Princess G Reinoso

My time at Baruch. Like many I was scared, anxious, nervous, overjoyed, exhilarated on the first day. Who knew what Baruch had to offer? Honestly I like to believe that us as Baruch Scholars are a big L taking family. It helped the transition immensely and making friends at a commuter school has been a little on the easy side. From taking similar courses, to utilizing the honors lounge to catch up on Netflix, gossip and do everything else than actual work, now it as ritual to go in every Wednesday and chill. Preparing Tamara’s birthday party wasn’t really a hassle but really getting anything done was actually surprising. I honestly don’t even know how that birthday card came out but it was all worth it with Tamara’s confused face of “whose birthday is it?”

At Baruch I’ve gotten to know another inviting crazy Latino family similar to mine known as LASO. I think I’m the only freshman in this club but they are just so welcoming, funny, and love to eat and party. We held an event called Latino food week where for three days all we ate was a bunch of Spanish food starting with appetizers like empanadas to entrees like chicken, beans, and rice. Ending with some amazing desserts like tres leche cake and flan.

At Baruch one of the most helpful and laid back classes has been anthropology. Okay who are we kidding? It’s been communications. Yes many people think I am loud and not scared, but people that’s just an act. Inside I feel like a hot air balloon about to pop. Is it getting hot in here or is it just me? My cheeks turn insanely red. I shouldn’t just say my cheeks but my entire body. My hand starts to shake and my voice starts to tremble. I am not saying that, that still doesn’t happen. It does. But I’ve gotten better on controlling it. So much that I won a $50 gift card for my one minute pitch on my invention at the Maker Hub, where I beat both John and Evans lame idea.  Communication has really helped on my speaking skills and making me more outgoing. Well more than usual.

In three years I honestly hope that the Baruch Scholars still keep in touch like the familia I know we can be, but this time takings “W’s” instead. I hope that I know for sure what I want to do with my life, graduate and say I made it. For my friends and especially for my parents. Their drive, their struggles, their ambition has made me who I am and I have the rest of my life to thank them every day for who I will become.

Let’s keep it real. As college student we all want to get “lit.” You know “turn up!”  The last thing in our minds right now is helping the community, since we’re so new to it.

But how do you meet the people in your community. Clubs. I’ve gone to a couple cultural clubs to check them out and being completely honest I’ve loved them. The joy to celebrate and express where you come from is unexplainable. I joined both LASO (Latin American Student Organization) as well as Ecuadorian Club and both these clubs have shown me that Baruch does have a welcoming familia (family) as they say. It’s inspired me to take upon that same role at Baruch. To welcome people into a scary place known as our future. People who I would have never thought of talking to in the four years I’m at Baruch, are now having “roast sessions” on what you wear and honoring you with the “L.”

However as a Baruch Scholar, I feel grateful for not having to pay for tuition. I feel welcomed into a smaller community creating a different family within us. I also feel grateful for the honor lounges we have to put our feet up and binge watch on Netflix.  As a Baruch scholar I feel I should give back a part of what makes me unique. Weather that is lending a hand to a friend in need or the simple task of smiling can brighten someone’s day. The volunteer project is a great way to do so because the little things make a big difference.

Princess what? Princess Diana, Princess Isabella, Princess Elizabeth. No just Princess. All my life I have been questioned about my name. The most common reaction is 2 lines forming between someone’s eye brows with the most confused face someone can have. Then seconds later chuckling and once again asking “No, what is your real name?” Now this time the word “real” has been emphasized.

So whose brilliant idea was it to name me Princess? I guess we can blame it on my mother. Let’s start off by telling you how I got this name.

Once upon a time… in a land far far away (well really not that far away here in New York) my mother was about to give birth. She didn’t trust the hospital near where we lived at the time or any other hospital that was not in Manhattan. She called a cab to take her to the city. With traffic jams, during rush hour she felt as if I was going to be born in the back of the cab and all she could do was hope for the best. Somehow her prayers were answered and she got to the hospital before it was time. The cab driver offered to take her in and she thought she could make it since it was only a few steps till the entrance.

As she wanted to start walking, she couldn’t move at all. Her feet didn’t obey the chemical signals sent from her brain (probably not right, but you get the point).  She’s told me this story a billion and one times and she keeps changing it but somehow as a firefighter was coming out of the emergency room, he had seen her struggling to move and had ran up to her and had said, “Are you okay miss? Did your water break?” My mom with her not so great English at the time had understood if she would like some water. She happily said yes of course and the next thing she knew she was swung off her feet, onto his “strong muscular, vein popping” hands. He rushed her in and had said “SHE’S GIVING BIRTH. SHE”S GIVING BIRTH!”

You know what happens next. As she heard me screaming all she could do was smile. It was all over. Her second son was born. The doctor held me and as she was passing me onto my mother’s hands she congratulated my mom saying “It’s a girl.” My parents never knew if I was going to be a boy or a girl because the doctor had told that it was a 50/50 chance. As my mom held me onto her arms as sweat dripped down her forehead she asked the doctor that helped deliver me, her name. The doctor smiled and showed her, her name tag. It read “Dr. Princess B.” Till this day she can’t remember her last name but does swear that her first name was Princess.

So instead of being Jessica G. Reinoso, I was changed to be Princess G. Reinoso. She hopes, my mother that is, that I can grow up and be a doctor one day. Just like the doctor that delivered me. Beautiful, intelligent, friendly, and caring. Little does my mom know that the sight of blood makes me faint, that I don’t understand biology for my life, and I cannot stick a needle into anyone.

So here I am at Baruch trying to study anything other than the science field. Because if I became a doctor, we would have no hope.

 

P.S. My dad thought I was a boy. He arrived at the hospital that afternoon with my brother in his hand, a bouquet of roses for my mom, and the biggest bluest balloon in hand reading “It’s a boy.” My mom laughed at the site as she said go take a look for yourself. I understand you can’t really tell ESPECIALLY when babies are just born if they’re a boy or a girl but my dad’s mind was set. He even said, “that’s my boy.” My mom couldn’t stop laughing that she asked my dad to change my diaper. He thought my mom was crazy because of giving birth he just gave her that, we’ll get you some help smile. He grabbed me in his arms. Opened the diaper, and…Surprise! It was me. A girl. My dad faced turned completely red with tears running down both his cheeks and the biggest smile a man could have as he ran to kiss my mother.