I grew up on the north side of Minneapolis, in a mostly Black neighborhood. Although I was exposed to gun violence and street fights, my community also had a strong sense of connection. Neighbors knew and looked out for one another. We even had a community garden where people planted flowers and vegetables together. In the spring and summer, the flowers bloomed beautifully and made the neighborhood feel warm and alive.
From fourth through eighth grade, I attended Ascension Catholic School, a small private Catholic school that cost my family $100 a month. My classmates were Latino, Asian, Chinese and Black, and there were no white students. Even though the school was small, we received a strong education. During that time, schools like DeLaSalle and Benilde-St. Margaret’s were considered some of the best high schools in Minneapolis. My mother constantly reminded me how important attending one of those schools could be for my future.
I wanted to attend DeLaSalle because of its diversity and academics, but getting in required passing a difficult entrance exam. The first time I took it, I failed and felt devastated. Instead, I enrolled at Armstrong High School after my family moved from north Minneapolis to Robbinsdale so I could attend a better school district. We lived in a small apartment in a quiet, diverse neighborhood with white, Indian and Asian families.
Armstrong was a culture shock for me because I had only attended private schools. During my freshman year, I witnessed pregnant students, gang activity and drugs being sold at school. At one point, girls wanted to fight my friends and me because of drama connected to people we knew. That experience taught me how strongly environment can shape a person. I begged my mom to help me transfer schools and became determined to get into DeLaSalle. I worked hard, maintained a 4.0 GPA throughout freshman year, and retook the entrance exam. This time, I passed.
Attending DeLaSalle changed my life. The school was diverse, students wore uniforms, and everyone focused on academics. There were fewer distractions, and academic success was celebrated. The most respected students were the ones with the highest GPAs, unlike at Armstrong, where popularity was often tied to clothes, shoes and social status. Wearing my uniform gave me confidence and made me feel like I belonged.
Around the same time, my family moved to southeast downtown Minneapolis, a peaceful neighborhood with a river bridge, dog park, and colorful Italian ice trucks in the summer. Going to DeLaSalle also brought a sense of respect. Many students came from wealthy families, while most students of color attended through scholarships, including me. My family still made major sacrifices to keep me there. Looking back, I realize how much the environments I’d lived in had shaped me. Every neighborhood and school taught me lessons about community, resilience and the importance of education.
This essay is one in a series of Columbia College students’ reflections on how class and race put a mark on where they grew up. They answered these questions: What should people know about the place where I grew up in? What are the stories I tell about my life there?