Trailblazer tolls: risks, rewards, costs, and benefits

Over the last week, I've been thinking a lot about the "blindfolded cliff jumping" metaphor Alejandra Campoverdi continuously uses in her memoir. Campoverdi uses the term to refer to the experience first-generation students have in breaking educational barriers. The phrase is meant to evoke feelings of danger, adrenaline, and possibility.

We all have different tolerance levels for risk. While I would never be personally comfortable taking on the level of risk Campoverdi describes in her journey to D.C., going to law school is still a risk. Choosing to be the First and Only in your family to pursue a higher level of education is daunting for a number of reasons. 

Being the First and Only in your family to go to law school is an intimidating financial risk. According to a survey conducted by the American Bar Association, the median amount of debt taken on by a law student is $112,000. I'm willing to bet this amount trends higher among First and Onlys, who often don't have the same familial wealth many other law students do to fund their education, nor do they have the same access to merit scholarships.

Honestly, I didn't realize the extent of the potential for debt coming in to law school. Or, I may have realized the extent of the debt but figured everyone graduating law school was handed out fancy, high-paying jobs immediately after graduation. 

Although the six-figure median salary ($106,744 in CA) for first year attorneys is a figure that would have impressed me previously, I'm not sure it is enough to justify the cost of law school. In fact, according to Education Data Initiative, an organization that provides research and resources to tackle the rising costs of higher education, less than half of new law school graduates say their education was worth the cost. In other words, the six-figure salary that might appear plentiful on the outside comes at a literal cost. 

Blindfolded cliff jumping isn't the only trailblazer toll. Being the First and Only also means you must leave home. Saying goodbye, even if it's temporary, is no easy thing to do. In order to pursue higher education, many of us are forced to leave our social support systems -- our friends and families -- that helped us get here. This affects us, but it also affects them. 

A few days ago, my best friend back home told me that she was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. Her test results were released to her, online, a day before her doctor's appointment. She opened them and told me what they said. The next morning, she had to walk into that appointment alone. That killed me.

Because I live four hundred miles away, there was nothing I could do. I wasn't able to hold her hand; I wasn't able to hug her and tell her everything was going to be okay; and I sure as hell wasn't able go with her to that appointment.

This isn't the only time I have dealt with this type of situation. In the middle of the second semester of 1L year, my dad became unwell after a surgery. He lived alone, so I left Davis and the demands of law school to take care of him for the weekend. This decision affected my performance on my midterm exams, which were the following week. This was not even a consideration in my mind when I decided to leave, but that decision had consequences. Following the exam, I visited the professor's office hours to talk about my concerns. She told me to leave my worries about home behind. To not look back. To not engage or worry about anything going forward that isn't law school. But how could I possibly do that?

The guilt that accompanies leaving the ones you love can be paralyzing, especially when you're not able to be physically present during their time of need. The demands from home don't stop, even if we are hundreds of miles away. "Hillbilly Elegy" demonstrated the conflict between the competing needs of career advancement and the health and safety of family members. When Vance got the call that his motner had overdosed while he was at a networking event, his sister pleaded with him to come home. Vance dropped what he was doing and made the hours-long journey home to pick up the pieces. 

I wish I could have done more for my friend in her moment of need. I wish I could have dropped everything and gone to that doctor's appointment with her. But I didn't, and I feel guilty for that. Ultimately, she is going to be okay. The survival rate for the form of thyroid cancer she has is nearly 100%. That the odds are in her favor, though, does not detract from the fact that I wasn't able to be there for her when she needed support. 

Is this fair? Probably not. I guess none of it is. Leaving home is hard, and leaving home when you know your friends and family need you is even harder. Although this conundrum is not unique to first-generation students, their friends and families may be less understanding of their geographic departure an inability to provide constant support. I'm not sure where the balance between being a good student and a good person lies. What do we owe those who helped us get to where we are? Not just because we owe them, but because we love them. 

"And thank goodness he isn't Mexican"

"You'll own nothing. And you'll be happy," is a prediction of the near future made by the World Economic Forum in 2018. This is a phrase that has come to mind more frequently as the world becomes increasingly dominated by subscription services, disposable plastics, and rentals. 

Desperate not to be lifetime renters, my fiancé and I recently purchased a condominium in the Greater Sacramento Area and have since been investing all our free time to the renovation and move-in process. Last weekend, this process involved the construction of a bookshelf and its installation into our living room accent wall (see photos below). To make our home improvement dream a reality, we enlisted the aid of my contractor "friend" (who I'll refer to herein under the pseudonym "Mateo" due to his documentation status).

Mateo is a paradox and an enigma, a middle-aged Mexican man with a hardboiled past and an impish sense of humor. Mateo was born in or around the city of Jalisco, Mexico, but with the way he describes it, you'd think he was born into the wild western frontier of the 1890s. In his early years, Mateo courted death numerous times working on neighborhood ranches. He's been kicked by a horse, hung on chicken wire, and has received more than his fair share of cuts and lacerations. I'm convinced his coarse hands are made up of scar tissue more than anything else. Regardless of the threats to his health, Mateo has always been happy to work and earn his living.

Mateo's time in Mexico was eventually cut short when he was forced to leave his pueblo around the age of 17. Alone, and with little money or supplies, Mateo crossed the Mexican-American frontier and survived by taking on odd jobs until he was finally taken in by a contracting company willing to exploit him for him full-time. A few years later, a now 19-year-old Mateo met his now wife while obtaining his GED. They became parents at a young age, an unseen inheritance. One fatherly punch to the jaw, a wedding, and a few years later, Mateo would find himself a respected member of his new family and a successful entrepreneur.

Mateo is an industrious man who values family, hard-work, and durability above all else. He has a very odd form of intelligence that allows him to organize labor, sell his skillset, solve problems and carry out complex renovations while believing with all sincerity and among other things that the world could be flat and that the act of flossing produces cavities. However, there is one odd trait about him I've yet to understand. While he carries great pride in his ancestry, being "hecho en Mexico," he also seems to carry an odd animus against Mexicans.

Recently, his daughter had an intimate courthouse wedding prompted by her now husband's obligation to the military (below, please enjoy a photo of the historic San Francisco courthouse for reference). Later that day, they held a beautiful reception restricted to 50 of their closest loved ones. One by one, her family and friends offered their blessings and shared memories about the bride and groom. When Mateo's turn came, he shared some of the joys and regrets he had accumulated along his life which ultimately played a small part in their union. Notably, he stated that while he was overjoyed by his daughter and her husband, he regretted bringing down his wife's potential in life. He concluded along these lines:

'I am so grateful that [my daughter] did things the right way. They are getting married today not out of responsibility but out of love. And to a great guy. Not like me. And thank goodness he isn't Mexican."

As he delivered that last line, his eyes (along with many others) fell in the direction of his niece's table, at which she sat beside her boyfriend, a relatively tall Mexican man with tanned skin and a wiry frame. After an awkward pause, the microphone and the attention eventually moved on.

Coming back to last weekend, as we drove back to my condo from El Pollo Loco to continue renovating, the topic of immigration and the Trump Administration came up in conversation. Being undocumented himself and a gracious employer to those in positions of need, I assumed he would feel a significant degree of empathy for those targeted by President Trump's authoritarian immigration policies (see, e.g., compulsory immigrant registry, removing sensitive area restrictions on ICE arrests, and contemplating the adoption of a pay-to-win back door for the wealthy into America). Instead, he told me that deportation is simply another consequence of choice.

"If you break the law, you go to jail. If you come in illegally, you get kicked out. You get what you deserve. Why I feel bad because you get what you deserve?"

I was shocked and disappointed, but I had no retort. How can one argue against such a simple, if not heartless, proposition? Even being at risk himself and knowing the collateral harms at stake with each removal, he was able to take the humanity out of the law. 

Mateo's confusing combination of Mexican pride and animosity is unfortunately not an isolated phenomenon. Hispanics and Latinx peoples across the country are shifting towards MAGA ideologies, as evidenced by our most recent national election; and for the life of me, I can't understand why. Mateo's case is especially troubling because, unlike those who voted for Trump this last November and wish to "close the door behind them" as they pursue their American dreams, Mateo "came in through the window."

If this self-destructive trend continues, those like Mateo may just receive the consequences they were willing to have others suffer. If that should come to pass, although he owns nothing, I doubt he'd be happy.