Expanding pathways from postsecondary to workforce and ensuring a stable financial future for all young adults

As the daughter of immigrants and a first-generation college student, I have experienced a profound sense of insecurity while navigating higher education. This uncertainty has only deepened as I consider life after graduation. I grew up in Boyle Heights, a low-income neighborhood in Los Angeles, where severely underfunded public schools were the norm. Despite these challenges, my parents instilled in me a strong drive to prioritize my education. My father dedicated his life to hard labor so I could focus on academics and strive for a better future. Motivated by his sacrifices, I applied to college and was thrilled to be accepted.

Elated, I moved six hours away from my family to attend university in Northern California. I took out thousands of dollars in student loans and immersed myself in an unfamiliar environment, hoping I could adapt and succeed in the American higher education system. However, I soon realized that I was deeply unprepared for the whirlwind of college. For the first time, I was surrounded by students who were just as ambitious as I was—yet, unlike me, they had been raised and prepared to thrive in this space. I felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. Not only was I far from everything I had ever known, but I was also surrounded by peers whose families had generations of educational experience. My father had not even finished the fourth grade.

I had no one to guide me through the process. I completed my FAFSA alone, with my two confused, Spanish-speaking parents by my side. I wrote my application essays alone. I committed to my university alone. The lack of guidance forced me into a state of alienation. Still, I pushed through. Over time, I sought out resources designed for first-generation students, and the relief was immeasurable.

After my first year of college, I had to move back home for reasons beyond my control. I transferred to a different university and now commute. I live just five minutes away from my old high school. Occasionally, I drive past it and see students entering or leaving campus, wondering how many feel as unprepared as I once did. This reflection has only reinforced my belief in the importance of providing underrepresented students with resources that support their success—not just in preparing for college but throughout their entire academic journey.

At my old high school, 97% of students are considered “economically disadvantaged,” and the graduation rate is below the state median. Despite these barriers, many will go on to college, where they may feel lost and unsupported, lacking mentorship and guidance. This fear still follows me as I approach post-grad life with uncertainty.

Recognizing the challenges faced by underrepresented students is not enough. The financial burdens, emotional strains, and social barriers they encounter must be actively addressed. More resources need to be allocated directly to disadvantaged and underprepared students—not just to help them get into college but to support them through graduation and into post-grad life, where they are expected to secure jobs and sustain themselves. Investing in the future means showing these students that they are valued, that their success matters, and that they will be supported. We must translate these ideals into tangible programs and resources that empower them and strengthen their confidence in their abilities.