I'm part of the 8% thanks to my parents and sister

Only 8% of Latinas in the US have a master's degree. I'm lucky to be part of that percentage (Picture: with my sister on the day of my graduation).

This one is for my parents and sister. Although more than 10 years after the fact (I graduated in December 2014), it's never too late to say thank you! I'm not a fan of attending my own graduation ceremonies, and the master's one wasn't any different. But when the time actually came, I decided to set aside my personal objections. I ended up going because I realized that this ceremony wasn't about me. It wasn't about celebrating my achievements. On the contrary, I was there to represent the many Latinas and Latinos who face so many obstacles that make a graduate diploma something impossible to attain. I was there to give my parents and sister the chance to celebrate this accomplishment, which was—in many ways—more theirs than mine. The reality is that only about 8% of Latinas in the US have a master's degree. There are plenty of reasons why that number is so low. Higher education for Latinas and Latinos is filled with challenges. The financial, cultural, social, and even systemic hurdles are real. Anecdotal evidence: I was the only Latina in every single one of my graduate classes. While I had a Latino classmate in a couple, there was no other Latina. Ever. I could probably write a book about the experience. But, again, this isn't about me. It's about the people who weren't there. The Latinos who dream of having a graduate degree, but are never given the opportunity. It's about the three people whose efforts, support, and encouragement made it possible for me to walk across that stage. While small, the 8% represents the sleepless nights, the endless shifts, and the constant work of so many. Just as there are reasons for the low percentage, there are also many reasons why the Latinas who do make up the 8% manage to cross the finish line. Each one of us is part of this statistic because of the family and community around us. Those whose sacrifices and strength make it happen, who pave the way, and who empower us to succeed. *** December 18, 2014. My graduation. I remember sitting in the Patriot Center (that's what it was called then), half daydreaming, half wondering if they'd actually pronounce my name right. But the one image that stands out, the one I hold in my memories like a framed picture hanging on the wall, is the image of my family, especially my parents and sister. I was there, literally sitting in that venue, because of the three of them. Because of them and for them. I was there for their smiles. Their joy. Their sense of achievement. But I was also there to acknowledge their sacrifices. I was there because, like many Latino families, a college degree (undergraduate or graduate) is the result of a collective effort. I did what perhaps they'd wanted to do but didn't get a chance to. I accomplished what life had, maybe, never even allowed them to dream of. My parents never said “no" to me. While paying for my graduate school dreams was financially difficult (close to impossible) for them, they never burst my bubble. They did everything they could and more. And when, despite their love and attempts, it became an impossible feat, my sister jumped in. She didn't have to. But she did. She took charge so that I could fulfill a dream that hadn't been possible for her. So, mami, papi, Carol, more than 10 years later: Thank you! I walked across that stage because of you and for you. It was because of your work, encouragement, selflessness, and commitment that I'm part of the small percentage of Latinas who can put an MA after their name.