Beating the Stereotype: College Fund

To start off, my name is Ruth Viridiana Cruces Peña. My name holds my heritage, and it’s a heritage that I am deeply proud of. I come from a small town in Guanajuato, Mexico where most who live there never leave. A place where drugs and violence have painted over our street and where the only way out was by dropping out of school to go straight into the workforce. It was not a place to raise children. My parents thought that too, so after five short years of life in Mexico, my family and I immigrated to the USA. We left behind everything we knew. It was hard even for a 5-year-old because I never realized that some of my goodbyes would be the last I would ever be able to give to those we were leaving. My journey to the US wasn’t easy, especially since I had to grow up fast by taking care of my 2-year-old sister when I was still just a child myself. Although this journey left many wounds and scars that have yet to be completely healed to this day, I still persevered and developed myself into the women I am today. I always knew I wasn’t from the US but I never understood why my family did things different than my friends. Why I couldn’t go study abroad when I was specifically selected to study overseas in 4th grade. Why we never went out of state for vacations and why my parents fear to find a checkpoint on the highway. Even why I wasn’t allowed to get my drivers permit when I turned 16. That was when I found out that I had another identity; that I was Undocumented. At the time, I thought it was a relatively minor inconvenience and that I could still live a normal life; unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. At 16, I didn’t truly understand the extent of being undocumented until it was time to apply for scholarships during my junior and senior years. I was always told to make the grades and serve your community and that it would pay off in college. I did that very thing. I graduated 3rd in my class with a 4.0+ GPA, an ACT of 21, and took college classes at my local community college while in high school. I also served on multiple organizations through high school. I was incredibly committed to giving back to my community by investing time within a wide variety of service-based organizations: LULAC, Too-Much-To-Lose, Rebuilding Together, Habitat for Humanity, Latinas without Borders, and Y-Achievers, to name a few. I pushed myself and excelled beyond the stereotype of a young, undocumented Hispanic not just in my community but academically too. Unfortunately, even after all of my accomplishments and hard work, it wasn’t enough. For DACA students (the Deferred Action for Early Childhood Arrivals; a blessing I qualified for during my senior year), even if we meet and surpass the bar, it’s not enough. I entered into college with a few private scholarships. I was even chosen as a President’s Community Scholar (PCS) at the University of Oklahoma; a prestigious position only granted to just over 1% of the incoming freshman class each year. Unfortunately, despite these awards and private funding revenues, it still wasn’t enough. I was also not eligible to receive any funding via the FASFA or from OHLAP (special college funding for Oklahoma high school graduates). Yet, it didn’t stop me because my will to beat the stereotype and my passion to overcome my obstacles and make my parent’s sacrifices worth it was bigger than all my struggles. Since day one as a Sooner, I started working when I met with my graduation advisor late into my freshman year I came to the realization that I was the “first of my kind,” at least for him. Instead of receiving help from my advisor, I found myself advising him about not only about my personal situation but about DACA as a whole. It was discouraging and disheartening, to say the least, and I left his office without the financial advice or university-based assistance that I so desperately needed. As my hope and positivity began to dwindle, my grades started to reflect that change as well. My sophomore year became a “year of change” because even though I had hit rock bottom, personally and financially, there were amazing people from so many different organizations and offices that supported me and helped to propel me forward into my junior year. People whose jobs had nothing to do with helping me but took a chance because they saw the spirit of a fighter in me. They helped me change my academic life around and put me back on track to develop into the strong woman I am today. Money still continued to be an issue though. Scholarships are scarce for my major and there are even less financial resources available for undocumented students. To survive, and to pay off my steadily increasing tuition/fees, I had to pick up more hours at work and get a second and sometimes even a third job. At its peak, I worked more than 50 hours a week, in addition to taking 15 hours of classes per semester, in order to push toward my goal of receiving an education. As you can see, I am committed to receiving my degree, one way or another. Now, I’m supposed to be in my Senior year and am merely two (2) semesters away from being the first in my family to graduate. Two semesters from being able to make it in a major that DACA-mented students are not supposed to make it in. Two semesters from seeing the fruit of all of my labor. But, my story has come to a sudden halt. As funding ran low, scholarships became harder to find, and medical emergencies came up, I had to put a pause on college and begin working full time at multiple jobs. All this due to a hold placed by my university of $23,000 on Bursar account, and until that money is paid off I can’t enroll and finish what I started. Because of my status, I’m not eligible for student loans. I only seem to be eligible for funding that comes straight from my pocket, or from the generous hearts of those who have believed in me so diligently over the years. I currently work 3 jobs to make ends meet and make enough money to cover my bills and to incrementally pay off the tuition that is accumulating relentlessly in my University Bursar account (at a 1.5% interest rate per month, or an 18% interest rate per year). I’m working to pay for my scoliosis physical therapy and medications and other medical issues that have come up. I’m working to help my parents cover their bills. My dreams and desires have come to a pause; a pause that it’s difficult to see an end to because of the enormity of the task that lies before me. This is but a brief part of my story because there is so much more that I find difficult to put into words. All my life I have struggled and fought. My parents and I have made so many sacrifices to get me to where I currently am; but, I need to rely on my community now to help me reach a goal that I cannot reach on my own. Please deeply consider helping me to achieve this vision I have for my life. Help me to push through my last year of college to attain a degree that will be a culmination of everything my family and I have worked for up until now.