They say life begins when you’re born, but for me, life began when I was dropped off on the cobblestone paths of Fisk University. I did the work; I made the grades and now I was a “Daughter Forever on the Altar.” This wasn’t extremely special because everyone in my family goes to college. Take for instance my dad, who somehow began college at the age of 16 and went on to graduate from Notre Dame earning his masters in business. Or, you could look at my sister, who graduated from Saint Xavier University with her bachelors in nursing. She’s now licensed in 4 states. If that’s not example enough of how nonspecial I am, let’s turn our attention to my oldest sister who is months away from receiving her Ph.D. in Psychology. She’s currently student teaching at the City College of New York.

I wasn’t a first-generation college student. There was no Pell or MAP grant for me. My tuition was paid by my dad. I didn’t even qualify for a work study job, but with tuition paid monthly, a meal plan and books and laptop in tow I set off on my journey to still find my own way of making my family proud. While many of my fellow peers were receiving refund checks, my dad reassured me I had everything I needed with “3 hots and a cot.” After a while, I started to believe him. Classes were going well, GPA was looking right, so it was no issue when I asked my dad to book me a flight home every other month.

I left my high school sweetheart back home. Going home every other month was just as much about seeing him as it was about seeing my family. Honestly, it was only about him. Let my family tell it, they only saw me when they picked me up from the airport and when they dropped me off. After months of trips back home it wasn’t long before I found myself 19 and pregnant and states away from home. I was told my pregnancy would be high risk due to having hypertension. Young and afraid I knew I had to tell my parents. My dad said having a high risk pregnancy and being so far away was not an option. A week later he pulls up in a pick up truck, packs up all my belongings, and just like that I’m back home, still pregnant and officially withdrawn from a university so rich in history, excellence and prestige. I cried the whole 6 hour ride home.

On July 23rd, 2008. My son was born weighing 4lbs and 3 ounces. He wasn’t due until the end of August but I was told he might not make it and my doctor did not want to wait around to find out. My son was born with Tricuspid Atresia, a heart defect that results in the right side of the heart never forming. My son would go on to need 3 open heart surgeries, the first of which he received at 15 days old. I dedicated my life to keeping my son alive. I spent more time at Hope Children’s hospital than I would like to admit but he was alive, thriving and had made it to his first birthday. It was time to finish what I started.

Fast forward to August 9th 2009, I was officially back in school. A freshman at Chicago State University and although there were no cobblestone paths, or bronze statues of W.E.B Dubois or instructors like Nikki Giovanni on staff it was everything I needed.

Now the head of my own household, applying for FAFSA had a very different EFC; Estimated Family Contribution. When I pressed the submit button on my FAFSA application my EFC showed 0.00. How could that be possible? I was in disbelief and shock. The learner who once couldn’t even get a work study suddenly has grants available to her to pay for school. Through the combination of MAP and Pell grants my first year’s tuition was completely paid. I even had a credit at our campus bookstore that I could use to purchase textbooks.

4 years later, I walked across the stage and was handed my bachelors degree in psychology. I was a 23 year old mom who worked at a gas station part time. I would not have been able to afford college if it were not for grants such as the Pell and MAP grants awarded to me. Earning my degree somehow became more significant. “They” will tell you I was never supposed to walk across that stage because I was a teen mom, and in response I’ll tell them to eat crow.

MAP and Pell grants matter. They matter to the youth, they matter to the student parents, and they matter to first-generation college students. Tupac once said, “They got money for wars but can’t feed the poor.” The hunger for knowledge is widespread. Many of today’s young have desires to go to college but feel they can’t afford the rising tuition costs. MAP and Pell grants can change this but not on their own. It is on us. Particularly those of us who have benefited from a Pell or MAP grant. It is on us to share the impact of Pell and MAP grants and write to our legislatures to support bills such as HB 4618 and SB 3149 which support student parents like myself. We also need to put pressure on our policy makers to increase MAP funding. Through the leadership program with Young Invincibles, I’m learning more about the power of storytelling and I’ve been told if we all come together and share our stories we have no choice but to make an impact.

Cherise Williams is a Chicago based family support specialist. Her work involves assisting young mothers with securing their housing, financial and educational goals. Outside of work Cherise enjoys spending long hours in her outdoor garden, volunteer work within her community and spending time with family and friends.

Take action and join us in telling legislators that #MAPMatters: p2a.co/N8M5MOL