I am honored to be here today at the commencement ceremony of the Whittier Law School Class of 2008. Today is a day of celebration in which we commemorate the accomplishments and sacrifices made by each of you and your families. You should be proud of yourselves -- Congratulations Class of 2008!

As I was writing my speech, I tried to think of some profound advice to give you today as you embark on the adventure called “The Rest of Your Life.” What I came up with is, DON’T GO! That big firm job or prestigious clerkship can wait a little longer. Apply to the Peace Corps, do a fellowship, go “find yourself” through travel, or maybe even beg your parents to allow you to move back home. From now on, there is no skipping class or scheduling work on only Tuesday and Thursday.

I’ll even let you in on a little secret -- people are actually up at 8:00 am! However, for you brave and courageous souls out there who have decided to go out on that limb known as adulthood -- know that the world is yours to conquer. There are endless opportunities available, but you have to search them out.

Today you have the privilege to say that you are a graduate of a school rich in tradition, one that has provided you with a quality education, nourished your hopes and dreams, and encouraged you to be involved with your community by being leaders. It is my hope that you take what you have learned from your years here at Whittier Law School into the world and continue to make a difference.

Now, it was not too long ago that I was sitting right where you are, wondering what my life would bring. And although I was happy to finally be graduating from law school, I was a little unsure of what was next. I was a little anxious about what my path in life should be, and where I would fit in the grand scheme of things.

It’s hard to be confident when you are unsure of your future. When you have doubts, you tend to be tentative in your actions. This is especially true when you are young. And so, graduates, as you venture forth into the world in your chosen profession, now is precisely the time to find and develop a voice. A voice that is uniquely you. Your voice.

Developing your voice will not only empower you, it is your unique gift to your community. It is a way of making your biggest contribution, your mark in the world.

We live in an ever-changing, increasingly diverse country. A country that was built on the belief that through hard work, it is possible to achieve anything. But you have to know how to achieve, and to accomplish your dreams, first you have to find your voice.

Finding your voice can be a tough thing to do. As a woman who grew up in a very traditional Latino household, I wasn’t necessarily taught to speak my own mind. You see, I am the sixth of seven children born to immigrant parents from Mexico. From a very early age, I was taught to respect my parents and my elders. My father, in particular, taught my brothers and sisters and me to always obey adults and to never talk back to them.

When I was about 10 years old, my younger brother wanted to play soccer. I didn’t – I didn’t even know what the game was. But my parents figured that since they were going to sign him up, they should go ahead and sign me up, too. I was terrified!

I had this big, heavy-set Italian coach named Mr. Smaldino. Picture a guy with Tony Soprano’s body and Danny DeVito’s attitude. He had this big, booming voice that he used to shout orders with. He would yell across the field for everyone to hear, “Sanchez, you need to move forward.” or “Sanchez, keep the winger to the outside.”

As I’d been taught, I obeyed my coach, and I never asked questions or talked back. On more than one occasion, Mr. Smaldino would ask me, “Nod your head if you understand what I want you to do.” I would look up at him a little fearfully and nod my head. That’s what my first year of soccer was like, following orders and trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. Trying to make myself small, so I wouldn’t be noticed, because I had no idea what I was doing. But I learned a lot that first year.

The next year my parents signed me up for soccer, and I ended up on Mr. Smaldino’s team again. As I began to get better and develop confidence, I began to use my voice. Suddenly, it was if I had awakened. The difference was so startling, Mr. Smaldino admitted to me that my entire first year, he didn’t even think I spoke English! He said he probably never heard me speak more than ten words that whole year. Suddenly, I was vocal. Or as Mr. Smaldino put it, “Sanchez, we spent your entire first year trying to get you to talk, and now we can’t get you to shut up!”

The point is, that as you head off to pursue your dreams, you may be terrified at times. You probably won’t always know what you’re doing. You may be tentative because you’re still learning the game, so to speak. But hang in there! And ask questions. Ask for help. Don’t worry about being conspicuous. Use your voice.

Use the talents that you have gained here at Whittier to empower yourselves! Draw strength from the values you learned at home, take the best that your traditions have to offer. But above all seek your own path by continuing to search out knowledge -- be a critical thinker. Trust your inner voice to help you make your way.

Each of you has talent and value. Whatever background you come from, you have a unique perspective, so don’t be afraid to express it. For it is only through sharing our experiences and expressing ourselves that we grow as human beings. It is the only way our society progresses.

I have spent my short lifetime trying to help others understand my culture and my perspective. It isn’t always easy. I have encountered racism, sexism, youthism (if you will). Yet it is important for me -- as it is for each of you -- to teach others differently.

Use your voice to stand up to injustice. Use your voice to help empower the powerless. Use your voice to tell your stories and to change the world.

Your young lives hold so much promise. How you make your mark on the world is ultimately up to you. You have the power to leave this world better off than how it was handed to you.

I know that law school has been a challenge for all of you. Perhaps some of you have struggled, as I did, to keep your head above water at times, so you may find it odd for me to say you are the fortunate ones. But you are.

You, by virtue of your birth or immigration status, have the advantage to pursue your dreams virtually unimpeded. Granted, to realize your full potential, you must expend some effort. But only the degree of your talent and tenacity can hold you back.

You are truly fortunate. For you are not among the 70,000 dedicated high school students who are denied the chance to attend college, or higher education based solely on their undocumented status. These young achievers are doctors who will never get the chance to heal us, police and firefighters who will never be able to protect us, and yes, even lawyers who will not be able to represent us – all because their dreams have been deferred.*

One of my favorite writers, Langston Hughes wrote about what happens when one’s dreams are deferred. Langston Hughes was half African-American and half White – and lived during a time when the color of his skin limited his prospects. He knew – all too well -- what it meant for gifted young adults to bury their hopes and aspirations away – not because of anything they had done or failed to do, but because of something that they had been born into.

He wrote:

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore –
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

Imagine how different your lives would be if you were held back from using your abilities to pursue a career in the law, or any other calling that you felt strongly about. Would your hope shrivel up like a raisin? Would the regret at not being able to pursue your dreams hurt like a wound? Or would you feel the weight of limited opportunities heavy upon your shoulders, like the weight of a heavy load? Or worst of all, would the crushing of your aspirations feel like the shattering of your soul?

Now imagine the 70,000 students in this country whose dreams have been deferred . . .

I mention this because as foot soldiers in the field of justice, you have an obligation to continually ask yourself two questions: (1) what is the law, and (2) is this a good law/a just law. I recommend that in your future law careers you ask yourself these two questions often, as it is the surest way to orient yourself with respect to your internal moral compass.

My internal moral compass tells me that it is wrong to deny accomplished students the chance to better themselves and this country. If we want our country to be the best example of democracy in the world, we must seek change. And this year, we have a unique opportunity to use the democratic process to bring about that change. Presidential hopefuls from both parties have co-sponsored the federal DREAM Act, yet it has never been made law. The DREAM Act would enable states to grant in-state tuition to hardworking immigrant students, making higher education -- and eventually citizenship -- a real possibility.*

Now is the time to exercise our collective voices to put pressure on our presidential candidates. We should ask each of them to commit to enacting the federal DREAM Act in their first 100 days in office, so that no matter who begins serving their term in the White House in January 2009, we can secure America’s future. For America’s future is only as bright as the citizenry that participates in shaping its destiny.

Now, before I leave you to march forth and accept your degrees in hand and celebrate your worthy accomplishment, the last piece of advice I’d like to leave with you is not to get discouraged. Don’t let setbacks sink your spirit. Don’t let your past lock you into a future that isn’t right for you. Take responsibility for what you want to accomplish as you begin the rest of your life.

In closing, I’d like leave you with further words from Langston Hughes. Due to his biracial background, he often felt torn between two worlds, as I – and maybe some of you --- have sometimes felt. When I first read this poem back in high school, I was struck by how it beautifully captured what I was living.

I am the daughter of immigrant parents who arrived in this country without knowing English, without much money in their pockets, and with no job waiting for them. I saw them work hard and sacrifice much to ensure that my six brothers and sisters and I would have opportunities that they never had growing up. If you would have told them when they first arrived, that some day two of their daughters would be serving in the U.S. Congress, they would have probably thought you were crazy. Their lives were hard, yet they believed in hard work and perseverance.

When I read this poem, I hear my own mother’s voice speaking to me. This is called “Mother to Son”

Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor –
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now –
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

So, Graduates of the Class of 2008: as you embark on the next leg of your life journey, don’t you sit down if the going gets tough. Don’t you turn back if the path gets rough. Because inevitably, you will encounter dark days, bare patches, splinters in your path.

But you just go on and keep climbing, and keep striving on. Don’t forget to find and develop your voice, and don’t forget to turn around and lend a helping hand to those who are struggling to climb the stairs behind you.

Thank you and congratulations to the Whittier Law School Class of 2008!