Recovery, to me, means freedom — the freedom to live, to grow, and to become the person I was always meant to be. I’ve been sober for over four years, and every single day of that journey has shaped who I am. Before sobriety, my life felt out of control, and higher education was out of reach. Recovery gave me back the ability to dream — and more importantly, the ability to act on those dreams. Through Alcoholics Anonymous, I found community, accountability, and purpose. Working the 12 steps, attending meetings, and serving others in recovery taught me how to show up — not just for myself, but for others. I’ve had the privilege of mentoring newcomers, speaking at meetings, and giving back to the very program that saved my life. Recovery isn’t just about abstaining from substances — it’s about becoming spiritually and emotionally whole. It’s about honesty, humility, and service. Without my sobriety, I wouldn’t be in college today, pursuing my dream of becoming a lawyer and working in international relations. Recovery gave me a second chance — and I plan to use it to make a real difference in the world.

My journey has been anything but traditional — but it’s that very path that has shaped who I am today and fueled my passion for justice, service, and leadership. I’m a nontraditional adult student, a former student-athlete, a person in recovery, and someone deeply committed to making an impact both in my local community and on a global scale. These experiences, though diverse, are all connected by one core belief: that we are called not just to improve our own lives, but to use our voice and our efforts to uplift others. After stepping away from college to support myself financially, I returned with a renewed sense of purpose. I worked hard in community college to reestablish my academic foundation, and I recently got accepted to my dream university. Along the way, I immersed myself in opportunities that allowed me to lead, serve, and grow. I served as Chair of Wellness in student government, where I focused on mental health programming and student advocacy — helping create safe spaces where all students, especially those who felt unseen or unsupported, could be heard and valued. As a Social Justice Scholar, I engaged in community-focused service projects designed to address inequity and injustice. One of the most transformative experiences I had was volunteering in Puerto Rico over spring break. We spent the week doing hard physical labor — clearing debris, rebuilding damaged areas, and listening to the stories of residents still recovering from natural disasters. It was exhausting, humbling, and incredibly meaningful. It reminded me that true service requires both compassion and action, and that change begins when we first listen. Back home, I’ve continued that work in my community. At La Casita, I worked with children from immigrant families, many of whom are navigating cultural and linguistic barriers in addition to the challenges of growing up. I saw how much it meant for these kids to have someone affirm their identity and invest in their potential. I’ve also volunteered through AA, mentoring others in recovery, and speaking about addiction, hope, and transformation. Giving back through service is not only a part of my recovery — it’s part of who I am. All of these experiences have solidified my long-term goal: to become a lawyer specializing in international relations, with a focus on policy, advocacy, and diplomacy. I want to work on the global stage to promote human rights, bridge cultural divides, and ensure that the needs of marginalized communities are not only heard but addressed through real, lasting change. I’ve seen how policy can either lift people up or leave them behind — and I want to be part of creating systems that prioritize equity, compassion, and justice across borders. This scholarship would make a significant difference in helping me reach those goals. As someone who has supported myself through school, financial support is not just helpful — it’s vital. This scholarship would ease the burden of tuition and living expenses, allowing me to fully focus on my studies, internships, and continued community involvement. It would give me the freedom to pursue opportunities that deepen my knowledge and experience, without constantly worrying about how to make ends meet. More than that, this scholarship would be a recognition of the work I’ve done — and a vote of confidence in the work I will continue to do. I am committed to using my education not just to build a career, but to build a life centered around service, justice, and global impact.

To ensure “everyone has a voice” means creating space for every individual to be heard, respected, and represented — especially those whose voices are often ignored or silenced. It’s about recognizing that everyone’s lived experience holds value and that meaningful change only happens when all perspectives are invited to the table. For me, this belief isn’t abstract — it’s something I carry into every leadership role, classroom, and community I’m a part of. This value took root in my life through my own experiences navigating recovery and being a nontraditional student. I’ve been sober for over four years now, and through Alcoholics Anonymous, I’ve learned firsthand how life-changing it is to be truly heard and supported. In AA, we don’t just talk — we listen, deeply. We make room for the pain, the growth, and the voices that society often overlooks. Volunteering through AA, mentoring others in recovery, and speaking at meetings has shown me how powerful it is when people feel safe to share their truth. That’s where healing begins — and it’s taught me to create those spaces in every aspect of my life. In college, I’ve carried that mindset into leadership. As Chair of Wellness in student government, I advocated for student mental health and created programming centered around emotional well-being, because I knew not every student felt seen or supported. I used my position to uplift concerns from students who didn’t always feel they had a seat at the table — particularly students struggling in silence. Whether it was through wellness initiatives, feedback sessions, or community conversations, my goal was to make every student feel like their voice mattered. I also served as a Social Justice Scholar, where I worked on projects focused on community impact and equity. During spring break, I traveled to Puerto Rico and volunteered in rebuilding efforts following natural disasters. The work was physically demanding — clearing debris, fixing structures — but it was incredibly rewarding. Even more impactful was hearing from local residents, learning their stories, and understanding what they needed most. We didn’t go in with assumptions. We listened first. That experience reinforced my belief that service should never be about speaking over others — it's about standing beside them and amplifying their needs. Locally, I volunteered at La Casita, working with children — many of whom came from immigrant families —helping with education and mentorship. Many of these kids were navigating two cultures, two languages, and often, a fear of not belonging. I made it a priority to affirm their identities and make sure they felt heard and supported in the classroom and beyond. I wanted them to know their stories mattered. Just like mine did. Every act of service I take on, whether it's in a recovery meeting, a classroom, or a community project, stems from one belief: everyone deserves to be heard. Ensuring everyone has a voice isn’t just about inclusion it’s about justice, empathy, and action. It means stepping back so others can step forward. It means using any platform I have to raise voices, not speak over them. I plan to continue this work as I pursue a career in law and international relations. My goal is to advocate for communities globally especially those historically excluded from decision-making. I’ve seen how transformative it is when people feel seen and heard. I want to take that into every courtroom, every policy room, and every space I enter. Because in the end, ensuring everyone has a voice means creating a world where no one has to fight to be heard because we’ve already made room for them.

From a young age, I poured my energy into track and field. Running gave me discipline, purpose, and a sense of identity. I carried that passion into college, but during my freshman year, I had to make a difficult decision: step away from athletics to focus on supporting myself. Life took a turn that many traditional students never face — I became financially independent and put school on hold to prioritize survival. But I never lost sight of my dreams. Today, I am a proud nontraditional adult student, recently admitted to my dream university (NYU) after years of hard work in community college. I refused to let setbacks define me. Instead, I used them as fuel. In community college, I became deeply involved in student life and advocacy. I served in student government as chair of wellness, where I helped amplify student voices, and was selected for a social justice scholarship program focused on creating real impact within our local communities and the Puerto Rican community where I spent a week volunteering over spring break. My commitment to service and equity grew even stronger during this time. One of the most meaningful parts of my journey has been advocating for Native American and black students — groups that are so often overlooked and underrepresented in higher education spaces. I helped initiate efforts to bring greater visibility to Indigenous and black voices at our school through programming, community events, and collaboration with faculty. This advocacy work helped me find my voice — not just as a student, but as a future leader. I plan to become a lawyer focusing on international relations. My vision extends beyond borders — I want to work with communities around the world to promote justice, equality, and human rights. This goal stems not only from my own experiences but also from a deep belief in the power of service and representation. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of higher education, but also empower me to keep showing up — for my community, for other nontraditional students, for Native populations, and for those whose voices are too often unheard. I’ve worked hard to reach this point, and I’m committed to using my education to create lasting impact far beyond the classroom. Lastly, I want to extend my condolences to you are your family, as well as inspiring others to turn grief into impact, and thank you for this opportunity.