Foster Care Holiday

As the holidays near, most students at LMU will begin thinking about the joy or burden that comes with returning home. But for students like me, it represents an
extreme vulnerability and stirs up emotions of fear, dread, loneliness, and abandonment. Over the summer, for the first time in my life, I was truly homeless.

I had managed to scrape together enough money and good enough grades to be accepted to a summer study abroad program. This meant I would only be around Los
Angeles for a month or so for any job, so no one would hire me. While some amazing people let me stay in a guest room or on their couch, I felt guilty taking their
help. Growing up, I was taught to take care of myself. I kept thinking it wasn’t bad, that I was just having prolonged sleepovers at my friend’s houses, some sort of
couch surfing vacation.

It was a terrible feeling, begging my friends for places to stay, even going so far as to sleep in my car a few nights just to not be a burden on them. I don’t have a
family to depend on; I grew up in foster care. My adoptive mother died of cancer when I was 14 and my family disowned me. My biological mother was a drug
addict while my biological father is facing over 300 years in prison for interstate drug trafficking, murder, and other crimes related to being a member of the Belizean
Bloods.

According to Casey Family Programs, roughly 70 percent of children in foster care wish to obtain a higher education degree, yet only 7-13 percent will enroll and less
than 2 percent will actually graduate with a degree. Along with those numbers, LMU’s Financial Aid Office states there are less than 10 students identified as former
foster youth enrolled on campus.

Beating those odds, I attended Oxford University during the past summer, where I was able to relax and focus on my studies because I knew where I was sleeping
every night and would return to LMU when the program ended. But after I ran through my savings and had to take out loans to make ends meet, it became very clear
that my life was in shambles.

When I returned to LMU, I started fretting more and more until I was paralyzed with fear and depression over my future. While many students are worried about
what they will do to pass the time over the holidays, I have been panicking and trying to set up a good job for the month we have winter break. I’ve sat and listened to
peers complain about how annoying it is that their family is sending them to an all-expense-paid vacation yet again, or that they can’t stand their parents wanting them
home for the holidays, and I bite my tongue each time. It’s not their fault; they don’t know how I long for a family to belong to, that I am struggling to make sure I
have enough money to pay my bills each month, how their worst inconvenience would be a blessing to me.

I feel guilty and angry at myself for being jealous of my peers. There are so many other people who are worse off than me. Who am I to complain? So what if I have
to decide between paying for my car insurance or my cell phone? Both of these are luxuries If I don’t find a source of income over winter break, I will start having to
consider selling my car, my safety net, that I saved up for years to buy. If I do not find a way to make a living and place to stay over the summer – I don’t want to
think about what could happen.

Worse yet, the day I graduate will be the day I return to the real world. If I don’t have a job already set up, I am going to truly be homeless. I will not be able to
begrudgingly call my parents and ask to move back home or beg them to help with rent. If I mismanage my finances, I cannot call and ask someone to give me more
money to cover expenses. Being dangled by these realities over the edge of a figurative cliff overwhelms and paralyzes me.

When it comes to  A recent New York Times article noted that the average college student is graduating with about $26,500 in debt; consider that with respect to
paying to the LMU-estimated tuition of roughly $56,000 per year. A problem arises when these loans require a cosigner, which most foster youth do not have.
Moreover, during the span of four years, a foster youth is expected to take out a minimum of $44,000 in loans at the less costly University of California system.

We are a University whose foundational values are grounded in taking care of the least among us, to be men and women for and with others. I have been blessed by
friends and a community that have been there for me in the past, and I am grateful for what they have done and continue to do for me. But what about the other
students on this campus in similar circumstances, with nowhere to turn? What, if anything, are we doing to normalize their lives and take away the fear of the future
and instead replace it with the confidence that comes from being a Lion for life?

Last January, when I asked a student housing office employee if there are special guidelines for foster youth at LMU, their answer was, “No, but it does break our
heart when we hear they have been living in their cars.” Granted, this was just one person’s response – but that is unacceptable. We need year-round hosing for these
students, increased financial support and a removal of the stigmatization associated with having survived abuse and neglect. To build a better future, we need more
support programs that recognize and honor what these students have gone through while ensuring they have a solid future once they graduate.

This is the opinion of Anthony Pico, a junior philosophy major from San Francisco, Calif. Please send comments to jdemes@theloyolan.com.
This article first appeared in the Los Angeles Loyolan, the student-run newspaper at Loyola Marymount University. Reprinted with permission.