I've already run this by three people--two said the content is great but one believes I'm trashing my race and the tone needs to be more positive. I'm not good at metaphors and and was advised against using famous quotes so I'm looking for feedback on content, tone and flow. Of course, feel free to pick part anything else. Your critiques are appreciated. Thanks.“Congratulations [My Name], You Are Black”
I went to three private elementary schools in Houston in the 1980s: 1) Annunciation Orthodox Cathedral Catholic School, 2) St. Anne’s Catholic School, and 3) Duchene Academy. My mother worked as a Harris County Judge and wanted me to have the best education. I am grateful for my mother’s commitment to my education but my experiences as a young child in these schools presented a cultural void. I recall feeling isolated from my peers as the only Black student, and as middle school approached, I begged my mother to send me to public school so I could be around other Black children. During the week, I felt like the only Black girl in town but I went to an African American Baptist church every Sunday. My church peers attended public school and would share experiences that I felt I could not have in private school. After multiple complaints, my mother caved and allowed me to attend public school for sixth grade.
Unbeknownst to my personal identity crisis, I was excited to see how “other people” lived on my first day of sixth grade. Arriving to campus, having attended three different elementary schools, I was confident that I would make new friends. Ignoring the awkwardness of people staring at my new school gear, I set out to enjoy public school. The first shock was receiving recycled textbooks containing ripped out pages and markings from previous owners. The second shocker came at lunchtime where I noticed that I left an all-White school for an all-Black school. I wanted to be around other Black kids but not this many Black kids. Inside, I felt White and thought I was about to star in the sequel to “Lean on Me” in the hallways of this school. While waiting for the bus at the end of the day I realized I lost my pencil bag. I wanted to take notes on the way home so I asked a student standing next to me to borrow her pen. Like me, she was dark-skinned African American but seemed to be popular. Oblivious to the cigarette she was smoking and that she uttered a curse word in every sentence, I said to myself, “Surely, she has an extra pen.” I made my approach and before I could finish my request, she slammed my head into a cement pillar—suddenly I was in my first school fight. After she hit me a few more times, someone else yanked my new tennis shoes off me. The bus pulled up, ending the altercation, and all of us boarded as if nothing happened. During the ride, students told me that I talked like a “White girl” and teased me for having a preppy accent. At my stop, the bus erupted in laughter as I exited with no shoes. Apparently being Black was only safe on Sundays.
My mother divorced my father when I was eighteen months old. He never gave me anything but on that day, I wished he would have at least given me his fair skin tone. Ego kept me from begging my mother to return me to private school, so I never returned. Instead, I identified myself as the dark-skinned Black girl who talked like a White girl and lived in a big house. Reciting ten Hail Mary’s from my Catholic school days offered no protection from the adults on Sundays experiencing the Holy Ghost in Baptist Church. Needless to say, these were very confusing years. Making friends was tabled, as my only goal was to get to and from school without getting beat up or having my shoes stolen. Eventually I did make friends, but the shame and contradictions of being African American stayed with me well into adulthood.
In high school, I was drawn to the White students, enjoyed listening to rock music and wore gothic clothes. To balance this cultural rebellion, I joined the dance team and cheerleading squad but those activities felt more like work than fun. Instead, I preferred the drama club. Performing roles in Shakespeare plays were safe because I did not have to be Black or White—the role was already defined. I had an idea that I would not enjoy high school before it began so in eighth grade and during each high school break I took extra courses in summertime hoping to earn enough credits to quickly escape high school. After only two school years of high school, I graduated in 1996 at age sixteen.
I attended community college before transferring to the Downtown campus of the University of Houston. At age eighteen I got my first job in a law firm as a Legal Secretary and I attended college as a full-time night student. Over the years, and under the apprenticeship of several attorneys, I was promoted into various Legal Assistant and Paralegal roles. I graduated college with honors in 2003 and took my criminal justice degree to the Police Academy which I successfully completed in 2005. After the police academy, I continued to work as a Legal Assistant and Paralegal until my first commission as a police officer for The City of Galveston in 2007. My best memories of being a police officer was that, again, I was neither Black or White, I was Blue. My career in law enforcement did not ultimately resolve my ongoing identity crisis but the experience of interacting with people on what is, in many cases, the worst day of their lives, provided me with a unique understanding my place in the world as a Black woman. I returned to Paralegal work in 2010 having left the police department in good standing.
Over the last five years, I have looked inward and committed to a lifestyle of healthy eating and regular exercise in what has proven to be a successful effort in make peace with who I am, and the wonderful gifts God has given me. I was reintroduced to [My Name] and have celebrated five years of healthy living this month. The reality of self is quite delightful. The ability to articulate my speech with clarity and to write at a reasonable level of proficiency as an African American woman is no longer shameful.
I became a Paralegal by asking questions and maintaining an eagerness to learn the legal process. Many people have told me that my paralegal career will serve as an advantage to success in law school. Although I have attained a unique set of skills that will assist me as a student of law, my paralegal experience is a reminder of how much more I must learn in law school. As a paralegal, my role is to expedite work product but law school will teach me how to think as an attorney. I have read, researched and shepardized hundreds of cases over the years but due to the task-oriented nature of my role as a Paralegal, I do not have the luxury of studying case law—an activity I look forward to doing as a law school student.
I was not supposed to go to law school right out of college. God provided enough time for me to resolve my identity confusion and grow into the proud Black woman that I am today. With the support of my family and after much thought and prayer, I confidently submit my application to law school. I am applying to [Law School Name] because I want to be a lawyer and I want to graduate from a historically Black college with a rich history and ties to the Houston community. Thus far, the peaks and valleys of my personal and professional life have positioned me to be a positive and successful law school student, and more importantly a successfully attorney that will make [Law School Name] proud. For the first time in my life, I have an opportunity to be a full-time student and follow on what I believe is my professional calling. Having matured to a place of readiness for this chapter in my life—now is the time to apply to law school.
