Annika Clarisse Memorial Scholarship

Being transgender is hard in ways that most people will never truly understand. It’s living each day with fear as a constant shadow, feeling eyes burning into your back, wondering if today is the day someone’s hate will boil over into violence. It’s waking up every morning not knowing if you’ll make it to tomorrow—yet still daring to fight for the right to be the person you know you are. There is a little girl inside me—she has always been there, waiting, crying to be let out. She isn’t some fantasy or phase; she’s real. And every day, I try to bring her closer to the surface, even when the world tells me she shouldn’t exist. Because to live in hiding is to slowly die inside. The world doesn’t see her softness, her hope, or her love. Too many see only what they choose to hate. Being trans means carrying the weight of other people’s ignorance and fear. It means glancing over your shoulder when you walk down the street. It means questioning who you can trust, worrying if someone will use your name or your body against you. The fear never completely goes away; it just becomes something you learn to live with. It seeps into the quiet moments—the bathroom mirror, the bus ride home, the late-night walk—and whispers that you don’t belong, that danger could be waiting anywhere. Yet even in that fear, there is something powerful. There’s a stubborn, unbreakable will to live as who you truly are. To look in the mirror and see your reflection slowly become the person you’ve always known inside. To speak your name out loud, even if your voice trembles. To say: I exist. I matter. I refuse to disappear. For every trans person who speaks up, there are countless others suffering in silence—afraid to come out, afraid to ask for help, afraid to be seen. And that isn’t okay. No one should have to beg for the right to be themselves. No one should have to risk losing their family, their job, or even their life just to live openly. Yet this is the reality that trans people face every single day. I want to advocate for those who can’t speak. For the little girl inside me—and inside so many others—who deserves to live, laugh, and love without fear. For the boys and girls and nonbinary souls who feel like the world has no place for them. We need to be louder than the hate. We need to fight not only for ourselves but for every trans kid growing up right now, silently wishing for a tomorrow where they can simply exist. Being transgender is hard. It’s terrifying. But it’s also brave beyond words. And it is worth fighting for—because everyone deserves to live as the person they truly are. And because every trans life is precious, beautiful, and necessary in this world.

I’m broken. I want out. Please, somebody, anybody, just tell me what’s wrong with me! I don’t understand why I feel this way: why, why, why, why, why! I thought to myself for nearly a decade as whilst I, just like Cesar and millions of trans people globally, began to lose myself to this mental despair and sink deeper into the abyss. Eventually, it got to the point where for the span of 3 years I was emotionally numb wishing to disappear and devising my next suicide attempt hoping the next would be the last. I was so afraid, so terrified, and so alone that while I’d be convincing a friend to live and the beauty of life I’d later plan a quick, painless method of ending it that I ‘hoped’ I wouldn’t run from this time. I was nothing but a husk. However, for a reason that still puzzles me today, on New Year's Eve in 2022 I came to an ultimatum: end my life at the end of the new year as a shell or live through the new year as me. I’m aware that this rationale isn’t valiant or courageous considering the former, but that was the only way to make me realize just how much I detested my current inaction and was the impetus to allow for my journey of self-discovery. From there, I made small steps; month-by-month, day-by-day revealing elements of myself till I eventually gained the courage to come out to a friend in August. Once again, here’s another blessing I had that millions of trans people around the world don’t: my friend accepted me. If he hadn’t, I honestly think I would’ve shrunk back into the umbra out of fear, but he accepted me, and the joy I felt at that moment was unreal. A few months later, I then came out to more of my inner circle which went both beautifully and abhorrently; I deepened several of my friendships vastly while experiencing hatred and bigotry from others. For instance, my hardline conservative mom reacted by exclaiming she is ‘supportive’ of me yet not one time has made a singular effort to voice my name or respect me as a human being even though I've continuously told her how draconic what she states is to me whilst she perpetually berates me for desiring to live as me. Meanwhile, at school, I’ve encountered a plethora of ‘friends’ who howl to me, “You don’t know what you’re doing and are brainwashed to think this way!” At first, I shuddered at these comments, yet – unbeknownst to me – a smolder would start conflagrating within my being fueled by these remarks. Meanwhile, as the ember was spreading, I’d begin HRT with my work money I spent all of 2023 working and saving for as I lacked insurance for it therein causing me to now spend $150 monthly on it. Despite the cost, HRT is worth every single cent I pay; to cry once more, to smile once more, and to feel once more is an experience I’d never thought I’d even be able to have. Moreover, whilst transcending the frigid void, I came to realize these millions of trans people and individuals like Cesar which I have been mentioning as well as an 8.1 billion large population each going through a myriad of tribulations that I possess the power to help them with. Thus, I acquired the purpose of helping others as best as I can: whether it be civic activism educating on issues plaguing our society that are oppressing minorities; volunteering such as free international tutoring, hosting local elementary school counseling services, or STEM advocacy and education; or even my very career path. To elaborate, I’ve always been eclectic with my interests being fairly capricious, but when I discovered medicine–I knew it was the right fit for me. Even if, during my undergraduate studies I’ll incur $35,000 in debt annually with a minimum of $130,000 at the end of my 4 years: the world will not stop me. I will pursue medicine and go to medical school since I want to support and save “anybody” utilizing the talents I do possess; the best part about medicine to me is witnessing the patient’s and their families' gratitude-filled faces after saving their lives. Moreover, this kindling flame of disdain having to bear inequality has become an inferno as I toil tirelessly against hatred with the opposite: kindness. I endeavor to end this unjust status quo with education and kindness believing in all as most people aren’t rage incarnates–rather misguided by those around them to view trans individuals as demon spawns. Additionally, the tenacity to fight has infected other aspects of my life driving me to hone my academic wit reaching heights such as placing at state for Science UIL and reaching nationals for the National Chemistry Olympiad–as always, I've shared my knowledge along the way so that others may reach these apexes as well. Moreover, I leap at the opportunity to stand up for all I observe experiencing injustice such as bullying being the “somebody” I never had through my crippling dysphoria and solitary tearing of archaic standards; i.e. bathroom passes, prejudice, and disdainful lectures. Thus, I intend to live my life fighting to rescue those who are persecuted whether it be from the forces of nature or the malicious aspects of humanity whilst remembering the fallen along the way like Cesar who got their lives ripped away from them due to cruelty. Yes, I have and will continue to face adversity both in the professional and informal sphere but I will not succumb to such; I will fight for a brighter tomorrow. In all, through this scholarship, I believe I will be able to fund my own education granting me additional opportunities to focus both on my social efforts and my vocational efforts towards attending medical school, so that I may be the voice to the deafened and a memento to the fallen.