Take 2, PS Critique Please! EDIT: New Intro, help me shorten! Forum

[Omeed93]

I play paintball and after ten years of dedication, I became the second youngest professional player and the first Middle Eastern one. I started to have a following, and then my fans tossed around the nickname ‘bomber’ in ways I did not appreciate. But this was ten years after 9/11, and the perception of the Middle East had much earlier spiraled out of control. I had already developed a strategy to move past my gut reactions to racism, or else comments like ‘bomber’ would have piled up. Instead, I found relief in looking at racial difference as something to explore, engage, and celebrate. Conveniently, I grew up in a Latino pocket of a white suburb, so even though it was not my own race, my starting point was clear. My ‘activism’ at a young age included crossing the streets that separated the communities and getting haircuts at local Latino barbershops. It was silly, but I did get an early start on my Spanish.

I became conversational after finishing my high school’s set of classes, so at my university, I decided a Spanish minor would help me work towards fluency. A particularly worldly Spanish professor was known on campus for asking each member of her classes to engage in the Latino community in whatever way they see fit. I saw a chance to turn my early rudimentary activism into real activism. A few days into the semester, she gave us a list of suggested organizations, and I found one that was especially appealing. I wanted to join members of this organization in their fight for detained asylum seekers. The experienced activists worked in different places, like lobbying at the xxxx capital, but for college students, they offered a visitation program at a detention center. Since these asylum seekers entered without papers, it did not matter what or who they were running from because under the law, they were foremost treated as illegal immigrants.

A group of friends and I received training, signed up for our first visit, and drove thirty minutes before arriving at the front door of the detention center. If you gave the place a single glance from the highway nearby, you would think for certain it was a prison. I was a nervous wreck in the lobby as we waited for the guards to let us in, knowing that in just a few minutes I would be speaking a foreign language to a group of women I had never met and who were probably not all that excited to chat. We were let into the visitation room, and after an hour of conversation, I had completed my first visit. I repeated this process over and over almost every weekend for the next year and conversed with women from nearly every country in Latin America. I wish I could get into details because each woman’s story opened my eyes to a variety of injustices, but I must respect their requests for privacy.
When I visited the women, I could improve their situations in the smallest ways. For one, the only thing I got to bring inside the visitation room was a Ziploc full of quarters, which I would use to buy them snacks from the vending machine. I usually used a Coca-Cola and some Cheetos as a peace offering with surprisingly good results when the women were initially not willing to chat. Aside from that, I just tried to be a friend. I would hug them when I arrived and allow them to steer the conversation wherever they pleased. Some told me I reminded them of their sons, and others told me they had not laughed since leaving their country. Having been a server and bartender during all four years of college, I had gotten used to handling these types of conversations in English, so to do it in Spanish was a new challenge, but nothing I could not handle. Smiling, joking, and listening, I tried to provide these women the smallest sense of normalcy. But every time I left the detention center, got into my car, and drove out of the parking lot, I felt like I had made no real difference in their lives. I wanted to do more.

I contacted some of the more experienced activists and asked for ways to get involved. They told me I could help lobby or do small protests to change the laws regarding family detention, or I could help recruit lawyers for pro bono work. I did not understand exactly what a lawyer could do for these women, but when I did, it provided the confirmation I had been looking for in my decision to pursue a law degree. One particular activist began by explaining that the detained women all had to present their case for asylum to immigration judges who would decide if they got to stay. He described these interactions to me as very one-sided, especially when the women represented themselves. I started asking the women about this situation, and it unfortunately seemed to check out. The women worried about not having any papers at all, or they knew that their papers were wrong. And, every time they messed up a step, the process got delayed and they stayed detained for even longer. Some of these women would end up being detained for a full year just to be denied in their request for asylum and immediately deported. I listened to the women speak and thought they all deserved asylum, but I realized that it meant nothing if I understood their stories. The only thing that mattered was if they could present their stories clearly to those that heard their cases. This would require a lawyer, and with no money to hire one, the pro bono lawyers were the only option.

I did end up helping to recruit some lawyers for the activists, but outside of that, I acted like an advocate however I could. I would tell my close friends about what I was learning and described to them how much of it just felt wrong. When I told my mom the story about these women, she laughed and asked how I thought she was able to get her own citizenship. Apparently, a young lawyer in D.C. helped my parents through the citizenship process, and no wonder I felt so connected to the asylum seekers. They saw their sons in me, and now I saw my mom in those women. If they cannot get their asylum, they do not get to provide their sons with everything that my parents provided me. I saw how much lawyers could do for the women I work with and since all of this was happening within fifteen miles of my school, I am left only to imagine the limits of what else can be done. I want to study law in order to explore those limits in today’s society, and to one day return to those ladies and offer them the advocacy that they actually need. Yesterday I was a friend, tomorrow I need to do more.

[CanadianWolf]

Much better than your first effort. Sincere, interesting & presented in a clear & logical fashion. Strong ending. A bit too wordy, but that is a minor concern.

First line: "...could help me improve my fluency...". You are not fluent; you're at a conversational level. Try: "...could help me work toward fluency...".

[Omeed93]

Thanks, yah I drafted the first version without reading examples and getting a good feel for the guidelines. It's starting to make a bit more sense.