The purpose of this column is to support you. First-Gen Life will offer tips, stories and guidance to help first generation students not just survive, but thrive here at the University of California, Riverside (UCR).
Everyone talks about how hard it is to be first-gen, but no one really talks about what it feels like when something actually goes right. For some, joy is a weekend brunch or a spontaneous trip. For me, it’s my dad calling to say he told his clients from work, “My daughter goes to UCR.” It’s the quiet smile my siblings give me when they see me finishing an assignment at the kitchen table after a long day. Our version of joy doesn’t always look like the college brochures, it’s quieter, scrappier and made from small victories that keep us going.
College teaches us that happiness comes from big moments, such as internships, Dean’s List emails or gleaming LinkedIn posts. However, joy for students like us lives in smaller spaces. Joy shows up when we figure out how to navigate a system no one in our family has seen before. It’s finishing a FAFSA form without crying or hearing our parents say they are proud of us even if they don’t understand our major. Our joy might not be picture-perfect, but it feels real.
I used to think I had to hide how different my experiences were. The group study sessions, the campus events, even the way classmates talked about “going home for the weekend.” It all sounded as if it was another language. Over time, I realized my happiness did not need to match anyone else’s. It just needed to make sense to me.
Joy comes when the refund check clears, when a professor calls your name from memory or when your younger sibling texts asking for advice about college because suddenly you are the role model. These moments are not glamorous, but they carry an immense weight. Each one whispers, you’re doing it.
Sometimes the wins are even smaller – getting through a week without skipping meals, turning in an essay you actually had time to proofread, saying no to an extra shift because you are choosing rest over exhaustion. These are the milestones we celebrate quietly, the ones that remind us we’re still standing.
Of course, the pride we feel comes with pressure. Our families see us as proof that their sacrifices mattered. That love can translate into expectations so high they touch the clouds. But I’ve started to see that pressure differently. It isn’t just weight, it is a shared energy. Every time I succeed, my family succeeds too. Their pride is not something to escape, it is something to honor.
