"How is your mercy?"

"My little queen, my little dove!"

I understood a few phrases my grandmother murmured from thousands of miles away over the phone, but her words came from another century. Colombians are known for speaking "Oxford Spanish" and my mother has always proudly stated that fact, but it never applied to me while I grew up. I understood little and spoke even less until high school. When I went to university, I sought more than just linguistics, I wanted to understand and absorb the Latino culture.

The UC Berkeley community paradoxically welcomed diversity while labeling people. I went from being Caucasian to "Mixed Heritage" and found many who shared a Latino background. My last family visit to Colombia had taken place when I was six, and I needed to pay my own way to gain my parents' blessing to return. By sophomore year I had won scholarships and earned enough from a part-time job to cover tuition, housing, and food. That winter, I went to Colombia.

My cousins greeted me like a long-lost sibling and immersed me in their world. Roads were still safe for car travel (the guerillas hadn't yet endangered it) and we climbed 10,000 foot mountains and descended into valleys as we explored coffee plantations, lush tropics, small villages, and family farms. Odd nostalgia for odors like car exhaust and greasy buñuelo bread was replaced by the smell of sizzling meat and bougainvillea. My language and sense of humor were tested as I goofed my way through a series of malapropisms. "Yes," I informed my scandalized Catholic cousin, "it would be nice to travel in lust!" though I meant to say "luxury." I told everyone it "rained jerks" during a hailstorm and how delicious the eyebrows tasted as I ate mushrooms for dinner.

I have since visited Colombia frequently, serving as ambassador and translator. I paved the way for my cousins to come to the United States and brought my brother with me to Colombia on subsequent trips. Although my grandmother had passed away before I had begun my quest, I spent two visits with her sister. Three months before my great-aunt died, I translated her last conversation with my brother. It was his first and last opportunity to really speak to her, and all of us were moved to tears.

When I tell people I'm Colombian, I am still surprised at how often they mention drugs and jokingly press me for industry details and connections. For me, Colombia represents family, belonging, personal enrichment, and love. To many people, however, it corresponds to the international drug and kidnap capital of the world.

I know that Fuqua encourages diversity by bringing together individuals of many backgrounds. In addition to strong work experience, community leadership, and academic excellence, I offer experience in building alliances, integrating people, assimilating new cultures, and the ability to laugh at myself. I possess a unique understanding for people's different contributions and viewpoints, and most importantly, I bring a willingness to learn from and share with others.