Undergraduate / "From the linoleum to the marble" - Personal Statement [2]

I hope you're all doing well! I wanted to share that I wasn't a finalist for QuestBridge, and I've realized that my procrastination on my last personal statement really affected it. So, I decided to write a new one! . I would truly appreciate any feedback you have please don't hold back! I'm planning to use this for the Common App and scholarships.

Thanks so much :)

The glossy marble of the general assembly felt a world away from the worn linoleum of my kitchen. Just hours after speaking to legislators about youth engagement, I was at home helping my parents decode a stack of bills, their faces marked with a fatigue I knew too well. In one world, I was a student leader discussing policy yet in the other, I was the oldest son of a family struggling to make ends meet. Somewhere between marble and linoleum, I found my reason to lead.

My political career started in a simpler world, with a sixth-grade poster saying "Vote Giancarlo he's your avocad-bro". The thrill of that first victory for class president felt so pure. I genuinely believed change was as simple as the best poster idea, that if we just found the perfect donut pun, we could fix anything. That version of politics was a game played on an polsiedh uncomplicaeted surface. I didn't know about the friction of the real world, the grit of the linoleum floor.

I dove in headfirst. I served as president of my student council, became a governor's page, and spoke at multiple protests. I loved the energy of politics, the belief that we were shaping the future. But with each roundtable meeting with a senator, each policy debate the disconnect grew. The abstract discussions about "economic anxiety" in rooms of marble were suddenly concretized by the specific greasy feel of a 20 dollar bill my mom gave me for groceries, her whisper, "Gianni, just the essentials". The system we were debating wasn't an abstract concept. It was the same one that had shut down the chicken plant where my stepfather worked, the same one that made that stack of bills on the kitchen table a source of fear.

I realized the rooms of power weren't built for someone like me: queer, Latino, first-generation. The polished tables and procedural language felt designed to exclude the messy, resilient realities of families like mine. But instead of feeling shut out, I remembered the quiet strength strength i learned from my stepfather the kind shown not in speeches but in the simple act of bringing home my favorite nachos after a long shift. That was a strength built on consistency, not on spectacle. It was the same strength I used to help my younger siblings with homework, patiently navigating their frustrations. I decided my role in politics wouldn't be to just speak in those sacred halls, but to carry the linoleum with me into the marble-to be a steady, consistent force representing those seen as statistics and not as people.

This new purpose reframed everything. Reconnecting with my old vice president from sixth grade, Kayle wasn't about nostalgia it was about partnership with someone who understood this mission. Together, we didn't just start a club instead we founded the Chatham Teen Democrats as a microphone for the voices the system overlooks. The 100 members we recruited weren't just a number , they were a community learning to amplify their own stories. Speaking at protests with hundreds of people was no longer about conquering a fear of public speaking, I used it as a space I once felt shut out from. I didn't want the attention to be on me, but instead on the harmful legislation that threatened the linoleum world I came from.

My path hasnt been a straight line from the linoleum to the marble. Its a constant commute between the two. Each informs the other. The resilience of my family grounds my politics in real human need, and the tools of government give me the ability to translate that need into action. I started to see it not as two worlds , but as one broken system. A system that needs leaders who understand the view from both the kitchen table and the legislative table. My goal is to be that bridge , to ensure that the policies created in a room of marble never forget the weight of a bill on a linoleum floor.

Scholarship / Community-Based Research on Early Childhood Policy - Questbridge Supplemental + Why Duke [2]

As you complete the Activities section, use this space to highlight one activity that is meaningful to you, whether it's from paid work, home or family responsibilities, or extracurricular activities. Consider all of the ways you spend your time outside the classroom, and tell us about the thing that matters to you most and why.
What is your sense of Duke as a university and a community, and why do you consider it a good match for you? If there's something in particular about our offerings that attracts you, feel free to share that as well.

Hey everyone! I wanted to share one of my FIRST draft supplemental essays and would appreciate any honest feedback. The last part is what I would adapt for my "Why Duke" essay if Questbridge doesn't work out. I feel like this draft is heading in the right direction, but I'm open to any suggestions or critiques that could strengthen it. Please be brutally honest, and let me know your thoughts. Thanks so much, and I'm looking forward to hearing back from you all!

There's nothing we can do." I froze , looking across the table at a state senator - a man elected to represent us- and asked,"but you do represent us what do you mean there's nothing you can do" I starred in disbelief as he shook his head "I'm sorry."

The silence after his words felt heavier than the room. Because my little brother Giovanni, who has autism had already been waiting seven months for the speech therapy he needed. Seven months of my mom making phone call after phone call. Seven months of watching him
struggle to form words at the table, wishing I could fix it for him . Giovanni is not "nothing" he's laughter that fills the dinner table, endless questions about dinosaurs and a light in my life. Yet sitting across from the senator, it felt like the system had decided he didn't matter.

I wasn't going to take that for answer. I couldn't just sit back and listen. So I spoke at rallies and in front of the General Assembly. I founded the first Teenage Democrats chapter in my county and served on the NC Teen Democrats executive board. I was honored with the ability to serve as a Governors Page where I presentented a policy proposal on equity in education, even receiving an award for my service. I've walked into rooms I never imagined id enter and every time, I carried Giovanni with me.

Politics became personal becoming the way I protect my family and fight for people who don't have the ability to. When I speak, im not just speaking for myself. I'm speaking for Giovanni and every student who's been told they're too much.

"There's nothing we can do" isn't good enough. Not for Giovanni. Not for me.Not for the 203,000 students with a disability across North Carolina waiting to be seen. As long as I have a voice I'll keep using it , until silence is no longer an answer.

At Duke Sanford, I'd be able to move beyond telling my brother's story and gain the tools to rewrite it. The graduate course Community-Based Research on Early Childhood Policy and Practice would allow me to partner with local organizations to create policies that reduce wait times for therapy, thereby creating solutions to frustration. Or, by building the ground up through the undergraduate seminar Child Policy Research, I'll gain an interdisciplinary lens to better understand how families, schools, and community systems shape access to care. Further, pursuing the Child Policy Research Certificate via the Center for Child and Family Policy would let me frame advocacy within evidence-based cross-disciplinary strategies, exactly what's needed to transform "there's nothing we can do" into "this is what we will do."

Scholarship / acrid smell of burnt rubber and gasoline - questbridge bio [2]

Personal Essay (800-word limit)
We are interested in learning more about the context in which you have grown up, formed your aspirations, and accomplished your successes. Please describe how the most influential factors and challenges in your life have shaped you into the person you are today.

Hey everyone! I've finally completed a first draft of my QuestBridge bio/personal statement. I know it's not perfect and there's plenty of room for improvement, especially since it needs to be shortened to 800 words right now it sits at 857. I would really appreciate any and all feedback, so please don't hold back I welcome constructive criticism! Thank you!

My phone lit up with six missed calls from a friend I hadn't spoken to in years. The words on the screen read, "Your stepdad just crashed." It honestly didn't feel real, and I didn't think to take it seriously. Why Would I? He had always been unshakable, a man of calloused hands and a face carved from resilience, the kind of strength I thought could never be broken. Suddenly, my mom called, her voice splintered with sobs, and it felt real. The air was heavy with the acrid smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, mingling with the pungent scent of fear and anxiety. Onlookers rushed to the scene, frantically dialing for emergency services, while the wailing sirens grew closer and closer.
As the sirens pierced the air, I realized that this was going to shift the weight of my world, settling it onto my shoulders in a way that felt both inevitable and unbearable. Responsibility was no longer the errands and chores I had known. Being the oldest sibling meant responsibility was already stitched into my days, paying my own bills at sixteen, translating paperwork in waiting rooms, babysitting so my mom could keep working. Now, responsibility had shifted into something heavier. It became hospital corridors and therapy schedules, late-night calls with insurance companies, and still somehow making sure my brother made it to speech therapy and my sister never felt alone with her math homework.
Resilience became the quiet thread stitching my life together. My grades did not always mirror the battles fought behind the scenes, nights of exhaustion, mornings that began before the sun, afternoons split between shifts at work and caring for my siblings. Yet through every setback, I carried an unshakable expectation for myself: to create a future where my siblings could say, We made it.
I think back to when it was just me and my mom, her days swallowed by back-to-back shifts, her nights shortened by the weight of keeping us afloat. She would come home long after dark, still finding the strength to pick me up from the babysitter. And even then, I would tug her awake at one in the morning, asking for a danimals. She would smile through her exhaustion and get it for me anyway. i didn't understand it then, but that small act carried the same sacrifice as every overnight shift, every ache in her hands. It was love dressed as resilience, and it taught me what it means to keep giving even when you have nothing left.
When my mom met my stepdad, our lives shifted again. he was never the type to show much emotion, but I always carried a soft spot for him. With him came my siblings, three pieces of my heart that reshaped my world. Giovanni, my youngest brother, was diagnosed with autism. Suddenly, resilience looked different: it meant learning to cook meals with textures he could handle, sitting beside him through speech therapy sessions, and tutoring him late into the night when the words came slower. it meant guiding my sister through math homework at the kitchen table while translating medical papers for my parents in waiting rooms.
All of this unfolded while I was battling my own storms. Diagnosed with adhd at five, anxiety in high school, and weighed down by depression in between, I often felt like I was crumbling under the same pressure that forced me to stand tall. But even on the hardest nights, I knew that pushing forward wasn't only for me, it was for them.
As the oldest sibling, I have always carried the weight of expectation. And as a Mexican American and an openly feminine gay man, I know what it means to be told, silently and sometimes loudly, that I must work twice as hard to be seen as enough. The world does not expect people like me to make it. But if twice the work is what it takes, then twice the work is what I will give.
The odds are not built in my favor. Only 56 Hispanic members serve in the 119th U.S. Congress, making up barely 10 percent of seats, despite Latinos being nearly 20 percent of the population. Across all elected offices, less than 2 percent are held by Latinos, and only 0.24 percent are openly lgbtq. For someone like me, the pathway into public office is narrow. And yet, I have already carved spaces where none existed, organizing, protesting, advocating, raising my voice when silence would have been easier.
I have been told that I do too much, that I will burn myself out. Maybe they are right. I pay bills, manage responsibilities, work 35-hour weeks, and still find time for advocacy. But this is who I am. Resilience has always been my inheritance, and responsibility my burden. i know what it feels like to stand alone, and I know that I will keep standing because my siblings need me to.
I will go to college. I will study public policy. I will continue to fight for equity, to make space for voices like mine in rooms that have long been closed to us. And maybe one day, when another Mexican American kid - gay, brown, and underestimated looks at me and thinks, if he made it, I can too, then I will know I have done something right.