There are feelings throughout my life I have struggled with – feelings of guilt, anger, and frustration. Most of it can somehow be traced back to the location I was born in. You see, I was born in the United States of America. I am a U.S. citizen and have lived here my entire life. I grew up knowing the opportunities that has offered me. Opportunities that no one in my family, up until that point, had ever had. A life unlike anything we’d ever known.

How do I grapple with being the highest paid earner in the history of my immediate family before the age of 30? Why is it me that gets to work at home, next to my dog, in sweats, while my mom gets up every morning to clean other people’s bathrooms? People, mind you, that have assumed she is less intelligent than them because of her accent. People that have been absolutely shocked a house cleaners daughter could have possibly been a chemical engineer. How come I get to reap the benefits that the generations before me slaved themselves to sow? 

None of this means I haven’t had hard times in life or that I haven’t worked my ass off to get where I am. Yet everyone else worked hard too… they just didn’t get the privilege to reap the benefits I do. I don’t know how to not feel guilty for that. I don’t know if and when I will accept that this is simply how life is. Yes, generations before me pushed themselves so one day someone could be here and, yes, I’ll push myself so that more doors can be opened for others to come, but that doesn’t mean everyone before me didn’t deserve the chances I have ( and more ! ) too. 

It’s something I have to just know and accept. But I don’t want to. I will always believe that everyone in this life, regardless of their efforts personally leading me where I am, deserves a life better than the one handed to all of us. I don’t care how society defines people’s worth. I know each and every person is priceless. Ever since I was little, whenever things were unfair, I’d ask my mom “asi es la vida?” and she’s would answer “asi es la vida.” Such is life. It’s unfair. It’s ugly. It’s cruel. It’s tragic. It’s also plentiful, astonishing, inspiring, and magical. We do not get to choose the parts of it we get to see, but that doesn’t take away from its aspects all the same.

I can’t help but believing that because of this those of us that get to marvel more than suffer have a societal responsibility to try to make that more of a possibility for others. I don’t know if that is an unfair take, but I do know that without the help of someone that owed me nothing, I wouldn’t be where I am. Without those that saw a young girl in need of a bit more support than her family or circumstances could provide, I wouldn’t have been able to get the degree and land the job. And now that I’m here, I can’t be the person that ignores my ability to be there for someone else.

I have privilege because of where I was born – more privilege than the previous generations in my immediate family. I was also very underprivileged compared to the majority around me in that same place. There were many around me that used their own privilege to lend me a helping hand. Regardless of the level of privilege, privilege is power, and power can & should be used for good. I refuse to the the being that sits in the privilege handed to me without using it. I refuse to deny others that don’t have that same privilege the chance to have a say, the chance to have rights, the chance to have that same power. 

I am the proud daughter of immigrants. I have simmered in anger as people have looked down on the people I owe my life to because of their skin color, their accent, and the way they chose to seek a better opportunity than the one they found themselves in. I have felt frustrated and betrayed knowing some of those that claim to love me don’t posses even a fraction of the care and consideration I have for them.  I wouldn’t support any policy, person, or organization that wanted to harm them or others like them, but many surrounding me do for me and mine. How do you look people that claim to care for you in the eye, knowing damn well they have never cared as much as you do for them, without raging into oblivion?

I feel shame that I have so much anger, so much turmoil, and guilt. I have a good life for crying out loud. I have opportunities that, more often than not, I don’t even feel I deserve. I am not, however, meant to understand those that sit in the high chair of their privilege. I am incapable of living a dispassionate life. I will be bold. I will be loud. I will shape that anger and guilt to use the power afforded to me, to leave the world better for others than how I’ve found it. I will fight for people’s rights. I will stand for people’s dignity.

The bizarre thing is… if we all did it, if we all willed it, people’s pain, people’s suffering, it could stop tomorrow. May I live to see the day – Power to the People.