Since many TLSers asked, here are my YLS essays. Forum

[KENYADIGG1T]

Personal Statement

[+] Spoiler

As a high school senior, I discovered the term anagnorisis. In ancient Greek literature, anagnorisis signifies a critical discovery; the protagonist sees things as they are, free of fantastical considerations. The first anagnorisis of many came on September 19, 2010, when I discovered my undocumented status. When applying to college, I thought I forgot my Social Security Number. I asked my mum, who admitted I had none. I sat stoic, unable to conceive of the import that her words possessed, but as time progressed I then saw things as they were: bleak. College became an impossibility. After graduating from high school, I withdrew from the idea of college due to an insurmountable $10,000 bill. Further, I could not work and contribute to my household because of my immigration status.

Nevertheless, in January 2012, my mum somehow put money together and recommended that I attend the local community college. With no expectation of graduation—my mother only had money for one semester, mind you—I took four philosophy courses in my first semester. As abstract as it seemed, philosophy gave me the language to understand my experience. It became apparent that a philosophical understanding of law and immigration—what it means for law to call people “illegal” or “alien”— exposes deeply-held assumptions, such as those undergirding the state’s authority to control the status and substance of citizenship. That summer, President Barack Obama issued Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which provided critical protection from deportation. At the same time, I also came across activism surrounding Maryland’s DREAM Act, which allows undocumented students to pay in-state tuition at Maryland’s public colleges and universities. In tandem, these policies allowed me to complete my Associate’s Degree.

Having transferred to the City College of New York, I received an invitation to study law and philosophy as part of the CCNY/Stanford Exchange. I remember telling my advisor Professor Eamonn Callan that my project, which argued that undocumented immigrants ought to be eligible for citizenship, seemed to be going nowhere, to which he responded “Argue what you care about.” In that simple moment, all my fears—ranging from “Am I an impostor?” to “Why am I wasting my journey of upward mobility on philosophy, of all things?”—went away. I came away from the experience convinced of both philosophy’s potential as an engine for justice in our time and of my capacity to help realize this potential.

Armed with the motivation that self-discovery provides, I continued to argue what I care about, looking for interdisciplinary vantages from which to view noncitizenship. At CCNY, I co-designed and co-taught the inaugural Black Political Thought course with Professor R. B. Bernstein in 2016, remedying the school’s decades-long lack of such a course. Given my professorial ambitions, developing a syllabus, selecting readings, lecturing before a class, and leading class discussions on how law has differentially related to those who are subject to it affirmed my sense of belonging in legal academia. Developing the course’s pedagogy further contextualized the intersections of my blackness and my being not only undocumented, but illegal. I realized that if law is to be critical in the anti-racist project, society must exorcise the specter of racism that is enmeshed in its legal institutions.

I took this recognition with me, applying it to my doctoral studies. As a PhD student in Jurisprudence and Social Policy at UC Berkeley, I interrogate the contemporary plight of noncitizens, employing philosophy as a disciplinary lens. And though law was my object of study, the 2016 presidential election, which elevated an anti-immigrant demagogue to the world’s most powerful political office, gave me a fear that I had not felt since my anagnorisis. With the fear, however, came yet another defining anagnorisis. I have the privilege of being an immigrant labeled “illegal” who is producing scholarship at a world-class institution; I thus have an obligation to expand opportunities for people like me. Damaging narratives concerning immigrants both find their way into and become solidified through law. Thus, my goal of becoming a legal philosopher and law professor hinges on bringing hitherto silenced voices into the debate. I plan to operationalize my advocacy through training a generation of lawyers who are advocates for underserved communities.

To close, my experiences show me America’s distance from its professed ideals, motivating me to make significant contributions in law, epistemology, and public discourse with a PhD from UC Berkeley and a JD from Yale Law. The Yale Law curriculum, which encourages a particularized course of independent study; the Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities, which would give me an opportunity to blend philosophy, law, and migration in my scholarship; and the Yale Law Teaching Series, which will prepare me for a long and productive career in legal academia, will allow me to bridge thought and action from a perspective that attends to critical issues of variegated citizenship. More importantly, such a perspective will facilitate important contributions to how students, academics, and immigrant communities interrogate legal institutions, providing each their own anagnorisis.

Y250

[+] Spoiler

When we talk about the 12 million people without status in the US, our language is key. Depending on who is talking, we are either “illegal” or “undocumented.”

“Illegal”, though dehumanizing, is accurate. Though I believe that no human being ought to be illegal, the law can and does refer to us as “illegal aliens”. This usage is important because the terms embedded within law allow the public to conflate what is legal with what is right.

“Undocumented,” however, suggests that lacking status is not a choice, but rather an effect of escaping poverty, violence, or lack of opportunity. However, while “undocumented”’ succeeds in humanizing us, it fails to describe what we deal with daily. Undocumented immigrants in fact have documents: diplomas, medical records, certifications. “Papers” are clearly not the problem.

And even if we get status, what then? As the Black Lives Matter movement makes clear, formal citizenship means nothing if some are systemically oppressed, prevented from enjoying their rights.

Thus, I argue that, when discussing those without status, the term “illegalized” is preferable to “illegal” and “undocumented”, because it captures the ongoing, dynamic processes by which legal institutions marginalize people based on their social identities, denying them due recognition under the law.

“Illegalization” as a lens is important because while the terms we use must recognize our humanity, those terms—and the analytical frameworks motivating them—must also interrogate the world in which we live. Combating illegalization is an international, intersectional, and interdisciplinary mission we all must undertake.

[AaronCarter]

Personal Statement

[+] Spoiler

As a high school senior, I discovered the term anagnorisis. In ancient Greek literature, anagnorisis signifies a critical discovery; the protagonist sees things as they are, free of fantastical considerations. The first anagnorisis of many came on September 19, 2010, when I discovered my undocumented status. When applying to college, I thought I forgot my Social Security Number. I asked my mum, who admitted I had none. I sat stoic, unable to conceive of the import that her words possessed, but as time progressed I then saw things as they were: bleak. College became an impossibility. After graduating from high school, I withdrew from the idea of college due to an insurmountable $10,000 bill. Further, I could not work and contribute to my household because of my immigration status.

Nevertheless, in January 2012, my mum somehow put money together and recommended that I attend the local community college. With no expectation of graduation—my mother only had money for one semester, mind you—I took four philosophy courses in my first semester. As abstract as it seemed, philosophy gave me the language to understand my experience. It became apparent that a philosophical understanding of law and immigration—what it means for law to call people “illegal” or “alien”— exposes deeply-held assumptions, such as those undergirding the state’s authority to control the status and substance of citizenship. That summer, President Barack Obama issued Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which provided critical protection from deportation. At the same time, I also came across activism surrounding Maryland’s DREAM Act, which allows undocumented students to pay in-state tuition at Maryland’s public colleges and universities. In tandem, these policies allowed me to complete my Associate’s Degree.

Having transferred to the City College of New York, I received an invitation to study law and philosophy as part of the CCNY/Stanford Exchange. I remember telling my advisor Professor Eamonn Callan that my project, which argued that undocumented immigrants ought to be eligible for citizenship, seemed to be going nowhere, to which he responded “Argue what you care about.” In that simple moment, all my fears—ranging from “Am I an impostor?” to “Why am I wasting my journey of upward mobility on philosophy, of all things?”—went away. I came away from the experience convinced of both philosophy’s potential as an engine for justice in our time and of my capacity to help realize this potential.

Armed with the motivation that self-discovery provides, I continued to argue what I care about, looking for interdisciplinary vantages from which to view noncitizenship. At CCNY, I co-designed and co-taught the inaugural Black Political Thought course with Professor R. B. Bernstein in 2016, remedying the school’s decades-long lack of such a course. Given my professorial ambitions, developing a syllabus, selecting readings, lecturing before a class, and leading class discussions on how law has differentially related to those who are subject to it affirmed my sense of belonging in legal academia. Developing the course’s pedagogy further contextualized the intersections of my blackness and my being not only undocumented, but illegal. I realized that if law is to be critical in the anti-racist project, society must exorcise the specter of racism that is enmeshed in its legal institutions.

I took this recognition with me, applying it to my doctoral studies. As a PhD student in Jurisprudence and Social Policy at UC Berkeley, I interrogate the contemporary plight of noncitizens, employing philosophy as a disciplinary lens. And though law was my object of study, the 2016 presidential election, which elevated an anti-immigrant demagogue to the world’s most powerful political office, gave me a fear that I had not felt since my anagnorisis. With the fear, however, came yet another defining anagnorisis. I have the privilege of being an immigrant labeled “illegal” who is producing scholarship at a world-class institution; I thus have an obligation to expand opportunities for people like me. Damaging narratives concerning immigrants both find their way into and become solidified through law. Thus, my goal of becoming a legal philosopher and law professor hinges on bringing hitherto silenced voices into the debate. I plan to operationalize my advocacy through training a generation of lawyers who are advocates for underserved communities.

To close, my experiences show me America’s distance from its professed ideals, motivating me to make significant contributions in law, epistemology, and public discourse with a PhD from UC Berkeley and a JD from Yale Law. The Yale Law curriculum, which encourages a particularized course of independent study; the Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities, which would give me an opportunity to blend philosophy, law, and migration in my scholarship; and the Yale Law Teaching Series, which will prepare me for a long and productive career in legal academia, will allow me to bridge thought and action from a perspective that attends to critical issues of variegated citizenship. More importantly, such a perspective will facilitate important contributions to how students, academics, and immigrant communities interrogate legal institutions, providing each their own anagnorisis.

Y250

[+] Spoiler

When we talk about the 12 million people without status in the US, our language is key. Depending on who is talking, we are either “illegal” or “undocumented.”

“Illegal”, though dehumanizing, is accurate. Though I believe that no human being ought to be illegal, the law can and does refer to us as “illegal aliens”. This usage is important because the terms embedded within law allow the public to conflate what is legal with what is right.

“Undocumented,” however, suggests that lacking status is not a choice, but rather an effect of escaping poverty, violence, or lack of opportunity. However, while “undocumented”’ succeeds in humanizing us, it fails to describe what we deal with daily. Undocumented immigrants in fact have documents: diplomas, medical records, certifications. “Papers” are clearly not the problem.

And even if we get status, what then? As the Black Lives Matter movement makes clear, formal citizenship means nothing if some are systemically oppressed, prevented from enjoying their rights.

Thus, I argue that, when discussing those without status, the term “illegalized” is preferable to “illegal” and “undocumented”, because it captures the ongoing, dynamic processes by which legal institutions marginalize people based on their social identities, denying them due recognition under the law.

“Illegalization” as a lens is important because while the terms we use must recognize our humanity, those terms—and the analytical frameworks motivating them—must also interrogate the world in which we live. Combating illegalization is an international, intersectional, and interdisciplinary mission we all must undertake.

1. Congratulations on all your success. I know you’ll continue to have much more!

2. Based on this PS, I now realize that I in fact have shit softs.

[thepsychedelic]

Whenever someone asks about the strength of their softs, they should just be directed here. These are amazing, and congratulations!!

[Amerision]

Holy shit, I was reading the PS and kind of like "wow, this is amazing" -- and then I got to the part about your college. I'm a CCNY student as well! It's absolutely incredible to hear about your story in the context of a current student. I know Professor Bernstein and the BPT course he just taught. Fantastic essays, and best of luck to you. Thanks for the inspiration, from another CUNY student.

[KENYADIGG1T]

Holy shit, I was reading the PS and kind of like "wow, this is amazing" -- and then I got to the part about your college. I'm a CCNY student as well! It's absolutely incredible to hear about your story in the context of a current student. I know Professor Bernstein and the BPT course he just taught. Fantastic essays, and best of luck to you. Thanks for the inspiration, from another CUNY student.

Whoa no way! Are you in Skadden perhaps? Let's connect!

[anacabana]

This is amazing, I see why Yale wanted you.

I applied as a K-JD, and I feel like my personal statement is so immature in comparison to yours

But thanks for sharing, sounds like you have an extremely bright future ahead of you

[Barack O'Drama]

Thanks so much for this! And congrats my man!

[JS2hopeful]

I'm sure a lot of people on here, while happy for you, have been quite upset and jealous and wondering what makes you any better of an applicant than them. The way law schools over emphasis numbers has driven so many on here to believe that their strong numbers make them a deserving candidate everywhere, and to an extent, they do. But I think you posting these essays takes a lot of mystery out of the Yale admissions. It is not that it is necessarily a black box, it just requires a special person (or at least narrative) behind the numbers. It gives a little substance between the difference in admits for just Harvard vs. Yale.

[purpleplatypus]

These are really great. It's clear how much energy and thought you put not just into your essays, but into the purpose of your work. We need smart people fighting for justice in our world, and after reading your essays I'm really excited that you will be one of them. Yale is very lucky to have you!

[tinycatfriend]

JD/PhD for the win! That's amazing, and I'm genuinely so happy for you - you're going to kickass, and, from one academia professional to another, have fun with your bright future of constant grant writing!

(Yes, I am working on a Friday because we need to get some grants in...)

[38981928]

So amazing! I know you will achieve all your goals! I don't even know you and I'm so proud of you! Enjoy YLS and beyond!!!

[AvatarMeelo]

damnit brb need to go do an overhaul of my essays

on the realz tho - this is amazing and im so happy to see all your successes and can't wait to hear your name in legal academia!!

[doglawin]

I don’t know you, but I just want to say how proud of you I am, as an immigrant and in general.

You’re the type of person I always emphasize when I end up in an inevitable conversations on immigration and immigration policy- you are better than me and many of us, regardless of your immigration status, and people fail to see that.

I have DACAmented cousins I will be sharing this with, because it is truly inspiring and I suspect it will further encourage them in seeking their goals.

Really, I applaud you and give you my utmost respect. I wish you nothing but further success at YSL!

[KENYADIGG1T]

Thank you all for the messages of support. I am deeply honored and humbled. Best of luck to you all in your application journey, and happy holidays!

[Amerision]

Holy shit, I was reading the PS and kind of like "wow, this is amazing" -- and then I got to the part about your college. I'm a CCNY student as well! It's absolutely incredible to hear about your story in the context of a current student. I know Professor Bernstein and the BPT course he just taught. Fantastic essays, and best of luck to you. Thanks for the inspiration, from another CUNY student.

Whoa no way! Are you in Skadden perhaps? Let's connect!

I am, yes! Are you in the city? Shoot me a message.

[KENYADIGG1T]

Holy shit, I was reading the PS and kind of like "wow, this is amazing" -- and then I got to the part about your college. I'm a CCNY student as well! It's absolutely incredible to hear about your story in the context of a current student. I know Professor Bernstein and the BPT course he just taught. Fantastic essays, and best of luck to you. Thanks for the inspiration, from another CUNY student.

Whoa no way! Are you in Skadden perhaps? Let's connect!

I am, yes! Are you in the city? Shoot me a message.

I will be in the spring; we'll definitely hang! PM me

[etramak]

.

[lawschool2018!]

Personal Statement

[+] Spoiler

As a high school senior, I discovered the term anagnorisis. In ancient Greek literature, anagnorisis signifies a critical discovery; the protagonist sees things as they are, free of fantastical considerations. The first anagnorisis of many came on September 19, 2010, when I discovered my undocumented status. When applying to college, I thought I forgot my Social Security Number. I asked my mum, who admitted I had none. I sat stoic, unable to conceive of the import that her words possessed, but as time progressed I then saw things as they were: bleak. College became an impossibility. After graduating from high school, I withdrew from the idea of college due to an insurmountable $10,000 bill. Further, I could not work and contribute to my household because of my immigration status.

Nevertheless, in January 2012, my mum somehow put money together and recommended that I attend the local community college. With no expectation of graduation—my mother only had money for one semester, mind you—I took four philosophy courses in my first semester. As abstract as it seemed, philosophy gave me the language to understand my experience. It became apparent that a philosophical understanding of law and immigration—what it means for law to call people “illegal” or “alien”— exposes deeply-held assumptions, such as those undergirding the state’s authority to control the status and substance of citizenship. That summer, President Barack Obama issued Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, which provided critical protection from deportation. At the same time, I also came across activism surrounding Maryland’s DREAM Act, which allows undocumented students to pay in-state tuition at Maryland’s public colleges and universities. In tandem, these policies allowed me to complete my Associate’s Degree.

Having transferred to the City College of New York, I received an invitation to study law and philosophy as part of the CCNY/Stanford Exchange. I remember telling my advisor Professor Eamonn Callan that my project, which argued that undocumented immigrants ought to be eligible for citizenship, seemed to be going nowhere, to which he responded “Argue what you care about.” In that simple moment, all my fears—ranging from “Am I an impostor?” to “Why am I wasting my journey of upward mobility on philosophy, of all things?”—went away. I came away from the experience convinced of both philosophy’s potential as an engine for justice in our time and of my capacity to help realize this potential.

Armed with the motivation that self-discovery provides, I continued to argue what I care about, looking for interdisciplinary vantages from which to view noncitizenship. At CCNY, I co-designed and co-taught the inaugural Black Political Thought course with Professor R. B. Bernstein in 2016, remedying the school’s decades-long lack of such a course. Given my professorial ambitions, developing a syllabus, selecting readings, lecturing before a class, and leading class discussions on how law has differentially related to those who are subject to it affirmed my sense of belonging in legal academia. Developing the course’s pedagogy further contextualized the intersections of my blackness and my being not only undocumented, but illegal. I realized that if law is to be critical in the anti-racist project, society must exorcise the specter of racism that is enmeshed in its legal institutions.

I took this recognition with me, applying it to my doctoral studies. As a PhD student in Jurisprudence and Social Policy at UC Berkeley, I interrogate the contemporary plight of noncitizens, employing philosophy as a disciplinary lens. And though law was my object of study, the 2016 presidential election, which elevated an anti-immigrant demagogue to the world’s most powerful political office, gave me a fear that I had not felt since my anagnorisis. With the fear, however, came yet another defining anagnorisis. I have the privilege of being an immigrant labeled “illegal” who is producing scholarship at a world-class institution; I thus have an obligation to expand opportunities for people like me. Damaging narratives concerning immigrants both find their way into and become solidified through law. Thus, my goal of becoming a legal philosopher and law professor hinges on bringing hitherto silenced voices into the debate. I plan to operationalize my advocacy through training a generation of lawyers who are advocates for underserved communities.

To close, my experiences show me America’s distance from its professed ideals, motivating me to make significant contributions in law, epistemology, and public discourse with a PhD from UC Berkeley and a JD from Yale Law. The Yale Law curriculum, which encourages a particularized course of independent study; the Yale Journal of Law & the Humanities, which would give me an opportunity to blend philosophy, law, and migration in my scholarship; and the Yale Law Teaching Series, which will prepare me for a long and productive career in legal academia, will allow me to bridge thought and action from a perspective that attends to critical issues of variegated citizenship. More importantly, such a perspective will facilitate important contributions to how students, academics, and immigrant communities interrogate legal institutions, providing each their own anagnorisis.

Y250

[+] Spoiler

When we talk about the 12 million people without status in the US, our language is key. Depending on who is talking, we are either “illegal” or “undocumented.”

“Illegal”, though dehumanizing, is accurate. Though I believe that no human being ought to be illegal, the law can and does refer to us as “illegal aliens”. This usage is important because the terms embedded within law allow the public to conflate what is legal with what is right.

“Undocumented,” however, suggests that lacking status is not a choice, but rather an effect of escaping poverty, violence, or lack of opportunity. However, while “undocumented”’ succeeds in humanizing us, it fails to describe what we deal with daily. Undocumented immigrants in fact have documents: diplomas, medical records, certifications. “Papers” are clearly not the problem.

And even if we get status, what then? As the Black Lives Matter movement makes clear, formal citizenship means nothing if some are systemically oppressed, prevented from enjoying their rights.

Thus, I argue that, when discussing those without status, the term “illegalized” is preferable to “illegal” and “undocumented”, because it captures the ongoing, dynamic processes by which legal institutions marginalize people based on their social identities, denying them due recognition under the law.

“Illegalization” as a lens is important because while the terms we use must recognize our humanity, those terms—and the analytical frameworks motivating them—must also interrogate the world in which we live. Combating illegalization is an international, intersectional, and interdisciplinary mission we all must undertake.

Wow great essay! Congrats! I went to CCNY as well for engineering and have a similar story as yours. Good luck with law school. I'm applying this cyle as well. Glad to see someone from City College going to Yale!!