Like many other college students, I used to be a high-achieving kid, a star student and a gifted child. Now, I’m just an anxious adult. As a first-generation, low-income college student, as well as the daughter of immigrants, I’ve put immense pressure on myself to be perfect, not only for myself, but for succeeding generations.

I’m describing immigrant optimism, a theory by Yale and Princeton sociologists Grace Kao and Marta Tienda in 1995 explaining why immigrants and their children have high aspirations for a better life — to climb up the socioeconomic ladder through higher education. Kao and Tienda attribute the mindset immigrant parents pass onto their children to higher educational goals and expectations among immigrant families — and therefore high levels of anxiety to be successful, according to their families’ definition.

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Since I was a child, I’ve devoted myself to academic excellence in pursuit of the American dream: Through hard work, everyone has the opportunity to achieve success. Being aware of my family’s socioeconomic struggles at a young age from overhearing how my parents discussed our low income, combined with the household turmoil, fueled my determination to forge a better path for all of us. 

The immigrant paradox highlights why children of immigrants often outperform their non-immigrant peers. A 2016 study from the National Library of Medicine proposed that children of immigrants in the United States are more likely to enroll in college, stay employed, or continue their education and are less likely to have a criminal record or become young parents compared to children of non-immigrants.

Optimism, in moderation, can be a powerful force. It provides motivation and the ability to see opportunities in adversity. However, when optimism is taken to the extreme, it can lead to the denial of the real barriers we face as FGLI students. The relentless mantra to look at the brighter side of things can stifle our voices and diminish our ability to advocate for our needs.

I persisted in pursuing a Bachelor of Science in business administration because I was part of the No. 1 business undergraduate program in the nation, at least according to Poets and Quants, despite disliking what I was learning and the feeling of disconnection between my peers and me. I continued through the rigor of beginner programming courses because I wanted a marketable and sought-after skill, despite being embarrassingly humbled. 

I persevered through my experiences by constantly telling myself that things would get better and that it was just a temporary phase. Optimism was my constant companion, and it kept me moving forward, even when things seemed hopeless.

But I need more balance between challenging myself and knowing when to quit. I’m still learning how to motivate myself without creating overly idealistic goals I can’t attain that only lead to disappointment. When there’s a lack of victory, which is often the case, it becomes increasingly difficult to continue holding onto the faith that I’m doing a good job. Consequently, I stop believing in myself. 

Toxic optimism results in self-blame and the internalization of systemic issues. When you’re struggling financially, feeling isolated or encountering academic difficulties, it feels like your fault. When you put into perspective that your family has escaped violent conflicts or sought better work opportunities to create life in a new, unfamiliar country, your problems seem silly. Optimism can be cruel; it blinds us to the structural barriers we face daily.

It’s essential for us, as FGLI college students or children of immigrants, to understand that it’s perfectly okay to be frustrated, angry or sad about the challenges we face. These emotions are legitimate, and they can fuel our determination to change our circumstances. 

So yes, I’m still an optimist, but with a newfound awareness. We shouldn’t abandon optimism altogether, but rather we must recognize its limitations. We need to acknowledge that, as students navigating a system that may not have been designed with us in mind, we face unique challenges that prevent us from academically performing at our peak and at the same level as our non-immigrant peers.

We’re all trying our best, and it’s essential to recognize that our “best” varies from day to day and from person to person.