It’s the day before you officially start your first year. Your head is hanging out of the passenger window, your arms perched atop the door. A slight summer breeze whispers secrets you’ll soon come to understand in the next four years. The midsummer sun of August christens your freshly tanned skin, and Mom, trying to keep her eyes on the road, pinches you in excitement. She’s come a long way from the little country in South America. And look at things now, two girls, off to a world they’d only ever visited in conversation. 

University, for many people, is filled with tons of ‘firsts.’ Ranging from it being your first time away from home, your first time selecting your own courses or even your first time doing laundry; trekking this mountain of ‘firsts’ can be very daunting. And in times of uncertainty or loneliness, one might call upon some friends or even take a visit home to be comforted by parents. However, for a good portion of students, the latter isn’t so easy. 

Many students, often unbeknownst to their peers, are first-generation, which is also more commonly known by its abbreviation, first-gen. A first-gen student is typically defined as someone whose parents, or guardians, did not complete a four-year college or university degree. As a first-gen student, my first struggle was applying to college. I didn’t have family members who could guide me on how to determine which school was right for me, no one to read over my essays or even assist me with navigating the college apps website. On top of that, there was a lot of documentation needed, documents that neither I, nor my immigrant parents knew how to fill out. It took endless hours and phone calls to the Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) to finally submit what was required of me. So, in a process that is also stressful for those who are not first-gen, without the assistance of parents who’d attended college, I was completely alone and unprepared at the beginning of this journey.

My problems only snowballed after enrolling in college. I had to find a way to not lose my head while balancing 50 million tasks; keep my grade point average above a certain score so as not to be in jeopardy of flunking out and bring about ‘great shame’ on my family; learn to share a space with a person who wasn’t my sister; figure out what I was wearing to the next party my friends and I were going to; try not to cry because the love of my life (who in hindsight was certainly not the love of my life) wasn’t texting me back and he was, in fact, eating in the caf with another girl; find a job because my parents didn’t have enough money to give me an allowance; try not to get angry about the several people constantly asking me microaggressive questions and trying to touch my fresh braids; fill out that damn FAFSA again all while questioning why I felt like a complete and utter failure. I think it’s safe to say I was slightly losing my mind, and to make matters worse, there wasn’t a person I could call home to who would get it. My mom would just tell me to focus on school because she didn’t “make all those sacrifices for me to not get good grades, graduate, be successful and blah blah blah.” The college experience wasn’t only new to me but to my family. As I was figuring out my place at Bucknell, my family was adjusting to my absence at home. They didn’t understand why I couldn’t call at any given moment of the day or why I had ‘so much work’ to do or why I needed to make an effort to meet people here. And no matter the different ways I explained it, they just didn’t get it. 

With this gap, often, the parents of first-gen students are unable to understand the nuances that come with pursuing higher education, especially one with residential requirements. Things can get even more confusing if your parents come from another country and your home has different values and priorities. This can lead to first-gen students feeling lonely which can lead to depression, surges of anger and an inability to believe in themselves. 

Although it can be excruciatingly painful and stressful to walk this road alone as a first-gen student, you can do it. With my junior year coming to an end, I’ve been reflecting on my time at Bucknell and the ways I’ve grown into myself. Through joining organizations, clubs and circles of individuals that relate to my experience and interests, I’ve been able to accomplish the unthinkable for women who look like me. And when I look at myself in the mirror, as gorgeous as I am, I remember that my mother’s, and every other person from her village in South America’s, dreams were real and first generation students are proof. I’m proof.