But mentors, peers and even literature professors warned me that an English degree held much less weight than a pre-professional degree. An accomplished writer once warned me that if I were to become a writer, I would have to work another job to make a living, without any guarantee of success. And if I were to be an academic, success would come very slowly, if at all. Contemplating these facts I asked myself, “When it comes to literature, do I love it enough to go broke for it?”

The answer was yes, for myself alone. Though I can easily measure my wealth in the scholarship of literature, I will not ask my family to do the same. I am a first-generation college student. My mother raised my two sisters and me by herself. For much of my life we lived on government assistance and help from family friends, shuffling from one small apartment to the next. The relentless cycle of poverty and violence left me mentally crippled and emotionally exhausted. College was my way out.

I often recall the day my mother dropped me off at college. Before saying her goodbyes, she cried in my arms. In between her sobs she sputtered, “You will have such a good life, now.”

I knew what this truly meant: “We will have a good life, now.”

Columbia University is not as much a place of self-exploration as it is a medium for societal ascension. My degree may create a foundation for generational wealth, and perhaps provide some mitigation of the racial and economic chasm between many of my rich white classmates and myself.

After much deliberation, I decided to major in human rights — a political science degree. My fascination with legal rights and inequality made it seem less of a compromise. Perhaps it will lead to work at the State Department or the United Nations, or maybe a spot at Harvard Law School.

In many ways, studying international legal issues has helped me become a better reader. I’ve often had to find meaning in writing that is free of passion and decipher jargon through the lens of my evolving sense of justice and injustice.

Still, with only a year left in my university career, I find myself anxious, as many students do, about where I will fit into society after graduation. I hope I will not always have to compromise passion for survival. I wonder if there remains room in this world for someone like me — a reader reflecting upon herself and society. I sincerely hope so.