I am a nervous, controlling planner. I have carefully planned –– and adapted to change –– every footstep to achieve the life I wanted at the time. I enjoy planning, and I enjoy certainty. 

Reading Robert Burns’ “To a Mouse,” where a man accidentally destroys a tiny mouse’s house, in a British literature class made me contemplate how planning is easier when one is a member of a privileged group. 

One of the greatest eye-opening experiences I have had was to come to the United States. In Brazil, I am a white upper-middle-class girl who could choose to do anything. 

I was going to law school,  like my grandparents did; I wanted to be a judge or diplomat. I never saw any barrier other than studying and making connections to reach my goals. 

My perspective changed when I came to the U.S. in the fall of 2022 to complete my senior year as an exchange student in a small town. 

Firstly, American understanding of race differs from that of Latin America. Suddenly, I was a Latina as any other Latin foreign woman was, and I would hear, “I can tell you’re not actually white by the color of your skin. Yes, it is clearer than mine, but something seems off.” 

If odd commentary and change of labels were my only problems as a foreigner, I would be fine. However, people not born at a disadvantage may take longer to understand when they are considered inferior because we are not looking for or expecting it. 

The truth is my dream and my plan, which now consisted of studying English and becoming a technical writer, were in the hands of those kind enough not to plow my mouse house and the luck a storm would not destroy it. 

To get a job after graduation, an international student needs to receive a visa sponsorship, which costs companies thousands of dollars, and which is why most throw away an international person’s resume without even reading it. 

It does not matter if they have been serving this country and their university with all their taxes, love, and effort. 

For example, I have been Freshman Forum’s Student Welfare Committee Chair, Flor-Ala’s Sports Editor, prior Staff Writer, Lights and Shadows Editor, Tacenda Magazine intern, and an HRL R.A., alongside a 3.9 GPA, constant 18 credit hours, and efforts to show every professor and advisor my worth,

That is all thrown away when the extra amount a company needs to pay to have me enters the scene. 

So, from the man who accidentally plows a mouse’s house, I became the mouse itself. Even though both have exterior happenings to worry about — industry overflow, qualifications, or location problems — only one has to fear the other.

I must keep my motivation up, even knowing it may have all been to no avail; otherwise, my failure will be due to my own actions. 

But every time I see a “no visa sponsorship” tag on a job opportunity or LinkedIn post where an immigrant talks about the hardships of job searching, I lose some hope. 

Luckily, I have my boyfriend Mason to help me keep moving. He does not understand much about the process and innocently says he will get a bank loan to pay for my sponsorship; that is not nearly how it works, but his naiveness only makes me love him even more for turning what is complicated into simple –– at least for a second. 

I also have faith in God, and I trust my potential. I know it is possible to keep my mouse house up with His help and my architectural abilities. 

I know my worth. I only need the right someone to grant me a work visa sponsorship instead of diminishing me to unwanted extra spending and plowing my house.