Zócalo celebrated its 20th birthday recently! As part of the festivities, we’re publishing reflections and responses that revisit and reimagine some of our most impactful stories and public programs. Watts resident and student Shanice Joseph revisits her own essay “Does My Neighborhood Want Me to Get Pregnant?” and pens an update on her journey—and struggle—to get her college degree.

Over a decade has passed since I published my first-ever viral essay.

I was struggling to make ends meet while pursuing my journalism degree at Long Beach City College when a friend said something that sounded crazy: have a baby.

The more I thought about what she said—about how the government would assist me (and this theoretical child) not just with my education, but also with subsidized housing, food, and other necessary resources—the more I started to question why the system was set up to support single mothers but not low-income college students.

I was 22 years old, living at home with my very supportive grandmother; my only income was the $5,000 Pell Grant I received annually. I traveled two hours on the bus to get to school and then two hours back because I didn’t have a car. I struggled (if I could put that in red writing, I would). But what kept me going—and helped inspire me to write that essay—was that I wasn’t alone in what I lacked.

Society feeds young adults the message that we should have our lives together in our 20s. But I could not name 10 young adults in my friend group or my beloved community of Watts who had gotten their college degrees by 22.

Ten years ago, I asked: Shouldn’t students from neighborhoods like mine have access to necessary resources to help us succeed in higher education?

Today, I am still asking that question.

Soon after the story published in 2014, I lost my Pell Grant and could no longer afford to attend college full-time. So I made the only decision I could: I temporarily switched my focus to finding work.

This, I told myself, would allow me to finance my education, support my family, and start to save for a dream that had started to take shape when I wrote that article: to open my own higher education resource center in Watts. I knew I wanted to be part of the change in my neighborhood and make it easier for future college students to succeed.

By 2016, I was exhausted, but still trying to do it all: working full time at LAX cleaning planes on the graveyard shift and taking classes during the day. My resource center was still at the front of my mind, and that year I even located a venue in Watts that agreed to house it. But I could not afford to launch it; I was working so many hours that I could not concentrate on my own schoolwork, let alone assist others.

Finally, I made the hard decision to stop taking classes, table the idea of a resource center, and focus on work—for now.

In 2018, I got a full-time job with the City of Los Angeles at a 24-hour call center that came with a good salary and paid benefits, including school tuition assistance. I was 28 years old and so happy; I felt more equipped to excel in school than ever. But this job came with new hurdles. I could not enroll in school until I’d completed an 18-month training and probation process. I told myself this was just one last temporary setback, and I tried to make the most out of my hard-fought financial stability—the new salary allowed me to move out of my grandma’s house to a nice apartment, and even travel and see some of the world. But the job itself was not something that felt rewarding. My commute took hours (one month, I did the math and realized I had spent over 50 hours in traffic). The schedule was constantly changing, too—10 times in an 18-month span.

Then, my grandmother got sick. She spent most of 2019 in the hospital, and by early 2020, she was gone.

That was my lowest point.

Losing my grandmother, my biggest champion, was impossible. What made it even worse was that after her death, I didn’t feel like I could really grieve my loss. All those years in survival mode did not equip me to take care of my own mental health when faced with mourning someone I’d loved my whole life.

I knew that my grandmother would not have wanted this level of unhappiness for me. Eventually, I started going to therapy, which assisted with improving my mental health and provided me with insight into ways I can be more focused, disciplined, and consistent, regardless of the circumstances.

Months after my grandmother’s death, with my probation period finally over, I could officially resume my studies—this time, in her memory. I started school remotely amid the pandemic, with a newfound interest in working in the mental health field.

The idea of trying out a new career path, now in my 30s, scares me, but I know that I owe it to myself to try. After all of this struggle, I want a career that pays well, that serves others, and that I will enjoy.

This fall, I enrolled in the last three classes I need to transfer to a university. I have big plans for the degree I’m working toward.

In the last decade, I’ve been asked time and again to pick between my educational dreams and my survival needs. But I have never given up on my goals, despite the obstacles in my path. Instead, I’ve continued to find ways to fulfill the ambitions I have set for myself.

Looking back, I am so proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish. I’ve continued writing and publishing articles. I’ve played a role in raising my younger siblings. I’ve helped out in Watts by delivering food for seniors, painting houses, and hosting several community empowerment events, which I view as practice for the resource center that I still plan to open one day.

I wish that I and so many others weren’t put in the position I’ve so often found myself in, making choices that feel more like hitting limits. But despite the lack of support and resources out there, I refuse to see the pursuit of higher education as an impossible task.

My grandmother used to tell me each morning, “You can do anything that you put your mind to.” I still take that affirmation with me, knowing that ultimately, regardless of the circumstances, I will prosper.