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Belonging and Longing
The Doors My Mother
Opened for Me
My
childhood ended the day
my mother stepped off a
plane from Colombia with
$200, two small children,
and two large blue
suitcases. With strength
and resolve, she had
packed up our lives and
headed for a small Texas
town she’d heard of only
in passing.
I
can understand only now
what courage it took to
change our world so
radically, against what
most of my family
advised. But it was not
the first time my mother
had crossed family and
social conventions.
Despite never finishing
high school, she worked
against her father’s
wishes to pay for her
four younger sisters’
education. Instead of
marrying at a young age,
as most girls did, she
headed to Europe with
little more than one-way
ship fare and the
secondhand English she
had picked up from a
tutor. When her
relationship with my
father ended, she left
him to raise us on her
own.
Back then, I had no
words—English or Spanish—for
the wrenching I felt in
my heart and stomach as
our plane rolled down
the runway in Colombia
headed to Texas. At
school, only one
classmate spoke Spanish,
and my brother and I
were held back a grade
for not speaking English.
In spite of the hurdles,
my mother was right
about the country she
had chosen for her
children. In the United
States, the relationship
between how hard you
work and what you can
accomplish is clearer
and more direct than in
other parts of the world.
Months later, I spoke
English with confidence.
Years later, at the age
of 16, I became the
first one in my family
to attend college and
the first in my school
to be named a National
Merit Scholar.
My
mother’s gutsy move
opened doors I couldn’t
have imagined in
Colombia. But it was up
to me to find a way to
give back. That sense of
purpose steered me to
journalism, where I was
able to spotlight
important issues and
give a voice to those
who traditionally have
not been in the pages of
a newspaper.
At
my university, I led
coverage of a student
government decision to
cut off funding for the
Gay and Lesbian Student
Association—stories
which drew statewide
attention and resulted
in the group’s
reinstatement. At The
News Tribune, I used
what my editor called
“polite but deadly
persistence” to persuade
a tight-lipped Tacoma
police chief to disclose
that an officer had been
accused of hitting a
female prisoner. Taking
care to protect a
whistle-blower, I poured
through boxes of
documents and
interviewed dozens of
sources to produce an
investigative package on
a public housing project.
The stories prompted the
housing board to reverse
its decision to demolish
the apartments, which
would have displaced
hundreds of poor,
disabled, and minority
residents. |
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Rosario Daza with the
Hon. Ricardo S. Martinez,
Judge of the Western
district in Washington |
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At
The Oregonian, a
photographer and I
accompanied a medical
team as it canoed deep
into the Moskitian
jungle of Honduras and
Nicaragua, in search of
the indigenous hurricane
victims missed by
traditional relief
efforts. I also learned
the story of Jhon Jairo,
an Afro-Colombian man
who survived 14 days in
a cramped rudder
compartment, only to be
deported after his
asylum claim was denied.
Stories like Jhon
Jairo’s fueled my
growing fascination with
the power and complexity
of the law. I no longer
felt satisfied standing
on the sidelines, a
tourist through other
people’s tragedies.
I realized I must be
more engaged.
Now at the University of
Washington School of Law,
I am thrilled to tackle
projects that would have
been off-limits to me as
a journalist who must
maintain distance and
objectivity. Instead of
writing about the issue,
I helped an abused woman
secure residency under
the Violence Against
Women Act. I recruited
speakers for the 2006
National Latina/o Law
Student Association
Conference, whom I hope
inspired hundreds of
minority students to
find their place in the
law. Like others whom I
admire, I want to be an
agent of change in the
Northwest’s minority
communities, and to
participate in pro bono
work on behalf of
immigrants and other
disadvantaged people.
I
believe my experience as
a journalist makes me
well-suited for the law—a
quick study able to
parachute into
unfamiliar areas and
engage experts and lay
people alike. But it is
my mother’s courage that
keeps me on this path.
The painful process of
integrating two worlds
has sparked my interest
in multi-faceted legal
fields such as
immigration law and
federal Indian law.
Because of this journey,
I am drawn to the
struggles of those who
live on the margins of
society, the outsiders
who grapple with the
question of what and
where is home.
A native of Colombia and
journalist, Rosario Daza
will receive her Juris
Doctorate in 2008 from
the University of
Washington School of Law
in Seattle.
By Rosario Daza |
