a bit about me....
At 9 I was diagnosed with my learning disability or “learning difference” (LD). I was forced to confront a diagnosis of a visual processing disorder (a form of dyslexia) as well as ADHD, depression, and anxiety. Though I now realize that many of these challenges have helped form my character in ways I would not trade, at the time, I felt shame at having so much mounting “baggage,” and as though something was wrong with me..
For most of my elementary school experience prior to my diagnosis, I was told I was lazy and careless, with the occasional drop of the “R” word here and there by teachers and guidance counselors. They often questioned why I was even in the gifted program, despite my verbal IQ being stellar, there wasn't much else that seemed to make me “gifted.” My 5th-grade teacher, Ms.Grant, never gave up on me, however. She was the reason I was even tested for an LD. She believed that I had every right to be in the accelerated gifted program regardless of my disability.
My (LD) diagnosis, however, did not free me or liberate me in the way that Ms.Grant or I had hoped. Rather, I felt as if I was now plagued by a curse forever, branding me with a scarlet letter, only mine read “LD.” My diagnosis did, however, provide me some degree of comfort being that now there was more of a direction as to how to instruct me and how my brain worked/learned.Finally, when I was eleven years old, my parents officially divorced. This proved a new beginning for both me and my mother and siblings. While things were not always rosy after the divorce, I gained new respect for my mother and, seeing her reinventing herself, realized I could also have new beginnings.
Unfortunately, learning disabilities aren't just something you can “control alt delete” from your story, and I learned the difference between things you can change and things you have to work with. Unlike my parents dysfunctional marriage, unfortunately my LD was not something I was able to divorce.
Though reading was what I struggled most with and took me a great deal of time to do, it in many ways became my escape (creating a real oxymoron of its own: a dyslexic who loves reading). Reading provided me with an outlet away from my home life, something I'd never experienced before. It was my way to live in an alternate reality and escape the demons of my childhood.. In books, I could find worlds where I could have adventures even without the power to leave my environment..
My learning disability and I trudged on through high school, as I was admitted into the honors program at Lane Tech College prep and was told by my second ever guidance counselor that I should instead stick to a regular curriculum in comparison to honors, since I had a learning disability. My mom agreed with the counselor, but I refused. I, like Ms.Grant, knew I was more than capable of keeping up with my peers in the honors program. I remained in the honors program, but after the first semester lost interest in academia due to family issues that persisted even though my parents now lived apart. As I began to struggle, I realized that most of my teachers had similar mindsets as my elementary school teachers had, seeming frustrated and confused by my learning needs and accommodations.
My mental health hit an all-time low. I transferred schools.
Jones College Prep took me 1 bus and 2 trains to get there every morning. Every morning it became a ritual: I would crank my headphones to the max volume and blast “I Wanna Get Better” by the bleachers.
Everyone at some point in their lives is asked “what do you want to be when you grow up.” My response for most of high school became “I want to be better.” But what does better ever mean to a 14 year old? What metric do you even measure better on? I still don't have an answer for that, but at 14 better mainly meant being able to learn “normally.” But in other ways it was confusing. Better also meant “bad guys” being punished and put away…but when I played this out, I realized my own father was a bad guy. Did I want him put away? . Even as I remembered lying in bed at night listening to glass shatter and bodies slam into the marble while I clutched my siblings to my chest, I realized better was a complex concept with no easy answers..
With the guidance of my new English teacher at Jones, I joined the Debate team and fell in love all over again with learning and reading, particularly one author, Michelle Alexander, the author of The New Jim Crow. These books and socratic seminars I was being exposed to demonstrated to me firsthand how the convoluted terms of better and bad were not quite as “black” and “white” as much of society believes. I learned about our broken system and the racist rhetoric it is rooted in. Due to the diversity of my high school in downtown Chicago, I witnessed instances of blatant discrimination that I myself had never and would never face due to my skin color and economic privilege. I understood that I would not and could not ever even begin to embody or understand someone else's suffrage and though I was disturbed deeply it was never my place nor my right to embody someone else's pain especially not people of colors to be my own.
Soon after transferring to Jones I divorced the idea of better and bad and made room for the idea that there might be something more, something that carried the weight of both. I recognize that being complacent with the way things were was something I'd never be ok with.
While debate was something that was quite foreign to my peers and my parents it was something I began to have somewhat of an affair with. Cutting cards in between classes, highlighting mounds of research late into the night. It was a scandalous flirtation that only a select few of my high school peers shared with me: the debate team. The information that we were uncovering was so foreign to me and intoxicatingly interesting. I stopped shying away from academia, as I had always done due to my LD. Maybe for that reason, joining Debate was also around the same time I finally began to feel more comfortable embracing my LD diagnosis and became more of an advocate for myself as well as my peers. Debate helped me find my voice, and soon after I became the founding member as well as president of four different clubs.
When it came time to apply to college, I yet again met with discomfort and uncertainty. I was told by yet another guidance counselor that I probably would never attend a 4-year University in a “timely manner” due to my disability. Despite this advice, I continued to apply to 4-year institutions that offered a major in political science.
Upon being admitted to UIUC, I found my space and a sense of belonging. I was able to share my personal experiences with dyslexia with others like me, who struggled with learning differences by joining different RSOs on campus. I began to explore further my interest in law, even picking up a second major in Communication upon realizing that it was a skill/craft utilized by every practicing attorney. Throughout college I began to view my LD as less of an antagonist I was trying to run away from and came to realize that it was one of the very few constants in my life. It was never going to leave my side. It may vary and change in the way that it affects my day to day learning, but it wasn't going to inhibit me or define me exclusively. I found meaning and understanding in the sense that my LD made me part of a large community of people with similar issues, who needed advocacy just as I had needed it. I realized my LD, while not being all of who I am, had helped me to be both more empathic and hardworking. It wasn't by any means a cliche “super power” but it was my own Pandora's box filled with complexities. The work ethic it had helped spur me on, resulting in my finishing UIUC in 3 years, as well as advocating for important things I truly believe in during my college years by joining Student Government and sitting as the Deputy communications director.
As a woman with a learning disability, academia is somewhere I long felt unwelcome, and it has been an uphill battle many times to fight to be seen, heard, and understood.
I have never shied away from conflict, despite my disability and the violence I endured as a woman through childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood. In a way, conflict even became a core part of my identity. I had a great deal of anger and frustration for most of my adolescence, and it wasn't until college that I realized that most of it was rooted in the fact that I was accustomed to lack of communication and rather flesh just connecting with fists. Many of the environments I have been part of, from home to school, originally created shame for me, until I decided to create safe spaces of my own as well as to join others who openly welcomed me as I am.
I am fortunate that I was able to be a strong advocate for myself and communicate to my professors, teachers, and peers who would listen to the tools as well as the guidance I needed in order to set myself up for success, but I recognize that not everyone is as fortunate or lucky as I. I wish to be a lawyer to not only be an advocate for but also to represent a demographic of successful women with disabilities that I feel I struggled to find examples of growing up, and who are too often discouraged within academia.
Law allows, and pulls from the past in order to create ideals we uphold for our futures. Being “better” now means utilizing my knowledge and personal experiences to help create policy and change for the future, making circumstances “better” for those around me. I wish to represent and acknowledge that there is simply more to a person than labels or hardships, and to see the potential in future actions that have not been brought into fruition yet. Underdogs can truly rise if given the opportunity, but how can someone “overcome'' if all the odds and systems are already stacked against them? How are they supposed to rise above if liberty and justice doesn't truly mean “for all?”
Being an advocate doesn't mean being the loudest person in the room, nor does it mean being at the front of the battle. No one deserves to be given up on or forgotten. People can grow to be “better.” Public defenders, for example, believe in second chances and in the right to representation regardless of the circumstances. For every guidance counselor that doubted me there was a teacher that didn't give up on me, that wouldn't let me give up on myself, one that believed in my ability to improve in my ability to get “better.” For my lack of safety at home, there were other families and community members who rallied around me and tried to convey to me that I had worth. I want to be this force in the world for other people who may feel the odds are just against them. Everyone needs advocacy and someone willing to hear them and give them a fair shot.
I am certain that after pursuing an education in Political Science and Communication that I now have a better understanding to a degree of the nuances of being a public servant and an activist who is aware of context and history. I am specifically interested in researching and advocating for women's economic empowerment through education as an attorney.
Based on what I learned working as a service leader and mentor in Champaign county with Eye to Eye, improving education helps increase young girls’ self-confidence and enables them to find better jobs, engage in public debate, and make demands on the government for health care, social services, and other entitlements.
In particular, education empowers women to make choices that improve their own health and chances of survival. Prior to college, I was focused on creating a better life for myself. Now, I want to be a part of creating a safer and more inclusive world for other girls and women, a journey that I believe has only just started with my degrees in Political Science and Communication.
I wish to further utilize my degrees and become a practicing attorney who is well versed on the ways in which the systems and institutions work. I feel that only then I can truly begin to mend the gaps that have allowed violence against women to continue. I am hoping my journey will eventually put me in office, where my legacy will be created by changing people's lives through advocacy, education, and effective uses of privilege to pave the way for a more inclusive future.