Personal History Statement and Statement of Purpose

Illustration by Wanda Carreras

I am a Chicana who grew up in Long Beach. For the majority of my pre-teen years, my mother was distant with me because she lost herself to drugs. Her free-spirited demeanor resulted in little-to-no parental guidance. My father was sentenced to prison for approximately ten years, so I did not get to meet him until I was twelve years old. Having no bonds with my parents left me to provide an acknowledgement of my emotional influx and development through writing. Even if I was a complete amateur at writing poetry, I developed a bond with this style of writing. It became an outlet where I could combine my love for drawing and writing, and express my anger. Although the abandonment has made a presence in my adulthood, showing detrimental effects to my headspace, I can reflect on my memories of coping through poetry. It resulted in resilience.

My mother’s behavior and actions escalated when we moved into a house with strange roommates. My mother tried convincing me my aunt, who actually served as my only emotional support system, was an evil person. I had to rely on my cousin to bring me food or cook for me. There was a consistency to my mother’s absence and it worsened to a point where I would not see her for weeks. She would leave, and I would have no idea of her whereabouts. There were instances when I had to take the bus late to school or ask my aunt for a ride because my mother would forget to take me. 

In this year, my mother allowed a woman to live in my room. She was manipulative and would degrade me in a passive aggressive tone. When I would get to see my aunt on the weekends, I would tell her about my living situation. Then we were evicted from our house. Nobody had a plan, and I was still finishing my freshman year of high school. I left home and lived in my aunt’s storage room for the rest of my high school years. Since moving out, I have no idea of my parents’ whereabouts. 

I have not had any support from them since early high school, and had minimal financial support from my unemployed aunt who was recently divorced. She mainly supported me emotionally. Her divorce led us to move into a studio, where I slept on the couch and had to wake up at five in the morning to take two buses to and from my high school. Once I got home after five in the evening because I was doing extracurricular activities after school, I would do homework and study. That was what my days looked like, due to taking advanced placement classes. I started independently working and doing volunteering around Long Beach. Moving away from my mother motivated me to do exceptionally well in my senior year of high school. I took this drive with me through my university career. I focused my energy in studying, reading, and producing poems every other week. With all this said, I did not have many friends, nor did I explore my teenage world enough. 

I was unhappy for most of my journey and found that trauma is not the main source of poetry, but it triggers motivation to explore the romantic and realistic sides of how I perceive life. I would not take any of these experiences away, if I had the choice. To be frank, my mother’s unfortunate downfall and absence molded me into a poet with eccentric style and perspective. I would not be a confessional, experimental poet without discovering my rawness and embracing heavy snapshots of my life. In addition to that thought, I was able to see the beauty in the metamorphic shifts in my style of poetry. My poetry is like grandma's confessional kitchen table: it's filled with trinkets, motifs of life, smells of death, and couldn't be done in a more loving manner. I flood my poetry with odd imagery and emotion. 

Practicing my independence, it became an engraved characteristic that would apply to my studies in English, Creative Writing, participation in readings, self-published works, and proactivity in my art community. Once I pursued my studies in English, Creative Writing, I was put into an environment that was intoxicating and refreshing. I was surrounded by folks like me that were eclectic, honest, and awkward. It inspired me to take more time to live the life of a poet, so I produce more poetry in late afternoons and at the dead of night. There were nights where I did not sleep and instead wrote. I live for this lifestyle and spent most of my undergraduate English, Creative Writing years building my reputation as a poet. I befriended many wonderful poet colleagues at CSU, Long Beach, a handful of the Creative Writing Department faculty members, and other humble writers that attended Long Beach open mics from those hosted by The Library Coffeehouse to those at spontaneous house parties. I never had a specific aesthetic, in terms of where I read or who I interacted with. I just knew I have to be more open to any opportunities that were presented to me.