Justin Rael was born and raised in Questa and the closest thing he saw to a legal career came from a distance—his teachers, his grandmother, a handful of people with master’s degrees. But by sheer grit, Rael beat the odds, earning a spot at a prestigious law school in San Francisco through a Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) scholarship.
That journey came to an abrupt turn this year.
In March, the Trump administration announced it would withhold federal funding from universities that continued to support DEI-based programs and scholarships. In response, Rael’s scholarship was cut, forcing him to leave his prestigious program to return to New Mexico.
“I will forever wonder what my life would have turned out like if I’d been able to stay in San Francisco,” Rael said. “I came to law school because I saw the need in my own community and because of my own experiences with the legal system—not to make a million dollars.”
Rael arrived at law school unsure if he belonged. Competing alongside students from Harvard, Stanford, and Berkeley, Rael said he almost dropped out after the first day. But he stayed—putting in 15-hour days, attending every tutoring and office hour session, and earning one of the highest grades in his contracts class.
His performance earned him a prestigious summer placement working for a federal judge in the Northern District of California, and a growing network built not on legacy or family connections, but on persistence.
Then, everything changed.
The federal crackdown on DEI initiatives has left many students from working-class or underrepresented backgrounds without critical funding. Rael said misconceptions about DEI often ignore the “equity” component—programs that help students from low-income and rural communities access the same opportunities as their wealthier peers.
“I was born, raised, and educated in Questa, NM,” Rael said. “That fact alone qualifies me for a DEI scholarship because Questa is a rural community with no major industry and a severe lack of opportunity and resources.”
He also pointed to recent changes in federal student loan policy that cap annual borrowing for graduate and professional students at $20,000, while also instituting lifetime borrowing limits—$200,000 for professional degrees and $100,000 for master’s programs. With average law school tuition ranging between $35,000 and $55,000 per year—not including housing, books, or living expenses—Rael said those limits make higher education unattainable for many.
“These policies will make it nearly impossible for anyone without wealth to pursue law, medicine, or any other professional degree,” Rael said.
While Rael considers himself fortunate to have been accepted to attend the University of New Mexico Law School where he has secured in-state tuition, he worries about those who will not be able to continue. He said some of his peers opted to rely on loans when their scholarships were pulled—but that option, too, will disappear in 2026 when the new loan caps take effect.
“They have essentially made obtaining a professional degree inaccessible for the entire working class, but especially folks from low-income communities,” Rael said.
Once he graduates, Rael will become the first attorney born, raised, and educated in Questa in several decades.
“Unfortunately, due to these restrictions and limitations, it will probably be another several decades until we see another,” he said.
Despite the challenges, Rael remains committed to his purpose. “Goodbye, San Francisco, we had a good run,” he wrote in a social media post. “I look forward to completing my education at the University of New Mexico School of Law.”
