Becoming the first Latina in my family to graduate from college

(Courtesy of Daisy Garcia-Castro)

As a first-generation Guatemalan American student, this is an accomplishment I’ve always dreamed of — but getting here was no easy task.

Only 14.5% of Latinas in the U.S. obtain a bachelor's degree. 14.5%.

Last month, I beat those odds and became the first Latina in my family to graduate from college. I’ve always dreamed of getting my bachelor’s degree — but as a first-generation Guatemalan American student, it was no easy task. 

My college career started with a classmate telling me that Michigan State University only accepted me because I was Hispanic. Growing up in a predominantly Hispanic and Black community in the southwest area of Grand Rapids, I was surprised to hear this from a peer. I had never experienced racism firsthand. Hearing those words made me doubt myself, but it did not discourage me from achieving my dream of becoming a strong role model for other Latinas in the business world and pursuing a career in supply chain management. I wanted to not only pave the way for other young Latina women but also make decisions about the ways our country transports goods and services to help decrease pollution and improve the environment. I applied to my university’s business college — where only half of the students that apply are accepted — and joined their ranks.

(Courtesy of Daisy Garcia-Castro)

Once in the business college, I quickly discovered that minority students only made up 6% of students. I lived this statistic every day where I was often the only Latina and one of few minorities in the classroom. I felt out of place, like I didn’t belong in my business classes. This feeling worsened when I was accepted into the supply chain management program, the best of its kind in the country. Seeing there was no one that looked like me in my classes made me wonder if someone like me would be able to succeed in this prestigious program.

My fear of not continuing school took over. I was terrified I wouldn’t graduate and be seen as a failure to my parents. I dreaded going to class every day. My advisor realized the toll this was taking on my studies and my mental health. He saw me go from a curious and determined student with a smile on her face to someone who was constantly doubting herself. I questioned if I would be able to finish what I had started. My hopes were low, my self-esteem was low. I remember calling my parents all the time and telling them that everything was going fine because I couldn’t tell them the pain I was experiencing. I did not want them to worry. But they still knew something was off. They started sending me surprise texts throughout the day. They reminded me that I was doing all this for them. 

Growing up, I didn’t have everything I wanted, but my parents provided me with everything I needed — and that was more than enough. Their texts reminded me that I couldn't give up because my parents worked so hard to get me to this point. They gave me a piece of hope I didn't know I needed and the strength to keep going. “Mija ya es lo ultimo ponle ganas.” [“Daughter, you’re almost done, put your heart into it.”] “Ponle ganas a tus estudios Mija.” [“Put your heart into your studies, daughter.”] My parents’ words reminded me that I had already achieved more than I thought I would and that gave me motivation to achieve more. They reminded me I am a first-generation student; I am the first woman in my entire family to attempt a college degree and the first one to graduate in four years. These facts kept me going and gave me the endurance to finish my senior year.

(Courtesy of Daisy Garcia-Castro)

I was in the home stretch of my final semester, coming back to campus refreshed after spring break and ready to finish the year off strong. On the third day back, I was informed that my classes were transitioning to an online format and my on-campus job no longer existed due to the pandemic. The transition from in-person classes to online was a huge adjustment. Professors cancelled most group projects and readjusted every syllabus. I moved back home and attempted to keep studying with weak internet, too many distractions and no desk. Despite these obstacles, I still managed to finish and graduate. When I turned in my final exam, I went straight to my mom and said, “We did it.” And then I started crying. 

This accomplishment is something that no one can ever take away from me, but it hurt to have our commencement cancelled because of the coronavirus. I worked so hard to have this moment of celebration with my family. My family was heartbroken, but it hit me and my dad the hardest. My dad always told me, “Daisy, the day you graduate is the day I graduate too.” As the youngest of six children and the only girl, my mom always told all my brothers the same thing. My parents are not college graduates so they live through our accomplishments. In our family, it is not, “I did it,” but instead, “We did it.”

(Courtesy of Daisy Garcia-Castro)

Although I didn't have an official commencement, my family still found a way to celebrate our achievement by having a small cookout. My siblings and dad hung decorations in the driveway while my mother cooked my favorite Guatemalan dish, carne asada platter, which consists of rice and beans, potato salad and steak. Celebrating this achievement during quarantine with only my parents and siblings reminded me that I earned this degree because of my family’s sacrifices and support. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Becoming a role model for other Latinas and women in the business world is my passion. I’m currently figuring out my next move and how to inspire others. I want to get my master’s degree — something only 4% of Latinas have. I want to prove to others what’s possible and, together, we can make that percentage larger.