What a Master’s Degree Means When You’re an Immigrant’s Daughter—and a New Librarian

From the time I first entered school, I was taught the value of education on my life. I was told to do well in school, pay attention in class, and turn in assignments on time so that I would do well and set a strong foundation for the next stage of schooling.

Being the daughter of an immigrant parent, I saw how the level of education you attained could impact your job, career prospects or limitations, aspirations for the future, ability to attain a certain ideal level of success, and even people’s perceptions of you. I don’t know that I always took it seriously but this year, I became the second person in my family tree to graduate with a Master’s degree and the first to attain a degree in Library and Information Science. For me, it’s a point of pride, an undeniable and complicated status symbol, and an academic and professional commitment to my field all at the same time.

Now, I’m not a big believer in the idea that everyone should go to college regardless of what they want to do in their career, especially if they don’t know what they want to do. I don’t think having a diploma or degree says anything about or has an impact on your intelligence and the kind of person you are in this life. And thanks to past presidential administrations, there are many reasons that people, particularly BIPOC, can’t pursue any level of higher education due to the financial constraints that it bears and the debt you’re left in after you’re done.

I’ll be the first to say that, as I’ve pursued my various degrees, I’ve been both lucky and privileged to have the moral and financial support of my parents and extended family, support that many people lack. In fact, many of us now hold formal degrees. My paternal grandparents both have Bachelor’s degrees, my parents earned their Associate’s degrees, one of my cousins is pursuing a Master’s, and a couple of my second cousins are either currently in college working toward their Bachelor’s or are about to start.

But it certainly wasn’t always this way, and the many types of barriers that my family has faced throughout generations still linger with us today. Growing up in a poor, small town in Mexico, my maternal grandmother had to drop out of school when she was in the sixth grade and never went back. My paternal grandparents spent much of their married life struggling to make ends meet to feed and take care of their five children. I’ve had family members sent to mental institutions against their will and go hungry and sell wares in the street to survive.

Knowing what we’ve been through, I’ve been lucky to not face those struggles myself. The fact that I now have a Master’s is frankly nothing short of a miracle. I originally applied in 2023 after having a rough few months being rejected from eight Master’s in Fine Arts programs, which focus on creative writing. Realizing I needed a major change in direction, I decided to apply for a Library and Information Science degree, which I would need in order to become a librarian. I’ve always worked with books in some capacity throughout my professional life as an author, book publicist, magazine editor, and publishers, so it wasn’t completely out of left field. Plus, for a long time, libraries have been the lifeblood of BIPOC and working-class families and communities. As a child, I would accompany my dad to our local branch so he could check out DVDs, CDs, and a few picture books for me. I saw how much they improve the lives of others and wanted to play a part in that mission and impact.

So I applied to Syracuse University for their online program… but only to Syracuse. I had no other safety options, thinking that if I didn’t get it in, it was clearly a sign for me to think of Plan B, C, and D. I had just applied and been rejected from eight schools for an MFA and frankly, I was tired of the rejection. In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t my smartest decision but thankfully, I did get accepted! And that’s meant that the past year and a half of my life has been full of late nights, frustrating group projects, times when I was ready to give up. I doubted myself. I had breakdowns. I struggled at times to prioritize work, school, and family all at the same time. My parents and I had to take out loans and pay a small bit out of pocket so I could stay enrolled.

But I’ve also learned and done so much more than I thought I would. For the purposes of assignments, I’ve interviewed professional librarians, created event and program proposals and lesson plans, written dissertation-length final assignments, practiced complex research methods, built catalog guides, and so much more. I was even able to apply what I was learning about into practice at my job as a clerk at a local public library, creating a dynamic blend of theory and practicum.

For myself, I have even been able to dispel many of the myths I think we often tell ourselves about libraries. Now don’t get me wrong, it remains one of my favorite places in the world to go. But it’s worth saying that public libraries in this country willingly participated in segregation during the Jim Crow era. They often create and enforce policies that can harm unhoused and working-class communities. Thankfully, a few years ago, I was happy to hear that many libraries across the U.S. were getting rid of late fees so as to alleviate some of the financial hardships our users experience and the negative connotations they may have about the library. They’ve also expanded their services to include Makerspaces and Bookmobiles, as well as services to help with taxes, immigration, and housing.

But we clearly have more work left to do. Now that I have my degree, I’m excited to become a librarian and make a difference for all those who call the library their safe place. And for my family, I hope I can be an example of what academic and professional success can look like while still being able to follow my dreams, pursue my passions, and build the fruitful life I want for myself. Being the second person to attain a Master’s degree was no small feat and I’m trying to do a better job of celebrating every one of my accomplishments. Of course, while it might not guarantee that I’ll always be financially or professionally protected (and in this economy, who is really?), it does give voice to all the hard work I’ve done throughout the last eight years. It’s a testament to what my family has endured on both sides of the border and the strength I have carried and will continue to carry for the rest of my life.