ME v. ME: No Footsteps to Follow
"Hey, Carolina Firsts!"
Every week, like clockwork, that email lands in my inbox. I don’t remember signing up for the Carolina Firsts program, but somehow, I've been on their listserv since freshman year. The workshops and resources they offer sound helpful, and I’m thankful that UNC provides a support system like this. But the truth is, an email a week can’t fix the fact that college was a completely foreign landscape for me. It’s not just about deadlines or office hours—it’s the intangible stuff, the things you don’t even know until you’re knee-deep in them.
For me, being first-gen wasn’t something I immediately identified with. UNC defines a first-generation college student as someone whose parents didn’t complete a four-year degree, and technically, I check that box. My mom earned an associate’s degree at community college while pregnant with me, and my dad decided that college didn’t offer enough return on investment for him, so he went full throttle into the working world and built our family business brick by brick.
Most people don’t expect me to be first-gen and are usually surprised when I tell them. In reality, though, the challenges were everywhere, just quieter. I wasn’t like my friends, whose parents had been through the system and could offer guidance on everything from applying to colleges to navigating campus life. I didn’t have someone walking me through FAFSA or explaining how housing works. During freshman year, my friends would talk about things that seemed second nature to them, and I would nod along, pretending I knew exactly what they were talking about. The truth? I was clueless. When I wasn’t figuring it out on my own, I was teaching my parents how things worked. They offered all the support they could, but it wasn’t the same as being able to relate.
I learned to rely on my own problem-solving skills, to seek out the answers on my own, and to embrace the independence that came with navigating college. Where others had their parents to fall back on, I had my friends, and I leaned on them heavily. Sometimes, I even found myself learning from their parents, listening to their advice, and using it to piece together the bigger picture. It was like building a puzzle without the reference image, but over time, I figured out how the pieces fit. It felt isolating at times, realizing that while others had a built-in support system, I was building mine from scratch.
One of the most rewarding parts of my journey has been the ability to share what I’ve learned with my younger brother. When he started applying to colleges, I became his guide—the person I wished I’d had. From helping him with applications to offering advice on balancing classes and social life, I was there to answer the questions I once had struggled with myself. In this role reversal, I realized how far I had come, not just as a student but as a person.
I remember a conversation with my dad during my brother’s first semester. He told me about how he had to figure out life on his own—how he started businesses, made connections, and learned life skills in the professional world. “There’s no instruction manual,” he said. “You just have to keep your head down and figure it out.” I laughed because, unbeknownst to him, that’s exactly how I had felt about college. But looking back, I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything.
Being a first-generation student has taught me more than I ever expected. It’s not just about the label—it’s about learning to pave the way, to be adaptable, and to thrive in the face of uncertainty. And though I may have felt like I was in the dark at times, I know now that the challenges made me stronger, more capable, and, honestly, really proud of myself. And to my parents: I wouldn't be here without you!
