complicates our experiences. And as the semester goes on, we start to burn out from the constant stress and pressure, like a candle reaching its limit, trying its best to keep its flame burning.
Consequently, the aftereffect of being burned out makes an individual question whether or not they deserve to be in a particular space. In moments of vulnerability, it makes me wonder if I’m in the right place, asking myself, “Am I actually deserving, or am I just really good at lying to myself?”
However, the recognition of other “first and onlys” pushes me forward. Ironically, as I have learned this semester, “first and onlys” can find solidarity in knowing that these feelings of self-doubt are collectively shared among us, no matter what stage of our professional development we are in. Whether you’re an incoming first-year student preparing for college, an admitted student excited to start law school, or even a seasoned law student just trying to make it through the semester, we doubt ourselves, but long for integration and the acknowledgment of others that we are deserving of our place at the table. For me, the community of Latinx attorneys, judges, professors, and students that I have met these last few years has supported my process of self-awareness, allowing me to be more comfortable with my own resilience, even in spaces that were not traditionally designed with “first and onlys” in mind.
Last Friday, I attended the Cruz Reynoso Bar Association’s Annual meeting as one of only three law students. The association aims to create a community among licensed attorneys and students under the values of the late Justice Cruz Reynoso, California’s Supreme Court's first Chicano Justice. I saw firsthand the pride in the eyes of total strangers when I described the background that made my achievements possible. These individuals, some of whom had shared similar life experiences, collectively acknowledged me as worthy of my title of a law student. Having local lawyers, judges, and King Hall professors offer to be a resource if I ever needed it, truly recentered me, canceling my insecurities. Their willingness to mentor and share their insights, or even just listen, was reassuring. It reminded me that I belong in this profession by affirming my capabilities. Knowing that experienced members of the legal community were invested in my success has motivated me to approach challenges with renewed confidence and determination.
Through sharing my experience, I assert the necessity of growing and strengthening our “first and onlys” community. Expanding representation for underrepresented groups of “first and onlys,” can only actively reinforce our collective strength as a community. I call on all “first and onlys” who occupied spaces in the professional and the academic world, not to forget that as new generations enter our spaces, we are responsible for welcoming them with open arms and teaching them to do the same.
Individual acceptance requires “first and onlys” to reflect deeply on their personal sense of belonging. As someone about to enter their last year of law school, I expected this time to be an opportunity to reflect on my achievements – but it has proven otherwise. Admittedly, these last few weeks have been an overwhelming period filled with constant stress and depression. I have been trying my best to balance my personal life with my obligations in law school, but it has been challenging.
Like many of my fellow “first and onlys” 2L classmates, we, as law students, are asked to balance class participation with completing assignments and projects, and attending meetings for the various clubs and organizations we are involved in while trying our best to maintain the little bit of social life we have left. Despite our meticulous time management, the volume of responsibilities leaves us feeling stretched too thin. Dealing with personal relationships and family losses only complicates our experiences. And as the semester goes on, we start to burn out from the constant stress and pressure, like a candle reaching its limit, trying its best to keep its flame burning.
Consequently, the aftereffect of being burned out makes an individual question whether or not they deserve to be in a particular space. In moments of vulnerability, it makes me wonder if I’m in the right place, asking myself, “Am I actually deserving, or am I just really good at lying to myself?”
However, the recognition of other “first and onlys” pushes me forward. Ironically, as I have learned this semester, “first and onlys” can find solidarity in knowing that these feelings of self-doubt are collectively shared among us, no matter what stage of our professional development we are in. Whether you’re an incoming first-year student preparing for college, an admitted student excited to start law school, or even a seasoned law student just trying to make it through the semester, we doubt ourselves, but long for integration and the acknowledgment of others that we are deserving of our place at the table. For me, the community of Latinx attorneys, judges, professors, and students that I have met these last few years has supported my process of self-awareness, allowing me to be more comfortable with my own resilience, even in spaces that were not traditionally designed with “first and onlys” in mind.
Last Friday, I attended the Cruz Reynoso Bar Association’s Annual meeting as one of only three law students. The association aims to create a community among licensed attorneys and students under the values of the late Justice Cruz Reynoso, California’s Supreme Court's first Chicano Justice. I saw firsthand the pride in the eyes of total strangers when I described the background that made my achievements possible. These individuals, some of whom had shared similar life experiences, collectively acknowledged me as worthy of my title of a law student. Having local lawyers, judges, and King Hall professors offer to be a resource if I ever needed it, truly recentered me, canceling my insecurities. Their willingness to mentor and share their insights, or even just listen, was reassuring. It reminded me that I belong in this profession by affirming my capabilities. Knowing that experienced members of the legal community were invested in my success has motivated me to approach challenges with renewed confidence and determination.
Through sharing my experience, I assert the necessity of growing and strengthening our “first and onlys” community. Expanding representation for underrepresented groups of “first and onlys,” can only actively reinforce our collective strength as a community. I call on all “first and onlys” who occupied spaces in the professional and the academic world, not to forget that as new generations enter our spaces, we are responsible for welcoming them with open arms and teaching them to do the same.
posted by C.A.L. @ March 09, 2025
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