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- I'm a person of color who was just accepted into Princeton after the repeal of affirmative action.
- When applying, I made sure to prove I was a person, not just a grade.
- I'm happy I got in, but I can't stop thinking about the other POC who weren't so lucky.
The college admissions process is a game. Unlike other games, though, you don't necessarily have the chance to fail, to practice, to test-drive, or to get good; you just have to win. You just have to play the game that has been impending since you set foot in high school.
I played the game. As a recently accepted student to Princeton University, it might've been the best I ever played.
But I had to because I was in the first class to apply to college post-affirmative action. As a person of color, I was the guinea pig round of the increasingly unpredictable admissions process. I wondered what would merit admission, how I could talk about my experiences, and what the "holistic" application took into account.
Luckily, I gained admission to my dream school, but I can't help but think about the other disadvantaged peers who didn't.
I tried to show the admissions officers I'm a person — not a score
I went test-optional. I didn't want to be quantifiable. Even though I am number one in my class, have a high GPA, and took 21 AP courses throughout high school, removing the SAT put a larger weight on my essays.
I figured it would be harder to reject a person than a number, so I gave them a person. I spent my essays talking about ideas I was passionate about and went in depth about my activities and why I did them. The "why" was a large part of my application — from my involvement in local and national journalism to my work at a local farm.
I took any chance I had to write in the margins of the application, describing my circumstances, from the small notes about being in the first generation of my family to attend college in the US to how being a low-income student prevented me from acquiring specialized academic tools. The additional information section was my solace. I didn't pay for a single summer program, extracurricular, or club. Everything I did, I wanted to do — and a good measure of that is my hope to continue many of my high school activities in college.
Of course, I had always been doing these activities, but after the repeal of affirmative action, intentionally emphasizing them was one way I felt I could add dimension to myself. I wanted to show the admissions office that I was an actual person with actual interests beyond school.
But I have bittersweet feelings about getting into an Ivy League school
I'd be lying if I said the feeling after getting into Princeton was all sunshine and roses. I often think about other students like myself, who struggled to share their circumstances or lost a spot after affirmative action. Somehow, I survived the game when others didn't.
But the truth is I didn't have to beat out other poor kids, other POCs, or other minorities. I had to beat the majority. My competition was never the people from my background or tax bracket. I had to beat out the system that went against me, the larger injustice — even though some of my peers couldn't.
I remind myself I didn't steal anyone's spot, and the bittersweet feeling associated with getting in is actually a good thing. It means I still have my humanity in a world where "climbing the ladder" is the norm. But also, it means I survived; I didn't succumb. I played the game instead of taking the back door, which was offered to many affluent students and legacy applicants. For that, I am glad.
Ironically, this same feeling was verbalized best by playwright Finegan Kruckemeyer, whom I wrote about in my Princeton essay, when he says:
"This was a good thing, this was a bad. Of this, I feel guilty; of this, I feel glad…Some things I can change and some I can't fix. I'm alone, but as well, I'm part of a mix."
I do think I belong among the Ivy League mix, but like any good thing, I also feel like I have to answer for the flawed system.