ALES 50 YEARS: Letter from Lower Johanna Martinez on Assimilating at PEA
When I applied to Exeter, the thought of getting in never crossed my mind. I had no idea what Exeter really was besides the “best school in the nation”. All I knew was that I needed to get out of Elizabeth, New Jersey if I ever wanted to be anyone in my life and that it was the logical next step if I wanted to go to a good college. As the daughter of Ecuadorian immigrants who gave up everything so that I could have a better life, I was not about to squander this opportunity.
"It all seemed like one big joke at first, as if someone in the Admissions office had made a mistake and accidentally accepted me."
It all seemed like one big joke at first, as if someone in the Admissions office had made a mistake and accidentally accepted me. Part of me thought that the only reason I got in was because I was a Latina from a not-so-great part of Jersey and that this would help Exeter seem more diverse. Or that they had felt so sorry for me and my experiences that they accepted me. This feeling was only intensified after I got my prep fall midterm grades and for the first time thought that I was extremely stupid. Coming from Elizabeth where I was the smartest kid and most outspoken person, my confidence dropped almost as quickly as my grades. I couldn’t help but compare myself to my peers who were doing so much better academically. In hindsight, this wasn’t the best idea because I hadn’t come from the same educational background as other students. My dad didn’t make it past middle school and my mom didn’t go to college, so it was crazy for me to think I’d do as well as kids whose parents went to Harvard and whose towns had actual resources. However, I still felt pressure to do well and prove that all my parents’ sacrifices were worth it; to prove to all the people in Jersey that I could break the cycle and not become a college drop-out, maid, or teen mom like some of my old classmates back in Jersey. What made matters worse was the fact that the amount of Latinx faculty could be counted in one hand and that I was sometimes the only person of color in a class or the only Latina.
Before dropping me off, my parents had told me to behave and not screw this up because they were beyond proud of me. They told me to always look my best and act like I belong even when I felt that I didn’t. So, every morning, I made sure my makeup was on point, my outfit was basic and formal-ish, and that I didn’t seem too “hood.” I tried my best not to use slang at the Harkness table or to “give too much attitude.” Sometimes this was difficult to do because how can I not make a face when a teacher tries to say my name (which my parents purposefully chose to assimilate better in this country) in a more exaggerated way in order to make it sound more Hispanic? I knew that as the only Latina in most of my classes, I needed to be a good representation and didn’t want others to think that the only reason I got in was because of affirmative action.
Prep winter, I remember crying all morning before classes the day Trump got elected. My sister was a DREAMER at the time and I was scared that my family would get deported after hearing Trump’s anti-immigration and build the wall rhetoric. I was thankful that day more than ever that my roommate was an understanding person who didn’t think this way of immigrants. Yet, walking to class that day I saw a few red hats that said Make America Great Again and felt pissed. It didn’t help that after one of my classes, a student who I knew was a Trump supporter felt the need to ask me about my parents’ legal status because he noticed I was upset. It would’ve been fine if he had stopped there but he then asked me if I was also born in Mexico because of course – all Hispanic people are from Mexico. In his defense, he was not the first or last person to make an assumption of my ethnicity. Just last week, an Exeter town person turned to me as I was waiting for the train to Boston and told me to have a “Happy Cinco de Mayo!” in an accent that made me cringe. Even though I understand that she meant no harm, it was still an odd encounter.
On top of regular stress from academics, I wish that I didn’t have to deal with these things. I wish my friends and I didn’t have to be followed by a Sephora employee the moment we stepped into the store and that the employee didn’t accuse me of shoplifting and make me empty my pockets even though I had a bag full of things I just bought. I wish that I didn’t have to make sure that my hands were out of my pockets whenever I went downtown or felt the need to tip decently so that I wasn’t seen as too cheap. I also wish that a random old lady didn’t feel the need to touch my friend’s hair without asking. I know these comments and actions don’t seem like much, but their impact is more than the originated intent. And I know that I can’t speak for everyone, but this has been my experience here at Exeter. Even though I’m extremely thankful for all that Exeter has given me, there is a lot more that Exeter needs to do to improve. And this change can only be accomplished by first acknowledging that we all come from different backgrounds and understanding how being a marginalized group on campus can make someone’s Exeter experience different from someone else’s.