This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Thalles de Souza. It has been edited for length and clarity.
In March 2016, on a Sunday morning, police entered my house, shouting and shooting. At only 13, I woke up screaming, not sure of what was happening. When I walked into the kitchen, I was nearly shot. Turns out, the police were looking for a family member of ours.
Shootings were common where I lived in Vila Kennedy, a community in Bangu, in Rio de Janeiro. I witnessed so many deaths — countless deaths.
I lived there with my mom, a single mom, and my three older siblings. My mom had always done what she could to protect us, given what she experienced as a child. After her parents died when she was 10, she became homeless. By 19, she had four children. She did what she could to keep us safe, but she couldn’t hide what we saw in our community when we walked out the front door.
My mom decided to move us to the US
There were a lot of gangs and so much corruption. Every day, people were killed. It was a normal occurrence to be playing soccer with my friends, right next to dead bodies lying in the street. I learned to navigate life in these spaces surrounded by danger, but it was normal — it was my reality.
On that Sunday in March 2016, my mom decided she had to get out to keep her children safe.
She had quietly been saving small amounts of money, taking out loans, and applying for our visas so that we could travel to the US. She kept it quiet to make sure no one got in the way of her plan.
Three months after the shooting in our house, we moved to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, and we never left. It became our home, our new community.
I went to community college to save money
After graduating from high school, I attended our local community college to save money and decide what college I would transfer to later.
In community college, I worked hard. I had perfect grades, became a member of the Massachusetts Board of Higher Education, participated in clubs, served as student body president for two years, and served the community I lived in, wanting to give back to the people who had welcomed my family.
Last year, I started looking for which college I was going to transfer to. I knew Yale had produced some of the best lawyers and judges — what I hoped to become — so I went for a visit.
I applied to Yale, thinking I wouldn’t get in
When I got out of my car, I said to myself that this place wasn’t the kind of place that would accept someone like me. But I applied anyway. I knew there was only a 1.3% acceptance rate, but I had to try.
When I saw I had an email from the admissions office, I called my mom and older sister into the room with me to find out the result.
I got in. I got into Yale, one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Not just that — I had a 100% full-ride scholarship.
I still can’t believe it, even though I’m starting in September.
Where I came from didn’t determine where I could go. I might have started as just another unlikely statistic in society’s eyes, but that isn’t what I’ll become.
On a visit to the campus a few weeks ago, my mom looked at me and said how amazing all of this was. She’s so happy. She tells everyone. She sacrificed her entire life to get her children safe. And the result was far better than she could have imagined.
I’m so glad I’ve been able to give her the gift of knowing her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing — it was all worth it.
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