Javier Becerra '17

The Gulf of Mexico, 1994

Javier Becerra, then four, found himself seasick on a homemade raft built by his father, Pedro, and two friends. Becerra and his family—mother Maria Julia Tocoronte, brother Yoel Gonzalez, and sister Maydelin Gomez—were not alone in trying to escape Cuba. Tens of thousands of their fellow countrymen had also taken to the sea, attempting to make the 90-mile trek from their island to the Florida coast or other nearby islands on makeshift vessels built from anything that might float.

They were called Balseros—“rafters”—and they were searching for a future outside of Cuba.

Pedro Becerra and friends had toiled away deep in a forested area of the mountains to build the raft. Nearly two years of work had gone into the project, and when it floated, it was considered a success. But that didn’t guarantee safety. Anywhere from 16,000 to 100,000 Cubans are believed to have lost their lives making the perilous trek from their native land, and setting off from shore was a dangerous gamble for anyone, let alone a family attempting to emigrate to the United States with small children. 

“We left with maybe 20 people on this raft,” Becerra recalled. “It was this 20-foot by 20-foot vessel that had 50-pound water barrels keeping it afloat and an old Soviet Union motor in the middle. Thinking of it now as a parent, the risk and the courage it took my parents and everyone else to do this was unbelievable.”

The raft made it between 20 or 30 nautical miles toward the Florida peninsula before a U.S. Coast Guard vessel intercepted them and transported them to a U.S. Navy vessel. Javier Becerra remembered being hoisted up a ladder by a Navy sailor and boarding a giant military boat.

Back then, evading the authorities wasn’t the goal—getting caught was. Balseros were known to paint their makeshift rafts as brightly as possible to attract attention. Flags would be flown as high as they could go. Anything to get on a true ship, and away from where they were leaving.

Once everyone on the raft had made it on to the Naval ship, sailors aimed two .50-caliber guns at the vessel Pedro had spent years building. The bullets shredded the motor, pierced the water barrels, and the Becerras’ raft slipped slowly into the gulf.

The boat may have only made it 30 miles that day, but Javier Becerra would go on to make it much further.

Rescued at sea

The Navy ship that rescued the Becerra family didn’t take them to Florida. They were taken right back to Cuba, this time to Guantanamo Bay Naval Base. Discussions between American and Cuban officials would eventually lead to the revision of the Cuban Adjustment Act of 1966, or “wet foot, dry foot” policy, where Cubans intercepted in the sea would be returned to Cuba, but those who made it to U.S. soil would be allowed to stay. But at the time of the Becerras’ journey, refugees had to make it to American waters in order to remain in the U.S. Being rescued in international waters was both a blessing and a curse—the family escaped the Communist regime, only to be returned to Guantanamo Bay. This turned out to be unexpectedly dangerous for the young Javier Becerra.

“I was crossing the street one day when an American soldier was riding his bike,” he said. “He and I collided and I went into a coma for 14 hours. They were about to fly me to Miami for treatment when I suddenly woke up.”

The Becerras were just one of thousands of Cuban and Haitian families held in Guantanamo. They lived in small huts for more than six months. “We were fed, we were taken care of,” Javier Becerra said. “The U.S. military provided what they could, but they were not prepared to house that many refugees at the time.”

Eventually the family was granted asylum and moved to Miami, but Pedro Becerra found work up north in Atlanta. In Cuba he’d been the best mechanic in town, but now was working up to three jobs in Georgia to support his family back in Miami. Times were tough. Pedro slept in his car at times to save money—and give his family a chance at a better life.

“He’s always been a blue-collar worker,” Javier said of his father. “I admire him so much. He’s an example of perseverance and hard work and is someone I’ve looked up to a lot. I grew up in poverty most of my life. My parents provided me and my siblings with a great life, but there were times we were barely making ends meet.”

The Becerra kids would go to school in the same clothes several times a week. They were made fun of by their peers, but feeling sorry for themselves was never an option. Becerra’s brother Yoel worked at fast-food restaurants to help bring in extra income. And food. Yoel brought home leftovers when his shift ended, giving his family whatever Popeyes chicken could be spared.

Acclimating to American culture was challenging. Javier picked up English the fastest, serving as a translator for his parents when bills or letters arrived in the mail.

“Those experiences drove me,” he said. “My mother had earned her Master’s degree in education back in Cuba, and growing up in the public school system showed me early on that education is the way to get ahead in the United States. My parents told us ‘We didn’t come to this country for nothing—we came here to give you a better life. You better take advantage of it.’”

"He believed in me when I didn't even believe in myself"

Javier Becerra worked throughout high school, giving more attention to helping support himself and his family than he did his grades. College seemed like a far-fetched idea, let alone law school. He knew he needed a 3.0 GPA to qualify for a HOPE Scholarship, and through sheer determination he did just that. His homeroom teacher helped him write his college application essay. His story, put on paper for the first time in black and white, was captivating. And it drew the attention of Javier Francisco at Georgia College and State University.

“Mentors are placed in your life at certain times to help you,” Javier Becerra said. “Javier knew about the story of the Balseros and called me out of the blue and told me he wanted to get me to Georgia College.”

Becerra didn’t know how to study—no one had ever taught him how—and didn’t have the SAT score to make it in.

“But Javier believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself at the time,” Becerra said. The college gave him the opportunity to interview for a different scholarship. He was shy and quiet when he spoke, his voice conveying the anxiety he felt inside. He told his story and convinced them he was worth taking a chance on. It was almost like a closing argument.

Bloomington, 2022

When he returned to Bloomington in September to receive the Maurer School of Law’s Distinguished Service Award, Becerra spoke to a large group of the school’s 1L class.He relayed some of the invaluable advice he received as a law student as well as lessons he learned on his own.

“I told them that as law students, they have to become very comfortable with the unknown,” he said. “It’s nerve wracking not knowing if you’re going to get placed in the job you want or what you’re going to do. If you don’t meet a firm’s requirements, it can be demoralizing and heartbreaking. I had no idea what was going to happen to me.”

Given another chance to prove himself at a high level, Becerra once again excelled. He earned a Stewart Fellowship in Argentina. He served as an Admissions Fellow, helping recruit future generations of Indiana Law alumni, and as vice president of LLSA. He was involved with the Pro Bono Project, won best brief honors in the Sherman Minton Moot Court Competition, and was the managing editor of the Indiana Journal of Law and Social Equality.

Still, finding his place in the legal profession remained challenging.

“I interviewed with firms and never got the opportunities that some of my classmates did,” Becerra said, “but I have grit and determination. I was going to reach my goals, and that determination set me apart. You don’t have to be the smartest, or the best, student, but you do need the drive and the will.”

Jobless after graduating in 2017, Becerra returned to Atlanta and began studying to take the Bar. He landed at King & Spalding as a staff attorney but saw an advertisement for an in-house clerkship to gain experience at Imerys, a French international mining company with its U.S. headquarters in Roswell, GA. While doing that, he continued to expand his own network, building relationships with strangers and quickly establishing himself as a hardworking, ambitious young attorney.

Today Becerra is a senior corporate counsel at Global Payments, a Fortune 500 Fintech firm, where he does transactional work negotiating contracts, assisting with vendor agreements, and a variety of other obligations.

“I started building a community here of friends and colleagues because I didn’t go to law school here and didn’t know many in the legal community,” he said. “I joined the Georgia Hispanic Bar Association and immediately sought out leadership opportunities, eventually joining as their vice president. I made great friends with people I could lean on.”

He assumed the presidency of the GHBA while the global pandemic was in full swing, and held the group together despite the challenging circumstances. He joined the Salvation Army’s Atlanta Echelon Chapter, a young professional organization, as its president just before COVID shut down much of the country. And he’s served as chair of the Corporate Counsel Committee of the Young Lawyers Division of the State Bar of Georgia.

His efforts have not gone unnoticed. He was named to Atlanta Magazine’s list of “500 Most Powerful Leaders” in 2021 and again in 2022. Latino Leaders Magazine called him a “Top Latino Lawyer to Keep Watch On” in 2020. And, in addition to his Distinguished Service Award bestowed upon him by the Maurer School of Law, Georgia College and State University honored Becerra with “The Outstanding Recent Alumni Award.”

He credits his education—both undergraduate and graduate—with getting him where he is today. But he also knows he wouldn’t be there had it not been for the incredible journey that started back in Cuba.

To be in a position to give back is great, he said. And so is serving as a role model for the next class of Latinx attorneys.

“Throughout my life, it’s been a bit easier when I’ve seen someone who looks like me or who has a similar background as me and to see myself in that position,” he said. “Being the first in the room or the only voice in the room as far as representing your heritage can be challenging at times, but it’s also something I’m very proud of. I may be the first, or the only, one in certain rooms, but I want to be sure my voice is heard. I grew up in poverty not speaking English in a Communist country. I share my story to show others what they can do. If I can do it, you can, too.”