Sharing Our Stories, Staying Ourselves

by Michaela Anang-Hadjicostandi

To many of us who choose to apply to higher ed, and especially for first generation students, admissions departments are largely perceived as a “black box”... these faceless, nameless entities who decide our futures. Are we worthy? Have our lives proved extraordinary… successful… tragic enough? That’s what the application process can feel like: deciding how much of ourselves feels worth sharing, and which parts of that story will be compelling for the key-holders of our futures. 

In the first few weeks of this course on “First Gen Experiences” we have been asked our histories, our perceptions on engaging vulnerably with each other, our perspectives on various pedagogical praxis, among other conversations. I’ve never been one to shy from those kinds of questions, (in fact, one of my favorite games is called We’re Not Really Strangers– check it out if you’re curious). In this course context, we examine our understandings of the higher education process, which so often leaves so many out of its “hallowed halls.” It’s clear that there is so much, from mental health to cost and beyond, that keeps people from pursuing higher ed and/or law school in particular. With the gutting of Affirmative Action, equity in the application process may have become more obscured and/or feel more inaccessible especially for prospective students of color. 

I’ll be real, I’ve been lucky. I never felt college wasn’t for me (more on this later). What’s more, when I applied to grad school, I was of the mind that I didn’t owe anyone my story. I’m privileged in that sense as well. I reflect on the experiences of law school peers sharing openly about their higher ed journeys, and realize that overcoming an internalized stigma of my upbringing weighed heavily in mine too, but like others, it did not deter me from striving for achievement. 

While puzzling over all that is possible to share with an unknown audience (whether the seeming black-box of admissions boards or the black-box of the internet), I believe in starting with intention. Below, I share my law school application essay (with slight content edits for posting here). I return to this and other application pieces from time to time because I take my words seriously, and hope to uphold them as best I can. I hope sharing this can possibly serve to demystify the application process for some, and I also hope to contextualize some of my past, looking toward my future writing:

“You are your greatest tool. Use you wisely.” (unknown attribution→ likely a meme I saw on instagram)

I was raised rooted in service with the expansive desert skyline beside my childhood home offering me a space of possibility and imagination. In the somewhat rural city of Odessa, Texas, learning spaces were my playground- literally, as I was raised by a single mother who taught Sociology, and metaphorically, as my sister and I were always encouraged to engage curiously and critically as we grew up. I was raised in community involvement and organizing, and thus from a young age I have felt a commitment and calling toward justice and all that means. I honor the place I spent my youth, growing up going to inter-tribal pow wows, being in community despite the legacy of segregation that exists. The continuation after grad school will be a sustained engagement with community, while leveraging my understanding and training to enrich and complicate conversation on the processes of civic and geographic justice. 

 

My journey toward law school, whether or not I knew, has been on and off since my senior year of high school. Back then, it was the Trial of Socrates, where we recreated the philosopher’s trial in a mock court in the public school library. My team and I on the defense, our “Socrates” was found not guilty and thus spared from his historic fate of taking hemlock. Although this was a small and relatively fictionalized exercise, it was an example of what a court system, what a good legal team, and what understanding the story and providing support for one’s client can do. 

In college, my cognizance of the law came closer to home. Sitting at our kitchen counter, my mother and I were engaging in conversation about my late father, who passed away a month before I started high school. He was a man who had principle, strength and dreams, until the US immigration system, which awarded my Greek mother a green card, denied one to my Ghanaian father. I vividly remember starting to formulate a clearer image of the previously unnamed forces that had shaped my father’s, and thus my family’s and my life. As a formerly undeclared college freshman, who had since decided upon Human Services and International Affairs as a major, the sense of justice that I have always had inside and committed to pursuing panged with a need to right a system that could potentially harm others in its wake. 

This sensitivity and my commitment to service, solidarity and justice were motivators for being a part of the founding coalition of Students Against Institutional Discrimination during undergrad. I participated remotely in organizing, while interning in Washington, DC. This period was deeply meaningful in building my capacity for organizing, as I recognized the leadership and advocacy of my peers, while my internship exposed me to issues of global justice and liberation struggles. I became more critically aware and avidly passionate about the issues that keep cultures and societies connected and those that maintain conflict and oppression. 

 

Before graduating, I asked my capstone advisor, the late Dr. Kimberly Jones, about her own experiences with law school. She told me, “You have to either love the law enough, or love what you’re going to do with the law enough.” So I waited to see if the time would come that I would love the law. 

I attended my first legal course while still studying at Northeastern University. The pace, energy and material were so thoroughly engaging, and I began to see the tendrils of what pursuing a law degree could entail. My second “course” in the legal field came several years later, during the immigration “crisis,” at the southern border of the US in the winter of 2018-2019. My mother and I drove cross country from Texas to join a coalition of volunteers to offer support to migrants facing or emerging from detention at the Tijuana-San Diego border. We engaged in a training to learn more about the process of seeking asylum: the arduous and step-laden journey that a family or individual might undergo to reach a sense of safety. I knew that being someone with empathy, understanding and also the training necessary to support others through this process and more, could ultimately come from a law degree. 

I’ve only thus far spoken of the “human” aspect of the law that fascinates and emboldens me in this pursuit. I wish to hold a JD/PhD in Geography. Much of my resolution in this field comes from seeing a wide range of experiences: from the heart and makeup of a city struggling against corporations that threaten lower income communities with continual “development” on behalf of profit over the wellbeing of the planet and people, to oil companies in my own hometown that threaten communities with toxic waste in close proximity to historically Black neighborhoods. I aim to learn about the land, rights as stewards of that land, and the different notions and histories that brought us to the current understanding of both. 

I recognize that not everyone has the same access that I did growing up. Each community and community member has a uniqueness to their situation that generalizations could never do justice to. As a Greek-Ghanaian-American, I bring this perspective to my work: the energy and belief in infinite potential, the weighted perspective of systems, theory and research, and the sincere drive for engagement and solutions. I am grateful to the students and community members who kept me focused on equity. I also hold immense gratitude and reverence for the Boston art community who changed my perspective and connection to art, showing the importance of vulnerability and collectivity. Currently, I am developing my writing practice to be able to share my voice. I have learned immensely from Disability Justice advocates and leaders as well, and keep this as a focal point in my practice. I always wanted to set the needle of the world toward a more equitable and accessible future for all. 

 

Knowing that I am a tool for my community, it is clear to me why law school is on my path. It might not be that I love the law, Dr. Jones, and dear readers, but I love what I will do with it.