Dona Marabe
One of the first things that fascinated me when I started learning French was how everything seemed to have a gender.
Le this. La that. It was also one of the first things that drove me slightly insane.
I had about two months' worth of basic, inconsistent Duolingo French before living in Toulouse. Somehow, I had prepared myself to move halfway across the world without properly preparing myself for the rather obvious fact that French people speak French.
But somewhere along the way, I learned that the word voiture—car—is feminine.
La voiture.
Cars, engines, combustion, machines—these were things I had grown accustomed to seeing associated with masculinity from talyers and YouTube videos and my dad and Filipino nursery rhymes like “Minikaniko ni Moniko ang makina ng Minika ni Monica”. Meanwhile, I was a woman studying Mechanical Engineering, learning about engines and combustion and mechanical systems myself.
And somehow, French, a language that insisted on assigning a gender to practically everything in existence, had apparently looked at the car and decided: this one’s feminine.
I found that simple fact strangely comforting, because most days in engineering, I looked nothing like what people might imagine when they pictured the person who would take charge of the room—but somehow, I found myself being the person who had a seat in the room in the first place.
Getting there, however, was another problem
“Are you telling me you applied for this without knowing how you’d pay for it??”
Well… yeah, pretty much :’ )
But quite frankly, I didn’t actually think I’d even get in.
As much as that somewhat condescending remark from an admin stung, I truthfully couldn’t blame them. Shooting my shot isn’t really a new concept for me, but I rarely get to see opportunities through. I don’t come from a well-off family, but I’ve humbly made the most out of the blessings that He’s thrown my way all throughout my life.
It does take a couple extra hurdles for a dreamer to become an achiever when you’re dealt the same cards as I have, but I’d gladly, shamelessly, and unapologetically go through them if it meant making this whole process easier for the next wide-eyed, passionate risk-taker that comes around.
I came across a random HDA one day while mindlessly scrolling through my feed:
[OVPERI] INSA Toulouse Exchange Program Fall 2023 Semester“A chance to experience French culture while studying abroad at one of the top engineering schools in Europe.”
It sounded too good to be true. Applying entailed going through a rigorous process close to applying for university the first time around. I had to pass my grades, write an essay, and even go through an interview with DLSU just to be chosen as the school’s representative to actually apply for the program, only to apply directly with INSA all over again.
The moment I got the congratulatory email telling me I somehow actually got in, I felt both incredibly happy and hopelessly anxious.
Because getting accepted was one thing.
Affording to actually go was another.
I just knew I wouldn’t want another chance to hold onto hope to slip through my fingers, so I started a donation drive, contacted all the organizations I thought possible, created meticulous budget trackers leading to my departure, and strived to make the most out of my existing scholarship.
I applied for €1 meals through CROUS to save on food and made my way through the time-consuming process of French social security to spend less on healthcare.
I ended up with the STAR Scholarship covering all tuition fees for the semester, the donations covering most of my pre-departure necessities, and the DLSU Office of the Provost, the OAS, and the USG OVPEA Glocal Advancement Program covering my airfare, rent, and food.
I still can’t help but overflow with gratitude at the mere thought of all these blessings falling upon a gamble for a student to simply bet on herself as well.
Truthfully, I’m only here because of all the kind hearts that believed in me enough to remind me that needing help to get there doesn’t make me any less of an achiever.
Of course, getting myself to France did not suddenly make life a whole lot easier. I meticulously budgeted my groceries every single day. I cooked my own meals. I benefited tremendously from the €1 CROUS meals and Too-Good-To-Go meals from the cafeteria under my dorm. Eating out was something I would schedule—one good meal every two weeks. I went all the way to France and never saw the Eiffel Tower, or even Cité de l'Espace while I was already in Toulouse. I never even visited Paris. And I think there’s something almost funny about that.
There is a particular image people have of studying abroad in France: weekend trips, cafés, museums, Paris, pretty outfits immediately as you land at Charles de Gaulle.
Mine involved a lot more spreadsheets, but I don't think that made my France any less meaningful.
If anything, getting there proved something to me that I desperately needed to know: my passion means something.
Maybe I didn't have enough money to make something like this happen entirely on my own, or even make my life comfortable while I was already there, but I had enough passion to convince other people to take a chance on me and make it happen in the first place.
And once they did, I had every intention of making that chance count.
It hasn’t been easy studying hard just to study even more.
A lot of my classes were in French.
I did not speak French.
So Google Translate was, quite frankly, my best friend.
I would sit through lectures trying to simultaneously understand the engineering concept, and the language being used to explain the engineering. After class, I would go back through my notes and write everything down again. I would review concepts I hadn't fully understood the first time around. I asked a lot of questions—even when I worried I was becoming annoying.
Getting into the room did not magically make me capable of everything happening inside it.
I still had to learn.
And learn.
And then translate what I was learning.
And then learn it again.
Three months in, I’m attending Master’s-level classes at 21 years old, learning a new coding language and two new Finite Element simulation programs, going through lab work for manufacturing composites and non-destructive testing, as well as designing a Mudry CAP 232 aerobatic aircraft wingbox and a prototype for active thermal control in a CubeSat—all while sitting right in Europe’s Aerospace Capital.
Aerospace Engineering was once the plan—quite frankly, it was the dream. I had applied to schools abroad hoping I could study it directly, but I couldn't get enough financial aid to make any of them possible.
So I ended up in what felt like the next best thing for a dreamer in the Philippines—Mechanical Engineering.
For a while, I thought that meant I had given up on aerospace.
Apparently, I hadn't.
Because there I was in Toulouse, sneaking into ISAE-SUPAERO’s library—the Marie Marvingt Aérothèque—to borrow books about propulsion and read about aerospace engineering simply because I wanted to, and now, I could.
I didn't suddenly become an Aerospace Engineering student.
I am still a Mechanical Engineering student.
Still Filipino.
Still usually the only woman in the room.
Still the shortest.
Still often the youngest.
Still budgeting my groceries and translating my lectures.
But I am also designing an aerobatic aircraft wingbox.
I am doing research on a CubeSat.
I am learning composites, simulation, and non-destructive testing.
I am leading meetings, defending projects solo, directing group works.
Maybe ending up in Mechanical Engineering hadn't taken me as far away from that dream as I thought.
I don't think learning that voiture is a feminine noun changed my life.
It's just grammar.
But somehow, there was something wonderfully ordinary about finding femininity attached to a machine so integral to mechanics and its applications without anyone needing to justify why it belonged there.
I never had that many role models who looked like me or shared the same dreams I had. I certainly didn't grow up assuming that someone like me—a Filipina, a woman, a Mechanical Engineering student without the money to simply pack her bags and study abroad—would one day find herself studying engineering in France.
Yet here I am.
Not because everything miraculously became easy, and certainly not because I suddenly stopped needing help.
Quite the opposite.
It took scholarships. Donations. University funding. €1 meals. Social security paperwork. Meticulous spreadsheets. Home-cooked meals. Google Translate. A lot of questions. A lot of studying. And an almost unreasonable willingness to apply for something before I knew exactly how I was going to make it work.
And maybe there’s no shame in that.
Now, I’ve somehow found myself slowly becoming the kind of role model I once yearned to see. Failing and falling short are merely parts of the long, winding journey, so just keep reaching for the stars.
Who knows, maybe they’d even end up aligning just for you. 💫