I didn’t grow up around engineers, coders, or computer scientists. I grew up as the oldest sibling in an Afro-Latino household, helping raise my siblings while translating bills, school emails, and tax forms for my parents. We didn't talk about artificial intelligence at the dinner table, we talked about the future, budgeting and business. But even without knowing the terms, I was living the impact of technology every day: the broken Wi-Fi, the outdated devices at my public high school, and the algorithmic gaps that made me foreign to digital systems. I didn’t just want to understand AI, I needed to. My first hands-on experience with AI didn’t come with any guidance. It came from stubbornness, late-night YouTube rabbit holes, and online courses I pieced together during the pandemic. I taught myself the basics of machine learning using Google Colab, building small models that could predict user behavior based on data inputs. One of my favorite mini projects was a text classifier that was trained to identify whether writing samples reflected hope, frustration, or confusion , an emotional tracker I thought could help better support people who are struggling. This fall, I’ll be entering Syracuse University’s School of Information Studies to major in Innovation, Society, and Technology. I plan focus is building equitable tech, especially AI systems that center marginalized communities rather than overlook them. I’m especially passionate about ethical AI design and representation in training data, I want to help change the fact that facial recognition fails on darker skin tones. I want to challenge predictive policing models that target neighborhoods like mine. And I want to create tools that empower people, not monitor or exploit them. My long-term goal is to launch a tech nonprofit that combines AI, digital literacy, and community organizing. Imagine a future where AI tools can translate legal documents in plain language, predict school dropout risks before they happen, or help low-income families access benefits they didn’t even know existed. That’s the kind of impact I want to make. Getting here hasn’t been easy. I’ve had to work twice as hard with half the resources. I’ve balanced school with caregiving. I’ve faced rejection, doubt, and burnout. But every challenge has only strengthened my commitment. I don’t see AI as something cold or mechanical. I see it as a tool one that, in the right hands, can transform lives. I plan to be one of those hands. At Syracuse, I’ll deepen my technical knowledge, expand my network, and work with mentors who understand both the science and the soul behind technology. This isn’t just a career path for me. It’s a calling. AI changed what I believed was possible. Now I’m going to change what AI can do and who it can do it for.

I come from a home full of noise, love, and hustle. A family of six, making room for each other in ways the world doesn’t always make room for us. I’m a 17-year-old Afro-Latina girl, the oldest daughter of hardworking parents who immigrated to the U.S. with nothing but grit and hope. Growing up in a predominantly white, conservative town, I’ve often felt like I existed in two worlds, one where I had to work twice as hard to be taken seriously, and another where I was expected to carry more responsibility than most kids my age. Being the oldest meant I learned early how to lead, support, and adapt. I’ve been a second mom to my siblings, a translator for my parents, and the first in my family to navigate college admissions, standardized tests, and financial aid forms. I’ve also been the family’s unofficial tech support. When schools moved online during the pandemic and my siblings were struggling with virtual classes, I taught myself how to boost our Wi-Fi, navigate learning platforms, and organize their schedules. That’s when I realized how powerful technology can be, when it works for the people who need it most. That experience sparked my passion for technology and equity. It made me realize that access to the digital world is not a luxury, it’s a necessity. I want to study Information Technology and focus on human-centered design, accessibility, and digital justice. At Syracuse University’s iSchool, I plan to use my education to build platforms that are inclusive, affordable, and designed with communities like mine in mind. One day, I hope to create my own tech company focused on digital empowerment for underserved populations—offering access, mentorship, and tools that help people not just survive, but thrive in a digital society. But tech isn’t my only passion. I’ve always been drawn to storytelling, especially through poetry and spoken word. Writing has given me a voice. It helped me process identity, culture, and pain. Over the years, I’ve performed at open mics and competed in poetry slams. Whether I’m designing a tech solution or writing a poem, I’m always trying to do the same thing: make space for people to be seen and heard. My aspirations aren’t about titles or prestige. They’re about impact. I want to be the person who makes someone else feel like they belong in tech, in higher education, in leadership. I want to mentor girls of color in STEM, create tools that center empathy and inclusion, and push back against systems that were never built with us in mind. The road hasn’t been easy. I’ve faced self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and financial stress. I’ve juggled jobs, cared for my siblings, and taught myself how to navigate systems no one in my family understood. But those struggles have shaped my strength, my drive, and my deep commitment to using my experiences to uplift others. I’m still growing, still learning, still finding my voice. But what I know for sure is this: I carry the hopes of my family and the resilience of my roots. And I’m going to use both to build something that lasts, not just for me, but for everyone who’s ever been told they don’t belong.

The area of technology I want to pursue is user-centered design and digital equity, specifically, building platforms and tools that serve marginalized communities and make tech more inclusive. My interest was sparked during the COVID-19 pandemic when my younger siblings transitioned to online learning. Our internet was unreliable, and my parents didn’t know how to navigate the digital systems their schools used. I became the one to troubleshoot, teach, and translate the tech world for my family. That moment made me realize how critical it is to create systems that work for everyone, especially those who are often left behind. It showed me that technology is not just about hardware or code, it’s about people, and the barriers that keep them from fully participating in the digital world. Outside of tech, another passion of mine is storytelling through poetry. I discovered it in middle school, during a unit on slam poetry. For the first time, I saw how words could move people, disrupt silence, and reclaim identity. As an Afro-Latina girl growing up in a mostly white, conservative town, I often felt invisible or misunderstood. Poetry gave me a way to speak truth and be heard. Over time, it became not just a creative outlet, but a form of healing and resistance. If time were no object, I would dedicate myself to learning music production. I’ve always admired how sound can evoke emotion and connection across barriers of language and culture. I would love to explore how to combine technology, sound, and storytelling to build immersive experiences, especially ones that uplift the voices of the people. I see my future at the intersection of creativity, technology, and community. I want to design systems that don’t just work, but belong to the people using them. Whether I’m coding a platform or writing a poem, my goal is the same: to create space, spark change, and leave people feeling more seen, heard, and empowered than before.

It started with a blinking cursor and a spinning Wi-Fi wheel. My younger siblings were in virtual school during the pandemic, and nothing was working. The internet kept cutting out, their school platforms were glitching, and my parents, hardworking immigrants who didn’t grow up with technology—had no idea how to fix it. That moment could have been another dead end. But instead, it sparked the beginning of something much bigger for me. As a 17-year-old Afro-Latina girl growing up in a household of six, I’ve often had to step up in ways that stretched me. I wasn’t just a big sister; I became the family’s unofficial tech support. I taught myself how to boost our Wi-Fi signal with a secondhand router, learned how to navigate online school portals, and helped my siblings organize their assignments so they wouldn’t fall behind. In doing so, I realized technology had the power to hold entire families together when everything else was falling apart. That experience didn’t just spark my interest in tech, it gave me a mission. I saw how digital inequality can widen opportunity gaps, especially for families like mine who are already fighting so many battles. I knew then that I didn’t just want to use technology. I wanted to transform it into something more human, more equitable, and more accessible. This fall, I’ll be studying Innovation, Society, and Technology at Syracuse University’s iSchool. My long-term goal is to create a socially-driven tech company that provides community-based digital literacy programs, access to affordable devices, and platforms that amplify the people's voices. I believe technology should work for everyone, not just those who can afford the newest devices or speak the language of tech fluently. I want to build systems that don’t just assume access and ability, but create it. The journey hasn’t been easy. I come from a place where tech clubs are non-existent, where advanced STEM opportunities were limited, and where I often felt out of place in academic spaces that weren’t designed for someone like me. I couldn’t afford private SAT tutors or coding camps. But what I lacked in resources, I made up for in persistence. I used free online classes to teach myself what ever I needed to study. I stayed up late researching and discovering inclusive tech development. And I applied to scholarships and programs not just for myself, but for the future I know I’m building. What excites me most about tech is that it never stands still. It evolves. And right now, the field is finally starting to ask the questions that matter most: Who is being left behind? Who gets to lead innovation? Who benefits, and who doesn’t? I want to be one of the voices answering those questions, not just in theory, but in practice. My dream isn’t just to be in tech. It’s to change the way tech shows up in people’s lives. I want to lead with empathy, build with purpose, and make sure that every time I create something, it opens a door for someone else. That first blinking cursor showed me that technology, when placed in the right hands, can be a lifeline. I plan to be one of those hands.

1. As a 17-year-old Afro-Latina from a family of six, I’ve grown up balancing multiple identities in a world that didn’t always recognize or reflect me. Living in a predominantly white, conservative community, I’ve often been one of the only faces like mine in advanced classes, leadership groups, or STEM spaces. That loneliness could have silenced me but instead, it lit a fire. I’ve learned to see being different as a source of strength and a call to action. What motivates me is the dream to create a future where others like me don’t have to fight just to be seen. If I could do anything with my life, I’d build a tech organization that provides digital access, mentorship, and inclusive tech education for underrepresented youth, especially girls of color. I want to create spaces where we don’t just participate in innovation, but lead it. I dream of leading tech projects that put equity first, projects that ask not just what we can build, but who we’re building for. Whether I’m designing new and ethical tech tools, launching workshops in underserved schools and spaces, or building platforms that help to amplify marginalized voices, I want my life to be about using innovation for justice in Tech. I know I’m meant to be in this space. I know what it’s like to go without. I also know how much potential lies in students like me, if we’re given even a fraction of the access and belief that others take for granted. 2. What excites me most about STEM is its potential to turn bold ideas into real-world impact, especially through information technology. IT isn’t just about data and devices; it’s about people. It’s about the systems that shape how we connect, learn, earn, and even survive. I recognize everyday the ways tech can uplift multiple lives, but I’m also deeply aware of how it can leave entire communities behind. That’s why I chose to study Innovation, Society, and Technology at the Syracuse iSchool. I want to use tech to close the gaps I’ve lived through: gaps in access, representation, and opportunity. Growing up without reliable internet at times, watching my parents struggle with digital forms, and seeing brilliant people and peers being held back by a lack of resources made me realize that access to information is not equal. I want to change that. A job in IT gives me the tools to make this vision real. Whether I’m developing inclusive platforms, creating digital literacy programs for families who need it, or fighting algorithmic bias, I plan to center people like me in the future of technology. Long term, I want to build a nonprofit that mentors and trains marginalized youth in STEM fields, giving them the tools to break cycles of poverty and exclusion. My goal isn’t just to work in tech, I want to rebuild it from the inside out, with equality as the foundation. That’s the kind of impact I live for. And that’s why this opportunity would mean the world to me. 3. The greatest challenge I’ve faced has been navigating the college admissions process as a first-generation student in a low-income household, while living in a high-pressure, predominantly white community where most students had resources available to them. As the oldest of four, I took on responsibilities early—caring for siblings, work, managing chores, and often helping translate forms or navigate digital platforms family members weren’t familiar with. All while trying to stay on top of AP classes and dream of a future that felt just out of reach. I watched classmates hire private SAT tutors, pay for application consultants, and tour colleges across the country. Meanwhile, I used free online test prep, typed essays late into the night after making dinner, and applied for fee waivers for every application. There were moments I doubted if I even belonged in those spaces, but I pushed through, fueled by my purpose. What got me through was my belief in something bigger: that my education isn’t just for me. It’s for my family, my culture, and every girl who’s ever felt like she had to work twice as hard to get half as far. I leaned on teachers, mentors, and my own determination to overcome each obstacle. That challenge taught me how to advocate for myself, to work resourcefully, and to lead with resilience. More than anything, it taught me that I don’t need to come from privilege to create change, I just need the chance. This scholarship would help give me that chance.

The first time I realized I was different, I was in second grade, correcting my teacher on how to pronounce my full name while the rest of the class giggled. Now, as a 17-year-old Afro-Latina girl growing up in a tightly wound, mostly white suburb, moments like that became routine. I learned to shrink parts of myself to fit into classrooms that were never built with girls like me in mind. But I also learned to resist. That resistance took shape in the form of curiosity: an intense desire to understand how systems work, how technology can empower, and how innovation could become a tool for justice. This fall, I will be attending Syracuse University’s School of Information Studies (iSchool) to major in Innovation, Society, and Technology. For me, STEM is not just about mastering machines or algorithms, it’s about using those tools to amplify voices, design for fairness and create a world that reflects the full spectrum of human experience. But getting to this point wasn’t simple or smooth. Coming from a family of six, where everyone has a job, the financial weight of pursuing higher education in STEM has been heavy. Between SAT registration fees, college application costs, AP exam payments, and the pressure to have the “right” devices or prep resources, I often felt like I was sprinting in a race with one shoe missing. I couldn’t afford expensive online courses, so I taught myself, borrowing library books, using free trials, and making study guides after putting my younger siblings to bed. Despite these obstacles, I stayed grounded in my vision: to be a changemaker in the tech space. This scholarship would relieve a burden on my family and allow me to fully embrace the opportunities Syracuse offers. It would give me room to focus, not on how to pay for the next semester or whether I can afford required software, but on building my skills, engaging in research, and creating real-world solutions. At Syracuse, I hope to explore how in technologies can help close racial, gender, and class gaps. My long-term goal is to create a program that provides mentorship and digital resources to underrepresented youth, especially young women of color who often don’t see themselves in STEM. I want to go back to communities like mine and say, “You don’t have to change who you are to succeed in this space. You belong here.” This scholarship isn’t just financial support, it’s a vote of confidence. It tells me that my story matters and that the future I’m working toward is worth investing in. With your support, I’ll continue to turn barriers into blueprints. For myself, for my community, and for every young girl who’s ever been told her name is too hard to say.