Meet Lenyx, a first-generation student completing a dual degree in political science and social work at the University of South Carolina. Lenyx wants to go to graduate school after they finish their dual degree in 2026 but recent changes to federal graduate loan programs could throw a wrench in that plan. Here, Lenyx talks about the challenges they’ve faced, why they feel called to advocate for others, and how politics is affecting the campus climate at USC.

 On getting to college and who helped guide them

I grew up in Asheville, North Carolina, in a low-income household where housing and healthcare were constant worries, and our schools lacked resources. Picture teachers rationing a single sheaf of paper for the entire year, textbooks older than me, and technology that was donated and a decade out of date. Midway through my life, we moved to Greenville, South Carolina, and the difference was night and day — better schools, more opportunities, and suddenly I wasn’t two grade levels behind anymore.

I attended a Middle College high school, where I earned 36 college credits, maintained a 3.89 GPA, and gained valuable leadership and service experience. These experiences helped me get into the University of South Carolina, where I’m pursuing a dual degree in political science and social work. I recently graduated summa cum laude in political science with leadership distinction and am now completing my social work degree while staying actively involved in campus leadership and advocacy.

I’ve had incredible mentors every step of the way. My “University 101” instructor and faculty principal taught me how college works, connected me to resources, and pushed me out of my comfort zone. Later, my housing supervisor became a key mentor, helping me with professional development and advocacy. Advisers in the first-generation center and my college encouraged my leadership and connected me to opportunities like the Today’s Students Coalition (TSC) fellowship. Of course, I cannot forget my peers and friends. Honestly, my friends have been the glue holding me together through all the chaos — they remind me to find the fun in it all.

On why they chose the University of South Carolina

Growing up in South Carolina, you’re either Team Clemson or Team Carolina — and even as a kid, I picked Carolina. Beyond nostalgia, affordability was key. As a low-income, first-gen student, out-of-state schools weren’t an option. University of South Carolina offered the degree tracks I wanted, a lower cost of living than Charleston, and I have family nearby. Every campus visit made Columbia feel more like home, and my little brother’s obsession with Cocky, USC’s mascot, sealed the deal.

What drew them to political science and social work

From a young age, I’ve wanted to help people and create change, even if my career ideas were all over the place. At one point, I thought I’d be a geneticist (until math laughed in my face), then a lawyer, then a lobbyist, before I finally landed on macro social work.

The turning point was in middle school after the Stoneman Douglas shooting. Watching kids my age lead the March for Our Lives was a wake-up call: Change doesn’t just happen — you make it happen. At first, I thought law was the only way to do that, but during high school, a teacher told me that macro-level social work, which you can do with a Master of Social Work (MSW), focuses heavily on policy work. I brushed it off at the time, but during my first year at Carolina, reality hit: The cost of law school is astronomical, and I realized I prefer the grey areas of law rather than the black-and-white rigidity. That would probably make me a good lawyer, but a burned-out one.

So, in true “Lenyx fashion,” I booked an advising appointment on a whim and walked out with a dual-degree plan. Political science gave me the policy foundation, and social work gave me the human impact lens. Together, they let me do what I love — advocating for systemic change — without sacrificing my sanity to endless case law. Plus, I get to say I built my own public policy degree.

On paying for college and the financial tradeoffs they’ve had to make

College costs really are out of reach. I’ve managed despite this through sheer stubbornness and a willingness to do whatever it takes. I’ve worked multiple jobs — sometimes two or four at a time and often in housing and student affairs — while also serving on advisory boards, leading student organizations, and advocating for first-generation, disabled, and nontraditional students and fighting for scholarships and using loans to fill the gaps. I’ve also relied on fellowships, like the one with TSC, and a state program tied to post-graduation work commitments. Even with all that, I’ve had to lean on credit cards for emergencies. It’s not easy, but I keep pushing because I believe it will pay off.

School is expensive, and my family can’t help beyond the occasional grocery order. They’re caring for my siblings who have complex needs — I’m the eldest of four — and my grandmother, all while managing medical debt. I’ve had to pay for everything myself, and when I graduated with one degree last year, I lost most of my aid — even though my second degree was concurrent. That mistake, a result of poor advice from my school’s financial aid office, cost me thousands of dollars and pushed me into a state program that looked great on the tin. Unfortunately, the contents of the tin include harsh conditions, maltreatment, and vague terms that have limited my academic and career growth rather than advancing it. Now, I’m stuck in a restrictive role that’s harming my mental health. But leaving might mean not finishing my degree and having to repay the $15,000 that the state paid toward my education. It feels like I’m sacrificing my wellbeing just to stay afloat.

On the challenges of being a first-generation student

Even with the head start I got at Middle College and the support of my mentors, I still walked into USC with very little awareness about financial aid, employment opportunities, and the fine print of college policies — especially regarding my dual degree. Some of the choices I made, thinking they were smart, ended up making things harder.

I won’t pretend I’ve overcome everything. There were times when I had to sit in the suck and just keep going. But I’ve learned to adapt, advocate for myself, and lean on my network when things spiral. Honestly, advocacy became my medicine; it gave me purpose even when I was advocating for others instead of myself. The ripple effect is real: When you fight for change, it doesn’t just help one group, it often benefits the entire campus.

How curbs on research funding, free expression, and diversity, equity, and inclusion programs on many U.S. campuses are impacting the campus climate at their university

It’s been intense. Being in the state capital means our campus feels every ripple of political decisions. Free expression has become harder to practice, and South Carolina leads the nation in book bans, which sets the tone. We’ve seen extremist groups increase their presence, and even the student government has faced challenges that have disrupted its ability to effectively serve students.

Speaking only from my personal perspective, I was involved in a situation where internal disputes and outside pressures created a tense environment. Legal suits were filed against the student government, and impeachment proceedings were initiated against a majority of its members. These events are part of the public record, and while I won’t speculate on motives, the impact was clear: For over a month, the student government couldn’t function as intended, and student needs were put on hold. To me, it felt like politics intruded into a space where it didn’t belong, making it harder to focus on what truly mattered — supporting students.

Beyond that, we’ve lost our multicultural student affairs department in name and some function, gender-neutral bathrooms are disappearing, and policies now restrict pronouns and LGBTQ+ identities on nametags and email signatures — even for student employees. Housing options for LGBTQ+ students are shrinking, and the overall climate has shifted drastically.

It’s scary to see slurs and hostility becoming normalized, but I’m grateful for the student activists and organizations that continue to push back. Still, burnout is real, and the stakes feel higher every day.

How university faculty and staff can better support students

They can start by building resource banks and being willing to learn and engage with students. Acknowledge when you don’t know something and commit to finding answers. Higher education is full of policies and laws, but not all of them reflect morality or nuance. If we only follow the letter of the law without considering its spirit, we risk repeating mistakes that history has already judged harshly.

Faculty and staff should know their college inside and out so they can guide students through hard truths with empathy instead of leaving them to learn through crises. Think of it this way: If you, as a grown adult with stability and experience, feel overwhelmed by the current climate, imagine what that feels like for students — it’s 10 times worse.

Your role doesn’t stop at teaching content; it requires a dash of social work. If you’ve exhausted what you know, dig deeper. Investigate other avenues, brainstorm new ideas, and be inquisitive for your students. Sometimes, the most impactful thing you can do is have those hard conversations and be the person who gently helps students learn life’s tough truths, instead of letting them be blindsided by reality.

Times are tough, and they’re only going to get tougher. But if we want students to thrive, we need faculty and staff who are willing to go beyond the minimum — because students are already getting hit hard by life as it is.

 Their advice for other first-gen students

College is hard — don’t believe anyone who says otherwise. You’re going to experience massive growth and challenges in a short time, and you need to be ready for that. College is basically a giant bureaucracy with rules you won’t understand at first, but those rules still affect you. Learn as much as you can about them and build a network of people who know the system and are willing to help you navigate it.

It sounds intimidating, but those people exist on every campus; you just have to step out of your comfort zone to find them. That network has been my lifeline, and as higher education becomes more complicated, it will matter even more for your success. Here’s the real kicker: You don’t have to do it all alone. Ask questions, take up space, and remember that being first-gen isn’t a weakness; it’s a superpower.

On what’s next

I’m planning to go to grad school, but the path is complicated. The state program I mentioned requires graduates to work in their agency for two years immediately after graduation, or you’re in violation of the contract and must pay back the money they contributed toward tuition. There is a deferral process, but the terms are vague, and I’ve received very little guidance on how it works.

This uncertainty, combined with recent changes to federal graduate loan programs and potential limits on Public Service Loan Forgiveness, has me worried. I’ve relied on these programs as part of my long-term plan to manage debt, and now I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. Do I risk deferring and hope for approval or delay grad school and lose momentum?

Despite all that, I know where I want to go — the University of Michigan’s Master of Social Work (MSW) program. My focus will be on policy and working with at-risk youth and adolescent populations. Essentially, I want to do what Today’s Students Coalition does, but through a social work lens — helping people directly while shaping policy that makes systemic change possible. It’s ambitious, but it’s the work I feel called to do.

Series: Getting To & Through College