I gave birth in April, right in the middle of final exams. I requested an epidural as soon as the reductions started, not only to ease my pain but also to help me concentrate and complete my Family Law exam. I gave it up with tears in my eyes. That instance of grit and determination in the face of adversity encapsulates my Harvard Law School experience.
It would be a huge understatement to say that my last year was challenging. It was emotionally and mentally taxing to juggle being a 24-year-old single mother, caring for a newborn, and enrolling in one of the most rigorous academic plans in the world. On some days, I was so overwhelmed that I was unable to move from my bed. Finding trustworthy crèche was a never-ending problem.
I often rushed through Wasserstein’s hallways pushing my daughter Evelyn’s stroller and suppliant with the Dean of Students’ office to watch her for a while. And Evelyn would accompany me to class when that wasn’t an option. She joined me in presence lectures during my time in law school. To tell the truth, I didn’t think I could pull it off. I genuinely questioned if I had what it took to prosper, much less survive. Instagram may give the impression that life is easy, but the reality was frequently sad and difficult. But I continued. I persevered through every edgy night, tearful morning, and self-conscious thought. And I succeeded.
With Evelyn in my arms and tears streaming down my face, I crossed the stage today to accept my Juris Doctor from Harvard Law School. The journey has been tough, full of pain and lessons in humility. I was starting just the odd one out—an unanticipated admission from a demoted group. Then, as a young Black mother without a partner, I became the statistic. For my daughter and others like us, I now pray to set an example of how to overcome adversity, change the story, and succeed. It was during Admitted Students Weekend that I made my first appearance on the Harvard campus.
Many of my peers, who were all very successful, proudly showed off their Ivy League undergraduate status. Phony syndrome hit me right away. My dad must have noticed my expression because he leaned in and said, “Are you afraid? “Hell no, man!” I said, forcing a laugh. “Good,” he said with a smile. You’re street smart, which is something they missing. You have both street smarts and book smarts. He was correct. I’m an Atlanta girl from a small town.
I was the first in my family to graduate from college, and my mom raised six kids. My older sister discreetly placed a Bible in my bag, along with a single suitcase and a pair of shoes, before I left for school. To make ends meet and pay for my education, I worked as a waitress and barman full-time in New York. I had never experienced anything like Harvard. Law school was scary. But eventually, I discovered that my background gave me power.
I discovered that my identity as a mother, a Black woman, and someone from a lower-income background influenced how I apparent the law. In order to backer for people who felt as out of place as I did, I joined clinics and fellowships and looked for classes that examined those intersections. I made friends, discovered my voice, and carved out a place for myself in a system that wasn’t designed with me in mind. I’m now thrilled to be working in the litigation department of a prestigious Los Angeles law firm, where I’ll have the chance to do worthwhile pro bono work. I’ll use my degree to create room for people who feel underrated, outnumbered, or invisible.
People said that you would prevent me from effecting law school, Evelyn. However, I want you to know that you are the reason I finished. I didn’t know I had asset until you gave it to me. I was inspired to keep fighting by you. I became supreme because of you. This degree belongs to all of us, not just me. And together, we’ll continue to refute them repeatedly.
