Barbara A. Walker Memorial Scholarship

Growing up in the Mississippi Delta, I learned early that life doesn’t slow down just because things get hard. My story isn’t unique where I’m from, but it’s mine, and it’s shaped me in ways I’m still figuring out. Before my mom’s car accident on Mother’s Day, she walked to work every single day. It didn’t matter if it was raining, cold, or too hot she went anyway. She’d come home exhausted, but we never went without what we needed. She didn’t complain. She just kept going. After the accident, everything changed. My mom is now in a vegetative state, and my dad doesn’t work because he is disabled. We rely on food stamps and government assistance, and some months are harder than others. I’ve experienced what it feels like to not know if there will be enough food. Now, I volunteer at the Salvation Army. When I’m sorting donations or helping families, I don’t see strangers, I see people who are trying, just like my mom did. That experience changed how I see everything. It’s not just volunteering to me. It’s personal. It shaped how I want to live my life, and my goals. Living in poverty in the Mississippi Delta comes with challenges people don’t always see. It’s hard to focus on school when basic needs aren’t met. It’s hard when the people around you didn’t have access to opportunities either, so they have no advise to give you. But those challenges forced me to grow up quickly. They taught me how to keep going, even when things feel uncertain and hard. I want to do better not just for myself, but for my community. I've seen people stuck in cycles they didn't create, and I don't want that to be my life. I want to better for myself, my family and my community, and education is my way forward, but I'm not leaving to forget where I come from. I want to come back and help the people who need it the most. The Mississippi Delta made me who I am. It taught me to work hard, to understand people, and to want something better for myself and the people around me. I don't know exactly what that's gonna look like yet, but I know I'm gonna try. The people in my community deserve better, and I want to be someone who helps make that happen. If my story can inspire even one person, then it's worth it.

I like to say I was raised in the Mississippi Delta, which means I grew up with three things: mosquitoes the size of small birds, neighbors who knew my business before I did, and enough blues music to make even a happy person shed a dramatic tear out the window like they’re in a music video. Life there had its charms front porches, sweet tea strong enough to stop your heart, and elders who could turn a five-minute story into a full three hour event with bonus life lessons you didn’t ask for. But my childhood had some heavy moments, too. I lost my dad when I was just four. At that age, you don’t understand loss you just know something big is missing, like a puzzle piece that somehow makes the whole picture feel crooked. As I got older, I realized that losing him shaped my heart in quiet ways. It made me softer with people, quicker to notice who was hurting, and way more emotional than someone who claims they’re “fine” all the time. I am absolutely not always fine. Growing up in the Delta with that kind of loss felt like walking around with an invisible backpack full of feelings. Some days it was light; some days it felt like carrying a whole sack of Delta grown sweet potatoes. But it also made me strong, in the “I can survive almost anything” way, not strong in the “I can lift a tractor” way. Let’s be realistic and a little honest nobody’s picking up a tractor in that heat anyway. And that’s honestly a big part of why I want to become a social worker. When you’ve needed help and didn’t always know where to find it, you grow up wanting to be that person for someone else the one who listens, understands, and doesn’t judge you even if you’re a little chaotic. I want to be that steady hand, that encouraging voice, maybe even that person who brings snacks to appointments because emotional support snacks are real and sometimes absolutely necessary. My upbringing taught me resilience, compassion, and the ability to laugh even when life feels like a dramatic soap opera. The Mississippi Delta gave me roots, my childhood gave me purpose, and now I’m ready to take all of that every lesson, every struggle, every laugh and turn it into a career where I can make life just a little easier for someone else.