Throughout my academic journey, I have often found myself unable to relate on a personal level with my peers. For example, classmates will talk about the careers of their family members, many from families of professors. When such a conversation arises, I remain silent because why would I want to tell my peers that my dad is a construction worker and my mom works at a grocery store?
Although these situations don’t come up often, they leave lasting impressions. I find myself dwelling on them when I’m alone. It makes me think: perhaps I’m just not cut out to be a mathematician. Maybe I should go back home and help support my parents.
I’m usually not a very open person, so why am I writing this article? I’ve had the good fortune of meeting some incredible mentors throughout my life, one of whom is Dr. Rodrigo Bañuelos. When I spoke with him about the opportunity to write this piece, he encouraged me to share my story, which honestly surprised me. Why would anyone care about my lived experience?
To this, Rodrigo offered a point that deeply resonated with me: “The you from ten years ago would have cared.”
Who am I?
I was born in Ecatepec de Morelos in Mexico City, the second child in a young family that was already struggling to make ends meet. When I was four years old, my parents made a life-altering decision: feeling financially trapped and fearful for our future, they risked everything to come to the United States as undocumented immigrants.
With that decision, they knew they were sacrificing their own dreams. In exchange, my siblings and I would get the chance to live a life of opportunity, one they had never thought possible in Mexico.
Having immigrated to the U.S. at such a young age, my parents thought it best not to make me aware of my legal status. For all intents and purposes, I was a “normal” Mexican kid growing up in Houston, Texas.
As I got older, I developed a natural inclination toward the sciences and dreamed of one day becoming a scientist. However, when I turned 16 and tried to apply for jobs, my parents finally told me about my undocumented status. That revelation threw all my future plans into disarray. Suddenly, the opportunities I had heard about, college financial aid, internships, even basic employment, were out of reach. I couldn’t legally work or even drive.
I finished my junior year of high school in a state of hopelessness. The following year, I met my now-wife. It was because of her that I made it through high school. Shortly after graduating, I enrolled in the newly created DACA program, which allowed me to work and drive legally. With that newfound freedom, my partner and I enrolled in the local community college together.
Community College
While studying there, I took a course with Dr. Peter Horton, who became one of my biggest inspirations. Until then, I had never been truly challenged in math. His class was the first time I realized that mathematics could be genuinely difficult and that was what made it exciting.
Dr. Horton had a different approach. He assigned group work made up of problems labeled “easy,” “medium,” and “hard,” each worth a different number of points. Thinking rather highly of myself at the time, I told my group I’d knock out a few “hard” problems and be done, but I couldn’t solve a single one. Then I noticed something: each hard problem was preceded by a related medium problem, and before that, a related easy problem. That’s when I learned an important mathematical lesson: always start with the easy problem and then try to generalize. That was, in fact, the entire point of the assignment. Upon noticing that the group work was entirely in my handwriting, Dr. Horton began encouraging me to study more advanced mathematics.
After my first year at community college, my partner and I found out we were expecting a child. Because of our financial situation, we knew only one of us could continue with school. Given my academic drive, my partner encouraged me to stay enrolled. During this time I worked part-time as a waiter, a car washer, and at a machine shop. In the end, it took me three years to complete community college.
Four-year Institution
Afterward, I knew I wanted to pursue a career involving mathematics. I enrolled at the University of Houston as a math major, with the goal of becoming an actuary. During my time there, I realized I had a strong passion for the theoretical side of mathematics. That’s when I met Dr. Alan Haynes. He usually kept his office door open, and I often stopped by to share my random mathematical thoughts. One day, he asked me, “So, have you thought about grad school yet?” to which I replied, “What’s grad school?”
I had given him the impression that I wanted to do mathematical research, which I didn’t even know was a viable career path for someone like me, a DREAMer. As it turns out, it was possible. With this knowledge, I became interested in applying for REUs.
Thankfully, I received my permanent residency just before the REU application deadlines (most of which required permanent residency to apply) and was accepted into a program. That REU gave me my first taste of real mathematical research, and I was hooked. I wanted to go to grad school and become a researcher, but doubts started to creep in. I suddenly realized that my current institution didn’t have a single Latino math professor. I struggled to find visible examples of ex-DREAMers in academia, which only deepened my doubt; the only person I could find at the time was Dr. Pamela Harris. Reading about her journey showed me that success in academia was not just possible, but worth striving for. With the support of my wife and my parents, I decided to apply to graduate programs.
Graduate School
I was accepted into a program I thought was completely out of reach: Purdue University. It was there that I met the first Mexican mathematician I had ever encountered. One day, walking through the math department, I passed a corner office with the door open. I caught a glimpse of a mathematician who, for the first time, looked like me. I had to talk to him. That was how I met Dr. Bañuelos. He welcomed me into his office, and we talked about our shared experiences. At the time, I didn’t realize it, but that meeting quietly eased a burden I had carried for years: the fear that I didn’t belong.
In 2023, thanks to the support of my wife, I became a naturalized U.S. citizen. I am now entering the final year of my program.
What’s Next?
This past year has been incredibly impactful. I was invited by Anthony Várilly-Alvarado to attend LatMath 2025, and it was an amazing experience. I got to meet many young Latino researchers in mathematics and share our stories. I plan to apply for postdoctoral positions in 2026 and continue pursuing my dream of doing mathematical research. While I recognize that I’ve been incredibly fortunate to get where I am, I hope my story resonates with someone who may be in the same place I was ten years ago.
Daniel Flores is a Ph.D. candidate in mathematics at Purdue University. His research focuses on analytic number theory, and he is passionate about mentorship and broadening participation in mathematics.