Urgent!-Very Honest critique needed for this personal statement for law school
"Suca!" a familiar voice shouted from one of the upper-floor balconies along Calle Simon Bolivar in Cuenca, Ecuador. Panic set in as I recognized the voice of a classmate from the private, catholic school I attended. The Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo procession had stopped moving and I was stuck amidst a multitude of farm workers dressed in traditional indigenous dress, children dressed as various biblical characters, farm animals draped with fruits, and cars whose hoods were adorned with roasted pigs, and chickens. I kept my gaze down as I continued to hear my childhood nickname being shouted. I peered down at two heavy light-brown braids of hair, and a suede pollera, an embroidered skirt with sequined flower decorations at the hem. I was dressed as a "Chola Cuencana," an indigenous woman of the Azuay region of Ecuador. Many times I had witnessed, indigenous woman being ignored by bank tellers, or made fun of by store clerks. Although my family was considered middle- class mestizos, I was afraid of being isolated and ignored because of our close association and championing of indigenous culture. Although, more than half of Ecuador's population is mestizo, the idea of having Indian blood is still considered a sign of impurity. At a young age, I understood that indigenous traditions were often rejected and indigenous people were considered backward country folk.
Ironically, it was not until I moved back to the US that I began to appreciate my heritage. In a country that celebrated diversity, I felt at liberty to accept the uniqueness of Ecuadorian traditions and indigenous people as a defining part of my own identity. The change was not instant. It necessitated my full immersion in Ecuadorian life in the US. In hindsight, it is this commitment that led to my understanding that the promise of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness is far off for some and their realization depends on more than just arriving in the country that promises to uphold them.
Although, many indigenous Ecuadorians migrated to the US, they had not actually abandoned Ecuador. Indigenous Ecuadorian traditions such as the Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo were maintained in the urban neighborhoods of Brooklyn. The Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo procession and feast has taken place in Saint Bridget's church in Brooklyn, New York for the past 7 years. In my high school years, I'd help out by assisting child performers with their traditional garb or by handing out food. Today, I take part in the organization of these events. Raising funds for the procession and feast allows me to visit fellow Ecuadorians in their homes. Over dinner I have listened to stories of discrimination, exploitative labor, poverty, and the difficulty of assimilating to a new country. I'll never forget Christmas of 2008 as it was a true testament to the compassion and unity of our community. Two Ecuadorian immigrants, Jose Sucuzhanay and Marcelo Lucero, had been had been victims of brutal attacks fueled by anti-immigrant hostility two months before Christmas. The attacks were highly publicized and instilled fear and disillusionment within the Ecuadorian community. Although, the victims were not part of our community, vigils were held in their name and donations were sent to their families. I suffered greatly at witnessing the distress of my community as many of them were my friends and family. To observe them come together with such compassion, perseverance, and unity was as humbling as it was inspiring.
Back in Ecuador the indigenous are largely forgotten and ignored by its people and government and it seemed that in the US they were destined to face a similar fate as immigrants. In hindsight, my involvement within this community was tantamount to my inspiration to help empower communities of immigrants. Maintaining continuous interaction with a community of Ecuadorian immigrants has invited me to reflect on the struggles of all immigrants as they struggle to forge a new life in the US. In our indigenous community in Ecuador my grandparents spoke on behalf of the community and lobbied local government to heed to the needs of our people. This contrasted to the situation I witnessed in the US where there was a lack of leadership in immigrant communities. My decision to go to law school has stemmed from feeling impotent while observing the struggle of a community of immigrants. The level of trust and hope that they have developed for me is both overwhelming and empowering. It has forced me to draw upon the principles that were inculcated in me by my grandparents when caring for and leading a community of indigenous Ecuadorians. Just as they matched their values of compassion, generosity, hard work and brotherhood with actions, I plan to use the resources that come with a legal education to help lead and uplift immigrant communities.
"Suca!" a familiar voice shouted from one of the upper-floor balconies along Calle Simon Bolivar in Cuenca, Ecuador. Panic set in as I recognized the voice of a classmate from the private, catholic school I attended. The Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo procession had stopped moving and I was stuck amidst a multitude of farm workers dressed in traditional indigenous dress, children dressed as various biblical characters, farm animals draped with fruits, and cars whose hoods were adorned with roasted pigs, and chickens. I kept my gaze down as I continued to hear my childhood nickname being shouted. I peered down at two heavy light-brown braids of hair, and a suede pollera, an embroidered skirt with sequined flower decorations at the hem. I was dressed as a "Chola Cuencana," an indigenous woman of the Azuay region of Ecuador. Many times I had witnessed, indigenous woman being ignored by bank tellers, or made fun of by store clerks. Although my family was considered middle- class mestizos, I was afraid of being isolated and ignored because of our close association and championing of indigenous culture. Although, more than half of Ecuador's population is mestizo, the idea of having Indian blood is still considered a sign of impurity. At a young age, I understood that indigenous traditions were often rejected and indigenous people were considered backward country folk.
Ironically, it was not until I moved back to the US that I began to appreciate my heritage. In a country that celebrated diversity, I felt at liberty to accept the uniqueness of Ecuadorian traditions and indigenous people as a defining part of my own identity. The change was not instant. It necessitated my full immersion in Ecuadorian life in the US. In hindsight, it is this commitment that led to my understanding that the promise of life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness is far off for some and their realization depends on more than just arriving in the country that promises to uphold them.
Although, many indigenous Ecuadorians migrated to the US, they had not actually abandoned Ecuador. Indigenous Ecuadorian traditions such as the Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo were maintained in the urban neighborhoods of Brooklyn. The Christmas Eve Pase del Nińo procession and feast has taken place in Saint Bridget's church in Brooklyn, New York for the past 7 years. In my high school years, I'd help out by assisting child performers with their traditional garb or by handing out food. Today, I take part in the organization of these events. Raising funds for the procession and feast allows me to visit fellow Ecuadorians in their homes. Over dinner I have listened to stories of discrimination, exploitative labor, poverty, and the difficulty of assimilating to a new country. I'll never forget Christmas of 2008 as it was a true testament to the compassion and unity of our community. Two Ecuadorian immigrants, Jose Sucuzhanay and Marcelo Lucero, had been had been victims of brutal attacks fueled by anti-immigrant hostility two months before Christmas. The attacks were highly publicized and instilled fear and disillusionment within the Ecuadorian community. Although, the victims were not part of our community, vigils were held in their name and donations were sent to their families. I suffered greatly at witnessing the distress of my community as many of them were my friends and family. To observe them come together with such compassion, perseverance, and unity was as humbling as it was inspiring.
Back in Ecuador the indigenous are largely forgotten and ignored by its people and government and it seemed that in the US they were destined to face a similar fate as immigrants. In hindsight, my involvement within this community was tantamount to my inspiration to help empower communities of immigrants. Maintaining continuous interaction with a community of Ecuadorian immigrants has invited me to reflect on the struggles of all immigrants as they struggle to forge a new life in the US. In our indigenous community in Ecuador my grandparents spoke on behalf of the community and lobbied local government to heed to the needs of our people. This contrasted to the situation I witnessed in the US where there was a lack of leadership in immigrant communities. My decision to go to law school has stemmed from feeling impotent while observing the struggle of a community of immigrants. The level of trust and hope that they have developed for me is both overwhelming and empowering. It has forced me to draw upon the principles that were inculcated in me by my grandparents when caring for and leading a community of indigenous Ecuadorians. Just as they matched their values of compassion, generosity, hard work and brotherhood with actions, I plan to use the resources that come with a legal education to help lead and uplift immigrant communities.