Finding His Voice: Luis’s Journey Navigating Culture, Advocacy, and First-Generation College Life

 Luis Pereira-Lazo, incoming junior at Duke University

Luis Pereira-Lazo was not always aware of the power his voice held. That changed during a trip to Washington, D.C. with Duke Beyond Borders, where he found himself speaking up for immigrant communities like his own. In that moment, he realized just how much his words could matter.

Now an incoming junior at Duke University, Luis studies public policy with a minor in journalism and media, and a certificate in education. He’s the proud son of Honduran immigrants and grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, far from the Gothic arches and elite circles of Duke. But even in unfamiliar spaces, Luis has found purpose.

He discovered his purpose through Duke Beyond Borders, a student-led organization that supports immigrants, asylum seekers, and refugees.  What began as helping out at workshops quickly evolved into something much larger. By his sophomore year, Luis was elected as the organization’s publicity chair and reimagined the group’s entire identity. He introduced butterflies, symbols of migration and transformation, as their new emblem and began creating accessible, visually striking infographics that translated complex immigration policy into something people could understand. Their social media took off. Other schools, such as Brown University, and organizations began sharing their work. What once felt like a small student group had grown into a movement.  Starting next year, Luis is excited and honored to step into the role of co-president.

Luis’s journey to Duke wasn’t linear. His public high school offered limited college guidance, and most students were unaware of how to initiate the application process. Luis took it upon himself to figure out the solution. He worked late into the night, writing essays and piecing together applications, mostly alone. The immense stress that he endured during this moment took a mental and physical toll on him. “It was all a challenge,” he admits. “I was on my deathbed writing college essays.”

He applied to Duke through QuestBridge. When he was finally accepted and on a full ride, he shared the news with his mom. Although he had hoped for a joyful reaction, his mom simply questioned why he had only been accepted to one school. “It annoyed me at first,” he laughs, “but I had to remember that they [his parents] don’t understand these kinds of struggles or how much of a privilege it is to attend a school like Duke.” 

Adjusting to life at Duke brought new challenges. The shift from a predominantly minority high school to a largely white institution was a difficult transition. Luis found himself homesick for familiar sounds, foods, and faces. He often questioned whether he belonged. 

“I used to tell myself, ‘I went to a public school, that’s why I’m behind,’” he says. But he pushed past that mindset. Instead of shrinking back, he began to speak more, not despite his story, but because of it. He realized that his lived experiences were not only valid but necessary. The stories of students like him deserved to be heard, especially in places shaping future policy.

Luis found comfort through programs like QuestBridge and DukeLife, which support first-generation, low-income students. Whether it’s a finance workshop or a quiet moment with friends, those spaces became home.

Being first-gen means navigating two worlds, he explains. At Duke, he’s surrounded by opportunity. At home, he feels grounded by culture and family. Sometimes, the two feel impossible to balance. “When I’m at home, I think about everything I could be doing to build my career and explore what’s out there. But when I’m at Duke, I miss home.”

Still, he also sees this tension as a privilege. “When I go home, I’m hungry to strive for more.”

After graduation, Luis plans to take a gap year or two, a decision he embraces, despite the stigma. “People think if you take a break, you won’t go back. But I love learning. I will.” He’s considering nonprofit consulting, immigration law, or even public office. Regardless of the path, advocacy will remain at the center of our efforts.

His advice to fellow first-gen students is simple: “Just do it. You’ll face barriers, but that’s life. I’d rather struggle while learning and growing than sit back wondering what could’ve been.”

He hopes more Latino students claim their space in higher education. “There are so many false stereotypes about our culture. We need to be seen. We need to be heard.” College can feel overwhelming, especially when you are the first in your family to attend, but he believes it's worth it.

“If I’m going to be in these rooms,” he says, “I want people to know me, my story, and my experiences. Because if I’m not being real, what am I even doing here?”

Luis’s journey is a reminder that the path to higher education is often filled with uncertainty. However, it is also rich with growth, identity, and purpose. At Futuro Educado, we believe in amplifying stories like his–stories that prove first-generation students don’t just belong in these spaces; they help redefine them. Luis shows us that advocacy can start at home, take root in the classroom, and reach Capitol Hill. And for students like him, being the first doesn’t mean doing it alone. It means leading the way for those who come next.