There was no hand­book for chang­ing dia­pers and fix­ing for­mu­las at age 7, much less how to be a suit­able role mod­el for two younger sis­ters. Yet for Abril Col­in, a fresh­man at Cal­i­for­nia State Uni­ver­si­ty San Mar­cos, these ear­ly expe­ri­ences as a care­tak­er became the foun­da­tion for her call­ing to become a pedi­atric nurse.

Grow­ing up in Escon­di­do as the old­est sib­ling of her Mex­i­can immi­grant fam­i­ly, Abril learned from an ear­ly age what it meant to step into roles beyond her years. While her peers were focused on play­dates, she was the one her sis­ters turned to when they need­ed atten­tion. “I saw my sis­ters grow into the kind girls they are today,” Abril reflects.

Abril’s jour­ney has­n’t been with­out its strug­gles. Grow­ing up in a Lati­no fam­i­ly meant nav­i­gat­ing cul­tur­al atti­tudes toward men­tal health that often pri­or­i­tized silence over expres­sion. Phras­es like “Ponte Fuerte” (Be strong) and “Deja de llo­rar por eso” (Stop cry­ing) were often heard. “Grow­ing up in a Lati­no fam­i­ly means you have to learn to repress your emo­tions,” Abril explains.

As far back as sixth grade, she remem­bers feel­ing her iden­ti­ty emerge. Over time, she real­ized she was bisexual—a truth she holds in a fam­i­ly that does­n’t ful­ly under­stand. While her par­ents don’t ask about PRIDE events or embrace her iden­ti­ty open­ly, Abril has noticed sub­tle changes. They’ve got­ten “a lit­tle bet­ter,” accept­ing qui­et­ly even if not loud­ly. In a cul­ture where tra­di­tion­al mar­riage and chil­dren are expect­ed, this qui­et accep­tance means some­thing.

Nation­al Rain­bow Col­lege Fund (NRCF) opened doors that Abril did­n’t know exist­ed. The path to col­lege was daunting—figuring out appli­ca­tions, under­stand­ing finan­cial aid, and nav­i­gat­ing a sys­tem her par­ents could­n’t help with as first-gen­er­a­tion immi­grants. NRCF rep­re­sent­ed more than just finan­cial assis­tance. It was val­i­da­tion that some­one saw her, under­stood her inter­sect­ing iden­ti­ties and believed in her dreams.

“Nation­al Rain­bow Col­lege Fund enabled me to go to school,” Abril says. “With­out it, I might have had to go to com­mu­ni­ty col­lege or not have been able to pur­sue my dream of being a pedi­atric nurse and return­ing to my com­mu­ni­ty to help oth­er fam­i­lies who are strug­gling.“
The schol­ar­ship cov­ers essen­tials like tuition, books and food. More impor­tant­ly, it lift­ed a weight from her fam­i­ly’s shoul­ders. “It takes away the stress of hav­ing to add to my par­ents’ load. They are already car­ry­ing so much.”

A Future Rooted in Community

Now pur­su­ing her degree in nurs­ing, Abril is dri­ven by mem­o­ries of the doc­tor who helped her par­ents under­stand and access med­ical knowl­edge cru­cial for their fam­i­ly. She thinks of her lit­tle cousin, born with so many health chal­lenges, and all the fam­i­lies in her com­mu­ni­ty who strug­gle with a frag­ment­ed health­care sys­tem.

Her dream is clear: to return to her com­mu­ni­ty as a pedi­atric nurse, to be for oth­er chil­dren what she was for her sis­ters, and to be for oth­er fam­i­lies what that com­pas­sion­ate doc­tor was for her.

It ties right into her cur­rent role on Nation­al Rain­bow Col­lege Fund’s Stu­dent Advi­so­ry Coun­cil where she reflects on the jour­ney she’s trav­eled: “I want to give back and be the voice for oth­ers who are feel­ing alone.”

From the sev­en-year-old chang­ing dia­pers to the young woman nav­i­gat­ing her bisex­u­al iden­ti­ty in a tra­di­tion­al fam­i­ly, Abril Col­in embod­ies resilience. And when she adds one more title to her name – nurse – count­less chil­dren and fam­i­lies will one day ben­e­fit from her com­pas­sion­ate care.

Nation­al Rain­bow Col­lege Fund pro­vides schol­ar­ships to LGBTQ+ stu­dents pur­su­ing high­er edu­ca­tion in Cal­i­for­nia. To learn more about the schol­ar­ship pro­gram or to sup­port stu­dents like Abril, vis­it RainbowCollegeFund.org.