Majoring in gender and women’s studies helped this graduate find her voice

This I’m a Berkeleyan was written as a first-person narrative compiled from a UC Berkeley News interview with student Daniela Guadalupe Castellanos, who’s graduating this May. 

This is my third year at Berkeley, but I’m graduating already. I am from northeast Sacramento, a really small town, Cameron Park, where there’s nothing really there except McDonald’s.

When I first arrived at Berkeley, I was overwhelmed by impostor syndrome. Back home, every passing smile felt like a reminder that I belonged somewhere. But here, I felt invisible. I could walk across campus, and it was as if no one noticed I was there. That loneliness cut deeper than I expected, not just because I missed home, but because I began to question whether I deserved to be here at all. However, that experience didn’t break me; it pushed and motivated me. It made me fiercely committed to building spaces of belonging and nurturing relationships with others.

In my pursuit of community, I joined LPLS, which is the Latine Pre-Law Society. The people are amazing and welcoming. A lot of the [experiences] that I thought were only me when I came to Berkeley freshman year, like, “Why am I so close to my family?,” all of them had similar experiences. They were so passionate and involved in Mexican culture, all the most beautiful parts of it. We, as the children of immigrants, are still continuing the culture and building more for future generations within places not designed for us to succeed. I want to retain my traditions and my language because those are the ties I have to my family that I work so hard to give back to.

Spanish is my first language, but growing up in a predominantly white town, no one else spoke the language outside of my parents. So, I slowly started losing it as it morphed into an Americanized version with my English accent. But in coming to Berkeley and being immersed in so many different cultures and languages, I realized how beautiful it was to have this language that connected me to my roots.

They say you come [to college] and you figure out who you are. It made me realize my own Mexican identity.

I’m majoring in gender and women’s studies, and then I’m minoring in human rights and Spanish. I always found myself very interested in feminist ideas and gender inequalities. That stems from growing up in a traditional Mexican family with strict gender roles. I’d always get into arguments with my parents, and with my mom especially, because I was constantly questioning and rebelling against these roles. 

I started taking gender and women’s studies classes, and I loved them all. My world turned completely upside down, a full 180. I thought, “This makes so much sense; words are finally being put onto my experiences and what I have seen.” I felt anger inside of me for a lot of things, and these classes put words and understanding to that. That is what I wanted to know: Who is missing from history?

Coming here, I’ve discovered the history behind why things are a certain way, something I was never exposed to before. I’ve taken so many amazing classes. One was Slavery and African American Life Before 1865. Everything Dr. Ula Taylor said, I was thinking, “This is so important; I want to remember this, and I’m so thankful that I am learning this.” If everyone could take this class, especially the people back home, I think they would be able to understand why it’s so important to fight for equality and equity, understanding that the past continues to follow us into the present and the future.

I ended up deciding to do law because I realized that was a way I could implement [my learnings] in a direct way, and I wanted to be there for people’s crisis situations. I really wanted to get involved in domestic violence work or sexual violence advocacy. I ended up being able to intern at the family law facilitator’s office in the El Dorado County court. They give free legal advice to people wanting to get a divorce or experiencing domestic violence.

I want to break the cycle of silence around abuse, because in my own family, domestic violence has been passed down for generations. I grew up watching pain be normalized, voices be silenced and wounds be ignored. For so long, I just wanted to be heard. To have my pain acknowledged. That longing has become my purpose. I want to speak not just for myself but for those who are still afraid to. And I want my voice to matter and to challenge the acceptance of abuse.

After graduation, I’ll be moving back home for a year to focus on preparing for the LSAT and crafting a strong application for law school. But my commitment to justice and community won’t pause. I hope to volunteer with a local nonprofit, where I can continue to empower marginalized voices and confront systems of injustice.

If I could talk to my freshman-year self, I’d tell her: You can do this. You belong here. I spent so much of that first year drowning in self-doubt, constantly feeling like everyone else had something I lacked. I’d remind myself that my voice matters, that I don’t need to shrink myself to make others comfortable. But now, I’ve learned that standing out isn’t something to fear — it’s something to own. Today, I carry myself with the courage to lead with conviction, and I am grateful UC Berkeley has aided me in that process.