Udonis Haslem Foundation BDJ40 Scholarship

For a long time, I became an expert at pretending. I smiled when I was supposed to. I spoke when I needed to. I got the grades. I showed up. On the outside, I looked fine. But inside, I was drowning in depression and tangled up in an eating disorder I didn’t yet have the words for. I was hurting, but I made sure no one could tell. Growing up as one of five children raised by a single mother, I didn’t have the option to fall apart. With my mom working late nights to keep our family afloat, I became the second parent. Doing hair, helping with homework, making dinner, and holding in my own tears so I could wipe someone else’s. From a young age, I was told I was “so mature for my age”, and for a while, I wore that as a badge of honor. But behind the maturity was exhaustion far too heavy for a child to carry. I used to think that if I just kept performing, kept being dependable and strong, then maybe the pain would fade into the background. But it didn’t. And because mental health was never something we talked about, I convinced myself that asking for help was weakness. Looking back, I know that part of me believed I was worthless. I couldn’t see a future. I couldn’t see myself as someone who mattered. But now, standing on the other side of it, I know better. I know that strength isn’t about carrying everything alone. It’s about the courage to heal and to let people in. This realization has shaped everything since. I’m pursuing a path in design and advertising because I want to change the industry with work that stops people in their tracks, but not just because it’s clever or beautiful. I want to create branding that makes people feel seen and heard. Work that affirms. Work that reminds the overlooked, the insecure, the exhausted, the struggling that they are not alone. But even deeper than that, this career will serve as the funding behind something bigger. My true purpose is philanthropy. I want to pour into the lives of the people I once saw in the mirror: the depressed girl, the fat girl, or the Black girl. I want to build programs for girls like her, especially those growing up in underprivileged communities like mine. I want to be the person I needed. This desire comes from what I’ve walked through, but also from what I’ve learned about who Jesus is to me. I used to seek love and validation in everything and everyone else. I thought I had to earn worth. But I’ve learned that my identity and worth comes from Him. And without Him, I am nothing. Sometimes, I still struggle with the instinct to suffer alone. That old voice still whispers that I have to keep it together, no matter what. But now I recognize it for what it is: fear disguised as strength. And when it shows up, I fight back with truth. I speak up. I ask for help. That’s how I know I’m healing. My journey with mental health didn’t break me, it built me. It made me more compassionate. It made me stronger. It made me a visionary. And now, I get to use all of it to build something beautiful. Not just for myself, but for others like me.

Lockdowns suck. Especially as a first-year middle schooler in Haiti. In 2019, after just two weeks back from summer break, I had to stay home due to a wave of lockdowns caused by gang violence and political instability around the country. While the U.S. grappled with the uncertainties of COVID-19, Haiti faced not only the pandemic but also unique challenges that profoundly shaped my worldview and character. Haiti, my homeland, is a place of breathtaking beauty, rich history, and vibrant culture. Growing up, I embraced its uniqueness, from traditions to music and undoubtedly, the food. However, the country’s struggles with government corruption, economic issues, and social instability were inescapable. Political unrest often led to violent disruptions known as “Lari Cho” or “the streets are hot”, a common expression exhibited by burning tires, barricaded roads, flying bullets, and chaos from one city to another. As stated by the country’s former Prime Minister Ariel Henry, “My country is going through a multidimensional crisis whose consequences threaten democracy and the very foundations of the rule of law”. The situation worsened in 2021 when President Jovenel was assassinated. I remember vividly my father waking me up with the tragic news. At just thirteen, the fear and uncertainty were overwhelming. There was no school, no social activities, and a pervasive sense of dread. I felt stagnant and apathetic but over time, I began sharing my feelings with my family. They created a safe space for me to express myself, which helped me cope. The cycle of school interruptions continued throughout middle school, by high school, I became more resilient and mature to confront social, academic, and mental challenges. I learned the value of community and empathy, as neighbors came together to support one another through those grim years. Despite the violence, injustice, and despair around me, I found strength in my faith. My belief in God became personal, providing me with hope and assurance. Isaiah 41:10 says, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” became my anchor. It was only by divine grace that my family and I remained safe. As Haiti’s instability persisted, my parents sought a safer environment and better education for me. They applied for a humanitarian program to bring me to the United States, and in July 2024, our request was granted. God blessed me with a family who welcomed me into their home. The transition was challenging, but my experiences had taught me how to adapt. To my surprise, my advisor informed me that I had earned enough credits to graduate a year early. This achievement reinforced my belief in hard work and perseverance. In the U.S., I’m back in school full-time in a safe learning environment, and I’ve found a church community where I connect with other believers and serve. These experiences have prepared me for the next chapter of my life: College. In conclusion, reflecting on my journey, I see how every moment has shaped me. From the fearful thirteen-year-old middle unsure of her future to the brave sixteen-year-old boarding a plane alone, hoping for a better life. Every experience has contributed to who I am today. College may seem daunting, but I’m excited for it and I welcome it. The God who protected me in the past will guide my steps forward. My family, both far and near, will continue to support me, and the resilience I’ve gained as a Haitian will help me face any challenges that may come.

As a young girl I experienced depression. Just to give a glimpse of my early childhood, I am the youngest of six with a six year age gap and my mother worked long hours in corrections. I depended on social media as my support system in middle school, this path led me to being Baker acted. To be there for me, my mom changed career and became a school teacher. We also took family therapy. This was my turning point. My family bond became stronger. I became stronger. My journey through high school as Miss Freshman, Class Vice President my Sophomore year, Class President my Junior-Senior year, Lead mentee of Big Brothers Big Sisters, Mentoring Tomorrow Leaders, Group Commander of AFJROTC (Air Force Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps) has been nothing short of my transformation. Stepping into these leadership role wasn't just about learning the ins and outs of military protocol; it was about breaking barriers, challenging stereotypes, and finding my own voice in a world where representation matters. From day one high school provided me with a sense of belonging and purpose. As I immersed myself in lead positions , I quickly realized the importance of mentorship and leadership. Despite initial doubts and stereotypes, I found myself excelling in leadership positions, mentoring my peers, and leading by example both throughout the school and my community. Being the mentor and leader that I am now allowed me to develop essential skills such as discipline, teamwork, and resilience. I learned the value of perseverance and dedication, traits that would later prove invaluable as I navigated through the decision-making process for my future career. Throughout high school, my involvement in AFJROTC opened my eyes to the endless possibilities within the military. As a young African American girl, I saw firsthand the diversity and inclusivity within military, challenging preconceived notions about who belongs in the military and what leadership looks like. My experiences as a mentor and leader in high school and my community laid the foundation for my decision to pursue a career in the Air Force as a 1st Sergeant. The sense of purpose, camaraderie, and dedication instilled in me during my time in high school inspired me to continue serving my country in a more profound capacity. As a 1st Sergeant, I aspire to continue breaking down barriers and paving the way for generations. I have learned that leadership knows no bounds, and with determination and perseverance, I can achieve anything I set my mind to. Through mentorship, leadership, and a commitment to breaking down barriers, I am ready to embark on this journey and make a difference in the world. Winning this scholarship would be instrumental in helping me attain my goals of completing my Masters degree and enlisting in the Air Force. However, financing a college education can be a significant challenge, especially considering the costs associated with tuition, textbooks, housing, and other expenses. Receiving this scholarship would alleviate some of the financial burdens associated with attending college, allowing me to focus more on my studies and extracurricular activities. Whether it's through leadership opportunities, community service projects, or specialized training programs, these experiences would further prepare me for the challenges and responsibilities of serving in the military. Overall, it would be a crucial stepping stone towards realizing my aspirations and making a meaningful contribution to both my country and my community.

Thousands of LGBTQ+ deaths are announced each year; Transgender male bullied into suicide, Queer student beaten to death, Non-Binary person beaten for using the wrong bathroom, we’ve all seen the news and read the stories of beautiful souls being deprived of life. As a transgender hispanic student I’ve seen it face to face. Discriminated for not speaking English, no access to gender neutral bathrooms and having to deal with the stares in my “biological sex bathroom”, the cyber bullying being called a “shemale”. It’s evident as members of the community we are prone to bullying and developing mental health disorders. As a first hand witness of these events I have decided to major in Psychology. Being a psychologist will allow me to reach out and provide support to LGBTQ+ members but most importantly, LGBTQ+ youth. I will become a sanctuary to these amazing individuals. I hope to be able to lower suicide rates in any way possible. I will reduce cultural stigmas between the LGBTQ+ and the hispanic community informing every parent of the situation and the importance of mental health for not just the LGBTQ+ but for anyone. Being the GSA president at my school has taught me leadership, advocacy, but most importantly how to become a safe space for younger generations. Personally, I became a big brother to many of the members, aiding them in mental health resources and a person to talk to when no one else would listen. I can only hope to do this but impact thousands rather than just a club and moving percentage rates. For me it goes further than just the community, I plan to travel to my home country, Mexico, providing the same support to my people. Stigma is a real issue and will never be resolved unless confronted. I have one more reason for my career goals, a very personal reason. August 22nd 2022 my only sibling Ruben Salvador Cesena, had been killed. His two children aged 8 and 3 at the time hugged his casket at his funeral in Mexico. My family was distraught watching it over zoom because we couldn’t afford to travel to Mexico at the time. My father and I were destroyed, my mother couldn't bare to watch her son be buried through a screen. We still don’t know why they killed him, he talked to us every week, his wife said he was doing good. This is one of my biggest motivators to become a psychologist to help people like my brother’s murderer who don’t have access to resources. I want to find the reasoning that drives them to a point of ending another person's life. People who believe they can’t talk to someone to be able to get help because stigma says men can’t be emotional and mental health isn’t real. But we all know, it's a real issue we can only hope to resolve. This is my purpose in my community.