Bick Mile Square Scholarship

Hoboken has always felt familiar to me. Even though I grew up in Bayonne, I spent so much time in Hoboken that it never felt separate. My mom worked there too, so I was always tagging along. Some of my earliest memories are simple ones like running around Pier A Park, sitting by the water at Sinatra Park, or walking down Washington Street after a doctor’s appointment. Those little routines made the city feel like part of my everyday life. Growing up between the two towns, I started paying attention to the way people treated each other. Someone was always checking on a neighbor, helping a mom lift a stroller onto the bus, holding a door, or sharing snacks at the playground. No one acted like they were doing anything special. It was just how people were. Those moments stuck with me. They taught me to pay closer attention to people because you never really know what someone is going through. That became clearer once my own struggles started. When I was little, I was diagnosed with PANDAS, a rare autoimmune condition that affects your brain after infections like strep. I went from being a typical kid to someone who struggled with anxiety, ocd, tics, and sensory issues practically overnight. On the outside I looked fine, but inside I felt nothing like myself. Some mornings I woke up already exhausted. Headaches, joint pain, and flare ups made me miss activities I cared about, and every time it happened, I felt like I was falling behind my friends. Even after treatment, things didn’t go back to normal right away. It took a long time to find my footing again. But the quiet examples of kindness I grew up seeing pushed me to keep trying. I joined theater even though I was nervous. I joined cheer even when I wasn’t sure I could keep up. I sang at community events and volunteered at senior centers and summer camps. Helping my younger brother, who has special needs, changed me the most. He doesn’t need you only when you feel strong. He needs you every day. That taught me patience and what it really means to show up for someone. All of that is why I want to become a nurse. I know what it feels like to be confused by your own body or overwhelmed by emotions you can’t explain. I also know what a difference it makes when someone responds with patience instead of frustration. My dream is to be that kind of support for someone else, especially kids who feel the way I once did. For my family, this scholarship would ease a huge financial burden. My parents work hard, but college is expensive. Having this support would let me focus on learning without constantly worrying about money. Growing up near Hoboken taught me to care, to notice people, and to show up. I want to bring that same mindset into nursing and help people feel safe, understood, and never alone.

They say that words can build you up or break you down. I didn't know how true that was until a teacher told me, "You have no brain." In that instance, I felt that everything that I had believed about myself: my intelligence, potential, and my future; was slipping away. I didn't let it. I fought back to reclaim my confidence. Growing up in Newark, just across the river from Hoboken, I’ve always felt the pulse of resilience in my community. As a black girl with a Caribbean background from Newark, NJ, I was raised to believe in the power of education. My family taught me that knowledge is sacred, and from a young age, I was always told I was smart. Teachers and relatives would say, “She’s going places.” So when I enrolled in a dual enrollment college course at Donald Payne Tech, I saw it as a chance to prove myself. However, after getting an answer wrong, the teacher, a woman, looked at me and said, “You have no brain.” I froze. That moment shattered my self-esteem and made me question everything I thought I knew about myself. Still, I refused to let that be the end of my story. I went home and made a decision: I was going to prove her wrong, and not just to her, but to myself. I stayed up past my bedtime night after night, studying harder than I ever had. No study groups, no shortcuts. Just me, my notes, and a fire in my chest. By the end of the semester, I earned an A in her class. That experience changed me. It reminded me that my intelligence isn’t defined by one mistake or one person’s opinion. I saw in myself a quiet power and a determination rooted in my culture, my city, and my story. Newark taught me that talent is often overlooked and that you have to fight to be seen. Since then, I’ve leaned into leadership by giving back to my community in meaningful ways. I’ve volunteered at food kitchens, helped feed the homeless, and am currently working with a team to decorate a local middle school for its Fall Festival. These experiences have taught me that leadership isn’t just about speaking up; it’s about showing up. Whether I’m serving meals or helping create joyful spaces for younger students, I lead with empathy, pride, and a deep commitment to uplifting others. This scholarship would help me continue that journey. I plan to major in Business Analytics and join the honors college at a university that aligns with my goals. Financial support would allow me to focus on my studies, pursue internships, and become a business analyst who uses data to create fair, inclusive solutions for communities like mine. That teacher tried to take my crown. Instead, she helped me polish it. And now, I wear it with pride, not just for me, but for every girl who’s ever been told she wasn’t enough.

Growing up in the inner city was quite an experience for me. I grew up in Jersey City, New Jersey. I can truly say my mom and grandparents did a great job of sheltering me from the chaos of the city because I didn’t know the area was considered “not so great” because it was my home. As a kid I thought my city was normal. My mom and grandmom went to work early, so I was left with my Pop Pop. Before school my Pop Pop would sweep in front of his front door. What I learned later was he had to sweep every day because every night someone would throw garbage in front of the door. He would walk me to and from school every day. Everyday we would pass people on the streets, and we would always say hello. And like clockwork the same people were there the next day. What I didn’t know was some of those people were homeless, or just hanging out because they had nothing else to do. On the weekends my Pop Pop and I would take field trips on the bus to the park. I always wondered why we couldn’t just go to the park that was closest to the house. He told me the park we were going to was special. Once I got to middle school, I realized older kids and adults hung out at the closer park partaking in activities that were on the illegal side of nature and my Pop Pop was sheltering me from that. When I meet people and tell them I am from Jersey City immediately they think I should talk a certain way, that I am uneducated or that I am affiliated with certain groups of people. But guess what? In second grade my teacher noticed I was an exceptional student and advised my mom to have me tested for the HOPE program and I passed. Third grade to fifth grade I was a part of the HOPE gifted and talented program. In 6th grade I was accepted into Academy 1 Middle school which is in the top 5% of New Jersey. Now I will be graduating from McNair High School which is the #1 high school in Jersey City and the #5 school in the state of New Jersey. So, despite what some may think, excellent kids do evolve from Jersey City. Living in the inner city made me appreciate the little things. Never let your current circumstances stop you from achieving a better circumstance. Despite my surroundings I made the most of my situation. If someone had told me, I was underprivileged I would have probably laughed because to me I felt rich. Always believe in yourself because I did. Even if you don’t see good in your surroundings at the time, know that better is out there and you can achieve it.

I was born in Hoboken, a city that has always felt like home, even though my family couldn’t afford to stay there. Growing up nearby, in an overpopulated town called Union City, I saw both sides of the city: the charm and opportunity, and the quiet sacrifices it took for my parents, especially my mom, to keep us close to it. Hoboken was where my mom worked long hours, as a factory worker, and as an iron presser in a dry cleaner, and now as a housekeeper for several families. She’s one of the hardest-working people I know; strong, independent, and endlessly selfless. As a kid, I used to feel embarrassed telling people what my mom did for work. Everyone else’s parents had “business” jobs or worked in offices, and it made me look and feel little compared to everyone else. But now that I’m older, I see how much strength it takes to do what she does. My mom’s jobs gave us stability, and her sacrifices taught me what true independence looks like, and to me, that moral is worth more than money will ever be. When my brother and I begged to join Taekwondo, my mom never told us no, even though she knew the classes were expensive. She worked extra hours and shifts to make it possible. Thanks to her hard work, I studied for nine years, and my Taekwondo center became my second home. It taught me perseverance, discipline, and how to lead with compassion, skills I now use every day when I teach and guide my younger students. Unfortunately, I recently decided to quit so I could help with bills. I now work part-time at a dental office, and I don’t earn a lot, but it's everything to me because it allows me to ease her load even a little. Every step I take now is driven by gratitude for her sacrifices. My dream is to become a neonatologist, helping newborns who need the same kind of care and dedication my mother gave me all my life. I want to make her proud, not just by earning a degree, but by building a career that reflects her strength and compassion. This scholarship would mean more than financial help; it would be a reminder that everything my mom worked for wasn’t in vain. It would allow me to continue my education without adding any more financial burden to her stress, and bring me closer to becoming the doctor I’ve always dreamed of being. I may not have grown up in Hoboken, but the lessons born there, hard work, humility, and courage, are what shaped me into who I am today.

I have called Hoboken my home for all seventeen years of my life. I have grown up in a very diverse community with people from all backgrounds. Hoboken High school is considered decently small compared to a lot of schools in the area which has led me to become very close with most of the student body. Due to its size, everyone knows one another, and that taught me the value of connection early on.. I often try to talk to people from different friend groups, countries, and schools since I think just having a simple conversation with someone can brighten up someone’s day or make them feel more included. While I am grateful for the community that I grew up in, it didn’t come without its challenges. As a mixed race individual with a white father and a black mother, I often felt stuck in the middle between identities. Certain individuals that I met from either race made me feel excluded, whether it was getting dirty looks from people at events that mostly had white people in them, or people making assumptions about my intelligence. Even when I would go to events that had a majority of black individuals, the very group of people that many categorized me with, I was often considered “too white” just because of small things like the way that I talk or the fact that I don’t often listen to rap music. People expected me to be a certain way or fit into a stereotype, often making me feel like I did not belong. These experiences made me feel isolated, especially as someone who was naturally quiet and hesitant to stand up for myself. For a long time, I internalized these feelings. It was during the isolation of COVID that I realized that I wanted to talk to people and build relationships with them; I no longer wanted to be a shy and quiet person. When the COVID-19 quarantines ended, I stopped worrying about being “too white” or “not black enough”; I was going to just be myself. I chose instead to embrace every part of my identity and step outside my comfort zone. I became a happier and more confident person. I started to do things that I had never done before. I created a chess club in my school. I interned at JPMorgan Chase. I even performed for my school as the Redwing, our school mascot. These all helped me create my own identity that was not restricted by a black and white world. The Bick Mile Square Scholarship would allow me to continue this growth. As I move on to college, financial support would allow me to pursue my dreams, easing the stress of having to pay for tuition and other expenses. My goal is to pursue International Business or Finance, where I can use my diverse background to understand others, making a more welcoming environment for clients and coworkers.