Barrett Admissions Essay Anonymous

In a drab little apartment- streaked gray by pollution- nestled in the dusty streets of Bogota, Colombia, my mother once asked me at the age of three years old what I wanted to be when I grew up. Surrounded by a patriarchal and heavily misogynistic society, my younger self replied, “I want to be a mom.” In less than a year, I stood at what seemed like the edge of my world-a grim, metallic sign that read, “Departures” in Spanish. Behind me, the entire collective of what I knew as truth, my dreams, and what I thought would be my future, remained in the small group of people waving my mother and me a solemn goodbye. With my small hand grasping my mother’s tightly, I took a step and plunged off of the edge of my world.

Reunited with my father in our new home in Colorado, the world finally seemed to gain color in my eyes. My memories of those first months in Denver consist of holding my father’s hand while I skipped alongside him on his way to the lab at CSM. In one special photo album currently resting on my shelf, there’s a picture of my father conducting an experiment in the laboratory; in the corner, almost jumping off of the chair in excitement and curiosity, is me. In those precious moments, I was introduced, through the...