When Jada E., who asked that her full name not be used to protect her privacy, walks to class at FAMU, the weight she carries is not just in her backpack. It is the quiet weight of expectation—the hopes of parents and grandparents who see in her a future they themselves could only imagine. As the first in her family to attend college, she is navigating uncharted territory, a world her parents admire from afar but cannot help her traverse.
“There’s a pride there, but also a loneliness,” said Jada, a sophomore from Miami. “You’re figuring out FAFSA, course loads, office hours—things your family can’t help you with. You feel the weight of making their sacrifice worth it.”
Her experience is far from unique. At FAMU, as at many historically Black colleges and universities across the nation, a significant portion of the student body are pioneers in their families. While the university does not publish exact figures, it is estimated that between 43% and 52% of its full-time undergraduates are first-generation students, markedly higher than the national average of 33% at predominantly white institutions.
These students often arrive with immense ambition and resilience. Yet, as a recent study from the Pell Institute underscores, their path is frequently marked by financial precarity, psychological strain, and the subtle, persistent burden of having to bridge two worlds.
The report, “Is College Worth It?: Black, Latinx, and Indigenous Student Voices,” details the trade-offs first-generation students make. Among its findings: 91% of the student loan holders in the study were first-generation students, with 78% deeply concerned about the long-term debt. Many work multiple jobs, stretching themselves thin to afford both tuition and daily necessities like transportation.
“Financial instability has been a large factor in my journey,” one student from Atlanta, GA told Rattler Nation during a recent group discussion in Coleman Library. “I often don’t have transportation money. I find it difficult to focus when I am worried about upcoming assignments.”
This balancing act is a central theme. Students frequently describe the difficulty of maintaining relationships with friends and family who may not understand the rigors of higher education. “It can be hard for them to understand that school comes first for me,” another student explained. The pressure to maintain scholarships with a high GPA often means social sacrifices and intense isolation.
These challenges take a toll on mental health. According to the Healthy Minds Study, which tracks well-being in higher education, about 72% of college students report moderate to severe psychological distress. For first-generation, low-income students, these rates are often higher, compounded by the collision of academic pressure, financial strain, and family expectations. In the Pell Institute’s study, two-thirds of first-generation students reported experiencing mental health challenges.
We’re very intentional about approaching first-generation student support from an asset-based lens,” said William Hudson, Ph.D, FAMU’s vice president for student affairs. “These students break down generational barriers. Education is the cornerstone of economic mobility, and their success is vital for our communities and workforce.”
He described the university’s approach as a “team effort across the institution,” aimed at building a robust ecosystem of support through mentorship, dedicated resources, and community building. These efforts have contributed to FAMU’s consistent ranking among the nation’s top universities for social mobility—a measure of how effectively it graduates economically disadvantaged students into well-paying careers.
For faculty like Frank Nelson, a professor in the College of Science and Technology, the mission is personal. A first-generation graduate himself, he understands the invisible hurdles.
“A lot of my success came from mentors who helped me see what was possible,” Nelson said. “Now I get to do the same for my students, by reminding them they belong here and that their experiences matter. It’s not just one program or office; it’s a community working together.”
That community is visible across campus, where first-generation students are leading student organizations, mentoring their peers, and redefining what it means to be the first.
Generational ripple effect
The most significant legacy of a first-generation college graduate is not measured in a single diploma, but in the generational transformation that follows. Successfully navigating higher education often leads to substantially higher lifetime earnings, providing direct economic mobility that can lift entire families out of poverty and establish lasting financial stability.
More fundamentally, it turns the prospect of college from a distant abstraction into an attainable expectation for siblings, children and cousins. The psychological barrier falls, replaced by a new inheritance of possibility. "I'm not just the first to go to college," one student remarked. "I'm making sure I'm the last to go alone."
This influence extends its reach into the wider community. First-generation graduates frequently return to their neighborhoods as teachers, health professionals, entrepreneurs and civic leaders, bringing with them an intimate understanding of local challenges. They become living testaments to what is possible, their careers serving as powerful catalysts for aspiration. By embodying the tangible outcomes of their education, they inspire younger generations to see college not as an impossible leap, but as the next logical step, fostering a self-perpetuating cycle of achievement and investment in the community's future.
For now, students like Jada continue to write a new family narrative—one lecture, one exam, one earned credit at a time.