Literacy has completely altered the course of my life. To put it plainly, I’ve always had an old soul. My childhood was turbulent, and I wasn’t very good at being a kid. I worried too much about things that shouldn’t have been on my mind at that age, and that constant anxiety made it hard for me to connect with other kids. I felt different, out of place. But stories gave me something to hold onto. They grounded me, gave me a way to connect to others, and offered me the sense of escape and understanding I desperately needed. Books soothed my restless mind, challenged my imagination, and helped me see that the struggles I faced weren’t mine alone—but simply the beginning of a fantastic journey. Picture books, in particular, shaped how I saw myself and my place in the world. Growing up, I was one of only a handful of BIPOC students in my public school. Even now, as an adult, I’ve only ever had maybe three teachers who were Latine like me. Representation back then was rare, and when it showed up, it wasn’t always positive. That lack of visibility made me feel even more alone. I started to believe that my differences—my curly dark hair, my body, my skin—were signs of something I inherited, something that put me at a disadvantage from the start. Diversity in media has improved a lot since then, but in the early 2000s, it wasn’t like that. Back then, picture books and illustrations were some of the only places I learned about my culture and myself. I remember reading "Roberto Clemente: Pride of the Pittsburgh Pirates" by Jonah Winter when I was seven. I learned about how Clemente listened to Cubs games on the radio in Puerto Rico and how his humanitarian work led to his tragic death. I was in awe of his story, and it felt familiar—like it belonged to my family, too. When I shared it with my mom and grandparents, I discovered that my mom went to Roberto Clemente High School in Chicago. It felt like something clicked into place, like a bridge had been built between me and a part of myself I didn’t fully know. There were other books too—"The House on Mango Street" by Sandra Cisneros and "Baseball in April" by Gary Soto. Those stories stuck with me because they reflected my cultural identity in ways I rarely saw growing up. The illustrations made those stories feel real and alive to me. I loved how tangible they were, how I could almost reach out and touch the details of the pictures. That love for visual storytelling has stayed with me. I’ve always wanted to be an illustrator—to tell stories through art in a way that speaks to people like those books spoke to me. My dream is to publish my own picture book by the time I’m twenty-five. I want to create a story that honors my heritage as an Indigenous Latina and inspires someone else to see themselves and their story in a new light. If I can make just one person feel the way I did when I first saw myself in a book, I’ll know I’ve done something meaningful. This award would help me reach that goal by covering my tuition and supplies as I study Illustration at Phoenix College. It would allow me to keep growing as an artist and turn my dream into something real.

My passion for art and storytelling has always driven me to create illustrations that capture the rich cultural histories of people and communities. Growing up as an Indigenous Latine woman, I have seen the power of stories in preserving cultural heritage, but I have also observed the barriers that prevent under-resourced communities from accessing opportunities in the visual arts. These experiences inspire my goal to give back to youth by using my skills in art and anthropology to foster cultural pride and understanding. My family has faced many challenges, including financial hardship. Both of my parents were incarcerated while I was in high school and preparing for college, forcing me to put my education on hold as my family struggled to support themselves. During this time, we all chipped in to help one another. Though I dreamed of attending art school, I knew it was unrealistic at that time. However, starting at community college has allowed me to rebuild my confidence and access fundamental art education in a more accessible way. I believe art is essential for everyone, but especially for those who are struggling. Art offers a means of expression, a way to honor stories, and a way to envision a limitless future. I incorporate this theme of accessible expression with the kids I interact with. I plan to give back to under-resourced communities by creating art that tells the stories of diverse cultures while empowering youth to see themselves in those stories. One of my long-term goals is to create a children's book or comic that reflects the diversity of our world, making cultural narratives accessible to younger generations. By focusing on underrepresented voices, I hope to inspire children from marginalized backgrounds to take pride in their heritage. In addition to creating accessible art, I want to preserve cultural heritage through archiving and education. I aspire to become an archivist, preserving and sharing the histories of diverse communities. In this role, I hope to empower young people to understand the importance of their own history, instilling pride and purpose. My educational journey, which includes plans to attend the University of Arizona to study both art and anthropology, will equip me with the skills and knowledge to make these dreams a reality. I am committed to giving back to under-resourced communities, creating pathways for youth to access the visual arts and connect with their cultural stories. However, achieving these goals comes with financial challenges. While I am grateful for the financial aid that covers my tuition, I still face significant needs for school supplies and living costs. As a tutor, I find fulfillment in helping students, but my income is seasonal and unpredictable. Additionally, I assist my sister with her mortgage, further stretching my limited finances. Despite relying on food stamps and Medicaid, I continue to struggle to make ends meet while focusing on my education. Additional financial support would allow me to concentrate on my studies and future projects without the constant worry of covering living expenses. This support would also enable me to save for future educational pursuits, ensuring I can continue my work in the visual arts without interruption. By alleviating this financial burden, I will be able to focus on giving back to under-resourced communities through my work in art and anthropology. This scholarship would empower me to fulfill my goal of using art to inspire and uplift youth, helping them connect with their heritage and discover their potential. Through my work, I hope to break down barriers that limit access to the visual arts and provide mentorship for marginalized youth.