Sidenote: This story and its characters are fictional and are of my own creation. However, the ideas/opinions echoed in this piece are mine.

I woke up to the sounds of chanting from outside my hotel window; it was 12pm on a Monday, and I was not happy about this, especially since it was my day off. As I walked closer and closer to the window, the more people I saw appearing, and finally saw a large circle of them crowding around Columbus Circle holding up signs and chanting inaudible slogans. Let me just say that it didn’t take long for me to figure out that they were protesting Columbus Day.

But instead of moving away from the window and going onto my computer (since I had college apps to do), I just stood there, in deep thought about my past and the blood that ran through me. Should I have been out there too? This guy named Columbus, who “discovered” America, brought unknown illnesses, and indisputable Colonialism to the local people of the Bahamas and soon enough to the rest of the Americas, killing most of them off. Why shouldn’t I be protesting?

“Miguel vamanos! Nosotros necesitamos visitar La Universidad de Nueva York y Columbia” my mother said across the room. Well that pretty much answered my question, since I was only half Native American, and was raised under a mainly Mexican culture. Because if I’m not even familiar with my Apache culture, then am I even Native American?

This question remained with me as my mom and I toured both the NYU and Columbia campuses, who both went into detail about diversity on campus. Whenever the tour guide mentioned that, my mom looked at me, giving me the eye about what we talked about before “Marking Native American on college applications”.

When the tours finally ended and we finished having dinner, my mom and I separated, her going to Times Square and me back to the hotel room to finish my college apps. But instead of going directly back to the hotel room, I took a detour to Central Park to think more about my situation.

What should I do? If I marked Native American on my college app, then I might get into these colleges easier. But also, that would mean that I would get in more because of my race than my grades, tests or extracurriculars, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to get in on merit, but my family saw differently.

According to them, if there is an easier way to get into a great college, then you have to take it. My parents didn’t go to college, but they have encouraged me to do so as long as I can remember.

They would want me to put my race and ethnicity down on my college application because it means that I would potentially give me a better life than the ones they had.

They even told me stories of working in the fields back in California, and how hard it was to do that every day during the summers; I wanted to make them happy, but me as well.

If someone quizzed me on my Apache culture, I would fail, for my Mexican one, I would easily excel. But no matter what I say or do, that blood is still in me, and no one could change that. And yes, Columbus did so much wrong and I could protest if I wanted to. But already being here and applying to great colleges, I felt that that was a protest against our Colonialist past already. I then easily made up my mind then and walked back to my hotel.

After filling out both college applications, I lastly marked under race “Native American” on both, being at last firm about my decision. I breathed in and out once, then pressed enter. Then the screen changed, thanking me for my submission, and telling me that I’d be informed of my decision in a couple of months.

My family and I celebrated when I received acceptances from both colleges later. I not only would be proud to represent my family when going to college but also my cultures as well, both Mexican and Apache.