Leyten's Essay
My identity is much more than the story my resume and accolades tell. Despite my records reflecting high achieving academics and extracurricular involvement, my motivations and passions remain overlooked—wanting others to feel heard. My experiences have shaped this passion, sparking my interest in law and motivating me to pursue a career in the field.
I never spoke of my father, not even to my closest of friends. To everyone else, I looked like an average girl with the perfect life—nobody knew my true story. I never recognized my father’s behavior until I was in the second grade. It was at a school event, a carnival, that he arrived intoxicated. So much so my mother sent him walking home. This was my first encounter with my father’s dependence on alcohol, but certainly not my last. This dependence strained the relationships around him, starting with my mother, then moving to my siblings, and after a while I began to stop thinking of him as my dad. Unable to stand his years of abuse, my mother came to her last resort: divorce.
Despite strenuous effort explaining my father’s inability to care for his children, my mother was only given partial custody of me and my two brothers. Every other week we would be forced to spend a weekend with my father. Those Friday’s at school, when I knew I would have to go to my father’s house, I became paralyzed in fear. Crying in the backseat of my mother’s car on the way to my father’s house, pleading with her to let us not go-–she didn’t have a choice. At his home, my siblings and I didn’t even have our own rooms, shared or otherwise; there was no privacy. I remember the discomfort and distrust I felt when there. I would go without food the one night I was there—not out of his inability to provide, but from his lack of care. Most nights, he would pass out on his couch, his bed, or his floor before being able to tend to our needs. It wasn’t before long that we discovered the alcohol he had hidden away—a bottle of Smirnoff he kept hidden under the sink in the bathroom, replacing it every time we visited. At this time, I was only in the fourth grade, I didn’t know what to do. The day we came back to my mother following our visit, we told her about what we found, and she attempted to get us out. Yet, nothing changed. One night our father passed out on the edge of the bed we were sleeping in, unconscious and unresponsive. With nobody else to turn to, we called our mother. That night 911 was called, and an officer arrived at our father’s home. I finally thought we would be rescued, but I was mistaken. The officer questioned us about our wellbeing with our father in the room. I didn’t want to anger him more in fear he would lash out. So I lied. “I’m okay.” And I felt hopeless that not even a police officer, someone who should’ve helped me couldn't.
After constantly feeling let down by the adults who I was told would protect me, I was finally given a chance to speak. I secured a meeting with the lawyer representing my mother. I broke down, begging and pleading—wanting this situation to be over. After years of swallowing my words, my truth, I was finally listened to. I felt embarrassed and judged throughout my struggles—sensing the lack of empathy adults felt for me. I felt like a burden, like somebody who shouldn’t have been helped. I remember meeting with my mother’s lawyer for the first time, in a room with shelves lined with books, sitting across a wooden table from a woman in a tailored suit. She gave me the chance to speak, and I realized that this was the first place that my voice actually carried weight. Witnessing my mother’s lawyer advocate for my family brought me comfort, but also confidence. I no longer saw law as a mechanical system, but as a way to connect pain to justice, and turn silence into strength. As a result of my experiences, I struggled with anxiety, while all I wanted was to feel validated and seen. Though this eventually came to an end, I never want to see other children go through the same obstacles I had to go through. I want children to feel empowered to speak out about their struggles, and know there is a way out.
I haven't let this experience define me or limit me. I’ve used my struggles to motivate me. I finished my junior year with a 4.2 GPA, finishing in the top five percent of my class. While maintaining good academics, I’ve impacted and been involved in my schools and local community as well. Through my work with a peer mental health group at my school I have spread awareness on mental health and empowered those struggling to reach out—nobody should suffer in silence. This group, peer leadership, is coordinated with a counselor at Hamilton, and I collaborated with other adults at my high school through my high school’s student advisory council—an opportunity I’ve been grateful for. I’ve been able to advocate for students at my high school and converse with administration about considered changes. We argue for students’ ability to have access to study periods, safety within our parking lot, manageability of classes, and an abundance of other topics concerning my peers. This commitment to advocacy and support for those around me will not only help me prosper throughout the remainder of my academic career, but contribute to developing a new generation of leaders and humans who will continue to change the world for the better.
I’ve always had an inclination for history, and it was through that, I found my calling for law. My sophomore year of high school in AP United States History is when I discovered my love for history. Though we studied 500 years of history, my interests always seemed to lie particularly in the study of American politics and society. I was fascinated by how the government shifted and implemented specific policies. My history teacher would often remind my class how, “knowing and understanding history—what worked and didn't—is vital to ensuring a better future.” It finally clicked, I wanted to make a difference in peoples’ lives; one way of doing that is pursuing law. Since then I’ve studied different legislatures and court cases, and have seen how deeply our legal system is rooted in history. I understand the necessity of context within law, so I plan on attending the University of Wisconsin-Madison and studying history on a pre-law track, grounding my legal education in historical understanding.
Ultimately, I dream of practicing family law, the field that molded my childhood. The pain that once silenced me, now empowers me and has become my purpose. My experiences with the legal system and my father have taught me that behind every case is someone who simply wants to be heard. My passion for history and law combined with my personal experiences have pushed me to pursue family law. I aim to become the type of lawyer who listens, to be a voice for those who haven’t found their own. My past has become my strength, and when combined with my passion for justice, secures my commitment to ensuring others don’t have to endure what I did without support.
Though I don't have the same extensive background in the practice and application of law as other people may do, I have compassion formed from lived experience. Empathy is often overlooked, and in the many cases qualified for a family court, I believe it is necessary. In law, empathy is not a weakness, but a strength. My voice, once silenced, will be dedicated to ensuring that every client I represent feels heard and protected.
