From the Trailer House to the White House

An American Story

I always wore black socks.

When I was in the early days of high school I would put them on and slip on my favorite—and only—pair of fitting shoes. A pair of black vans. I wore the black socks because it made it harder to notice the increasingly large hole at the top of my left shoe.

The shoes were a gift—a true luxury given to me by my parents to start 9th grade. I wore them until I couldn’t hide their dilapidated nature anymore.

I had all kinds of tricks like this throughout my childhood, the most tiring being washing clothes by hand in the bathtub since we didn’t have our own washer or dryer. I understood early in life that I didn’t have the same fiscal upbringing as many of my friends in school, and I was okay with it. Until the reality of privilege and security was looking me directly in the eye.

It was an acceptance letter to a private University here in Texas. I had applied to go to college there, wondering if I could get in. I could. I had spent high school focusing on as many extracurriculars and academics as possible, hoping that I’d be able to get a scholarship. My senior year, I was President of the student council, the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and the Senior class. I was editor of the yearbook, and my peers even elected me to be prom queen. I finished with a 3.68 GPA (not as good as I was hoping for but considering I later found out I had been undiagnosed ADHD my entire life without any kind of medication, I’d say I did well!)

But it wasn’t enough. Even with scholarships, I would still have to take out student loans to attend University. I looked around at my life. I had a single parent household, no savings account to help pay for my college, and no way to take out a loan without setting myself back in life further than I already was. I knew then that my options weren’t the ones I’d dreamed of, and reality set in.

While my friends all packed their bags and shipped off to schools I dreamed of attending like the University of Texas or Texas A&M, I spent the last few weeks of the summer researching classes I could take online. I enrolled and eventually the tuition bill came. It was dramatically more affordable than the schools I'd applied to, but even with the few scholarships I'd been awarded I still fell short of covering it all.

One of my closest friends' mothers worked at the junior college I was planning to attend. She willingly sat down with me to guide me through the process of filing my FAFSA so I could hopefully receive some grants. It was in that meeting that she asked me If I had applied for the extra grant money sent to junior colleges due to the pandemic. I hadn’t, but that night when I went home I made sure to.

When President Joe Biden signed the American Rescue Plan into law it included funding to the Higher Education Emergency Relief Fund—over $39 billion. It was meant to support institutions of higher learning so students could continue their education during the Covid-19 pandemic.

6 million community college students received direct financial aid—I was one of them.

Between the scholarships I'd gotten, a Pell grant, and the ARP—I would be able to finish my freshman year of college debt-free. When I realized this I sobbed uncontrollably. It may seem silly to some, but considering no one in my immediate family had graduated from college it was a big deal to me.

At the time, I was a content creator, making TikToks in my childhood bedroom that supported the Democratic party and advocated for abortion access. I had no idea that it would turn into a full-fledged career.

I had no idea it would turn into a speaking role at the 2024 Democratic National Convention.

I would leave the convention in Chicago and head back home to Houston, where I continued my junior year of college. I take classes online and I am just a few years away from completing my Bachelors of Science degree—political science of course.

(I’d be finished sooner if I didn’t keep taking time off for elections!)

My story is an American story.

One of the young girl who’s great grandparents came to America from Mexico hoping to give her a better life.

One of the students who dreamed of something more.

One of the Americans whose life was changed because of Joe Biden's Presidency.

I would tell this to the President, tears in my eyes, standing in the middle of the Oval Office. He held my hand and told me that is exactly why Democrats do what they do– to help people. Right before this, President Biden briefly spoke to a small group of my peers in the Roosevelt Room. Behind him as he spoke was a portrait of President Franklin D. Roosevelt. The image of them side by side will be etched into my memory forever.

In his inaugural address on January 20th, 1937, President Roosevelt said: “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little.”

Many Americans regard FDR as the most transformational President in American history.

For me, that President is Joe Biden. Because he helped make my American dream come true.

My story is just one of many whose life was changed by this administration. When I eventually walk across the stage for my college graduation, it will be in part because of the leadership that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris provided to this country in a time of great hardship.

I firmly believe that in time, this administration will be regarded as one of the greatest in American history. When that time comes, I will be eager to share my story once again—grateful to the boy from Scranton and the girl from Oakland who didn’t forget about those who had too little.