By Janae Brissett, Student Support Coordinator
I was born in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Neither of my parents graduated from high school; however, they built a very successful life for themselves, and a good life for their children, full of warmth and opportunity. The idea of being “first-generation” didn’t exist to me; my world was already thriving.
That comfortable perspective vanished the day I migrated to Mississippi. Suddenly, my parents’ lack of a diploma felt like a huge sign on my forehead. The instant I started meeting peers, the truth became too heavy to carry. When asked about my parents’ schooling, I would immediately offer a protective lie. I’d tell them, “Mom went to college, and my dad went to trade school.”
Why would I lie when they created such a good life for me? I guess if I’m being honest, I was just ashamed now that I was in a country that focused heavily on social capital. I guess it was instinct to try to blend in with people in a state where, at the time, traveling was so limited for them that their idea of Jamaica was Bob Marley and the movie Shottas.
Looking back, I am disappointed in my answers.
This identity crisis peaked during the college application process, especially with the form that will haunt every first-gen student forever: FAFSA I went through this with two extremely wary parents who viewed the process as a potential government raid. They looked at that financial aid form like the university was asking for their bank vault combinations.
My mother’s skepticism about handing over their Social Security number was palpable, as if they were secretly hiding the fortunes of the Crown Jewels.
“Why the school need all ah dis information, Janae? Dem think we Bill Gates or something?”
The joke was funny, but the reality was isolating. I had no guidance, only high-alert suspicion, constantly, about everything!
After I entered college, that’s when the heavy burden of cultural approval and academic performance took hold. I wasn’t just working toward my success; I was fighting for generational validation. I felt like I was wearing a target for my lineage, and the pressure was relentless. Nothing less than a 95 was acceptable, because anything lower was not just a poor grade, but a disappointment for someone getting schooling in “farrin.”
Who do you call when you’re supposed to be proofreading a thesis, and you’re the first person in your entire family even to know what a thesis is? It was a lonely road where expectations were impossibly high and practical support was nonexistent. I was breaking the cycle, but I had to do it silently and perfectly.
Today, I stand as the door-opener. I am in the final stages of completing my doctorate and will be the first in my entire family to do so. I’ve become the accidental consultant, helping other family members through the same systems that baffled me.
I’ve also learned to give grace when I hear the classic Jamaican chorus: “Yuh still a write paper?” or “Yo nuh done wid school yet, my gosh!” They simply can’t conceptualize a journey they’ve never been on. I have to be emotionally aware that my path is incomprehensible to them.
Being first-gen is an intense, hilarious, and defining privilege. We are the cycle-breakers, the new generation makers, and we use the maps we bled to create to guide everyone who comes next.
Learn how Goodwin University is supporting first-generation students.
Goodwin University is a nonprofit institution of higher education and is accredited by the New England Commission of Higher Education (NECHE), formerly known as the New England Association of Schools and Colleges (NEASC). Goodwin University was founded in 1999, with the goal of serving a diverse student population with career-focused degree programs that lead to strong employment outcomes.