I am in my 7th year working on my degree-they say slow and steady wins the race, right? I'm not a typical college student, and as a parent and someone who has to support a family, I went very part-time for my first few years before I surprised myself by getting into my dream school. For the first time, I felt my lofty dreams might actually be attainable and so I quit my management job and decided my education deserved my full attention, even if that meant some sacrifices had to be made; but even an eviction and some bad marks on my credit report seem more than worth it in the long run if I'm able to leave the life I've known as a child of poverty in the rearview. Ever since I was very young, my mom instilled the belief that education was essential for obtaining a life that was easier than the one she had. She was a single mom, a pre-school teacher, and we were very poor-although she miraculously always made sure I never had to go without. She also constantly reminded me how capable I was of achieving whatever it was that I wanted to do, and so thanks to her I've pushed through these past 7 years; every time I felt my load was getting to be too much to carry, her reassuring words echo through my mind-and boy do I dream of a life without the burden that comes with financial woes. I want to give my son a life without the worries I've had, and although I have very few complaints about my childhood, I want him to have more, and I want to be present in his life as much as possible-not working nights and weekends. Equally as important as the financial piece is the hope everyone has, of having a job that enhances my life, not one that I grit my teeth and bear through every day. I want to spend my life doing something that has meaning, more meaning than I ever found working in retail management or the service industry. I want to feel passionate about what I spend my time doing, something that I love so much it doesn't feel like work. I've always been very passionate about politics, my grandfather was a fierce anti-war and civil rights activist. He was a professor, and he started the first black studies program in the country. He also published a black panther newspaper and his home served as a black panther safe house back in the late '60s and early 70's. I've always felt so proud to be his granddaughter, and I inherited his interest in politics and the fight for social justice. I hope one day I can follow in his footsteps, and he has some big shoes to fill. My ultimate goal is to become a state representative, but I would be more than thrilled to do anything in the legislative or political field that has some hand in helping those like me, the people in our country who just need a little bit of a hand up to reach their goals and prosper.

I come from a pretty small family, and the limited family I did have wasn’t close, either physically or emotionally. So I learned early on that it takes a village to raise s family, and help isn’t usually out of reach you just gotta know where to look for it. We lived by the university so we were surrounded by college students, 2 brothers who lived Nextdoor must’ve caught onto the fact that my mom could use a hand and before long, I was at their place more than my own. 22 years later and we’re still close, I’m closer to them than anyone in my family outside of my mom. Doing what you can to help a neighbor-that’s what community means to me. It can be as small as giving a homeless man a dollar whenever you see him, or picking up litter instead of walking past it. Or it can be as large as babysitting regularly for a struggling single mom, volunteering at the animal shelter weekly or participating in city council meetings. If everyone gives a little bit of effort, that quickly adds up. Even the smallest bit of help could be just what someone needs to make it through a tough time. Even if you can’t fix everyone’s problems, every gesture no matter how small is appreciated. The world can be tough and lonely, and sometimes you just need to be acknowledged you so you don’t feel alone. Growing up in poverty was hard. Growing up in poverty in a wealthy town in a wealthy neighborhood almost made it harder because we felt so different than everyone else. Accepting help can be hard but without it, I don’t know how we would have made it through. I think there’s a lot this country could be doing better to help the millions of people who are beneath the poverty line lift themselves into the middle class: Policies in taxation and changes in labor laws to shrink the wealth gap, improvements in early child care, financial aid and making community colleges and trade schools accessible to all free of charge. Changes to housing laws and the criminal justice system….the possibilities are endless and each has the potential of making the lives of millions a little easier. I hope to one day be a part of creating and passing legislation like this which is why I’m pursuing a degree in Government. I’d love to be a politician but I’d be just as happy working with one and giving a voice to those like me. This country is just as much our community as our neighborhood is.

I’m a unicorn. It’s a term used here in Austin, TX - where I’m from - for our natives. Sadly, we’ve become a rarity round’ here, but I try to embody all that makes Austin so attractive to the 168 folks per day that move here: a progressive attitude, warmth + a hint of weirdness. I live for politics & dream of becoming a politician. The only TV I watch is the news... and I get a lot of sideways looks when I tell people that…so I guess I must be a unicorn in that sense too. Also, how many Allegra’s do you know outside of the medicinal variety?

I love when I’m given the opportunity to share my knowledge or skill set and aide in building someone’s abilities and confidence. Give someone a fish, they have a meal.; teach someone to fish, they have a meal for life. I love to see others succeed, and giving someone something that they can utilize that will help them in achieving a goal is extremely fulfilling. For ten years I managed for a big box retailer. It definitely had its drawbacks, but one of the best parts and a big part of why I stuck around for so long regardless of having to work unscheduled and long hours. and often enduring overwhelming stress, was my love for leading a team. I thrived in my leadership role, and truly enjoyed helping my associates-many of whom were working for the first time in their life-build up their job skills. For those who had the drive and determination to move up in the company, I’d dedicate extra time to regularly, and would build a development plan along with them to grow their leadership skills to get them to the next level and beyond. I can think of few more positive interactions I’ve had in my life than telling someone who I’ve been working with over some time that they were getting the promotion they’d been working for. It’s their achievement, but I found a lot of joy in being a part of their journey. I only hope that they think fondly of my constructive criticism and that I had some positive influence in their life.

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I’m not what you would picture when you think of homelessness, but maybe that’s because we need to reenvision what that looks like. Homelessness is plaguing our society and it’s not just mentally ill and drug-addicted. Today young adults like myself make up a huge percentage of the population thanks to rising housing costs and a stagnant minimum wage. I like to joke that getting into a good school destroyed my life and made me homeless: that's not the whole story, but it’s not too far off either. After a successful run in retail management, I decided to enroll at the community college. I made good money but it wasn't fulfilling so I juggled work and classes for a few years. When it came time to transfer I shocked myself by being accepted to my dream school- but unless I cloned myself I couldn't keep my job and go there. Not about to walk away just as my dreams were coming true, I put in my notice, opting to figure it out but figure it out, I did not. My savings, financial aid, and gig work didn't take me far and that's how I ended up as part of the statistic. So homelessness became my reality for 5 months. It was scary, but rather than dwell on mistakes or feel sorry for myself I just worked. Nonstop. Often without sleep, never a day off. That's how I coped and how I clawed my way out. And ya know what? I have no regrets. I grew and learned more about myself during that time than any before it and I am stronger and more resilient than I ever could have imagined. I don't want to be the version of me who had it easier, this one is definitely better.

Most days are a struggle. I know many in the world have it much worst and in the grand scheme of things I have a lot to l be thankful for...but growing up in poverty comes with a heck of a lot of struggle. Human resources, just as useful when the going gets tough, are slim to none too. My family consists of my younger brother, an uncle on the other side of the country that I've met a few times, and my mother who has suffered from a debilitating disability for 20 years (but what she lacks in physical strength is more than made up for In kindness). You may think I'm doing a lot of sniffling, but on the contrary, In many ways, I'm thankful for my struggle-you don't grow from the easy days. Did you know your brain grows from stress? Literally measurably grows, I argue that logic applies to our mental and cognitive strength too. I credit the person I am to the struggle I've experienced, and I'm damn proud of who I am. I wouldn't want to be a version of me who had it easier, but I would like to experience some of the finer things in life, travel outside of the country...or at least live without the fear of not being able to pay rent or the electric bill that is constantly looming at the forefront of my mind. As thankful as I am for who my struggle made me, I don't want my son to experience the same hardship. So anytime I don't feel like going to class or studying or getting up in the morning I visualize what future doing those things could bring-a life of less worry-and that's all the motivation I need.

"All was well." - the final words in my deeply beloved Harry Potter series, and as someone who lives with panic disorder, it's also become my mantra when things begin to feel like more than I can handle. Short and sweet, but thought-provoking. In my 30 years on this earth, one thing I've learned is we humans are capable of enduring our worst nightmares, losing everything we've worked for or care about, enduring immense tragedy- anything that is thrown our way has a way of eventually working itself out and in the end, all will be well. I was one of those kids waiting in line at midnight for the new Harry Potter book Release. I'd spend the next 24-48hrs reading it cover to cover without sleeping. I was roughly the same age as the actors when the movies came out, so we all grew up together: me, the books, and the cast. I dreaded the end of the series, I didn't want to say goodbye and I feared an ending unworthy of the characters and story that would tarnish my love of it all. Of course, Rowling managed to tie up every loose end beautifully. When I read those final words I instantly teared up, I can not imagine how difficult writing those final words would be and I knew an immense amount of thought had gone into them. Harry had faced loss, his mortality, and overcame evil but once all was said and done, everything would be ok. Rowling was saying goodbye to characters and a story that had changed her life and been a crutch during her darkest days, and those like me were grappling with the end of an era: the words could be interpreted from many perspectives and they were perfectly fitting for all of them. Fast forward a few years and I was struggling with panic attacks. Whenever I feared I might faint I'd call my mom, who also suffered from the disorder, and she would always tell me to remember that no matter what, it would all turn out okay. Being 18, one day impulsively decided to get my first tattoo while on a long lunch break. Nothing felt more poignant than the phrase, which I got in Harry Potter's title don't across my collarbone. Ironically most shirts cover up everything but "All" which makes many people ask if I have my name there instead, but I'm always happy to show it off and tell them my story behind it. A lot of people regret their first tattoo, I struggle to think of anything that could have been better.

In 2019 the job I'd held for over 10 years forced me to pick between them or school because of scheduling conflicts after transferring to my dream school. I chose my education, obviously. Unfortunately, I couldn't make nearly the same income I did managing in the gig economy and we lost our home and lived out of motels for a few months. (Don't worry, we're fine now!) I couldn't part way's with my best friend, Janus, during such a difficult time so we leash trained her and took her on adventures across Texas along with us!

When you think of the homeless, what kind of person do you see? Do you picture a bright and happy young woman in her prime, who has had a very successful management career already and just transferred to the college of her dreams? Not exactly the definition I would have thought of either but that is how I would have described myself, and yet I was homeless. I’ve joked that getting into my dream school ruined my life, but that was my cynicism talking. In reality it was the product of a devastating year. My tiny family had been eviscerated to just my mom and I after the loss of my grandpa and my father, who had hidden a metastatic cancer diagnosis, just a month apart I pretended I was fine, but I had been unhappy with my job managing a big box retailer for years. Pressure to do more with less had been weighing on my mental health. I barely made ends meet and, until I graduated, felt trapped there by my salary I didn’t think I’d find elsewhere. When the acceptance letter to my dream school came it felt like the light at the end of a tunnel. I had always excelled academically and had juggled community college and work well for years. The new school was more demanding than I was capable of handling in my deteriorated state. I felt uncomfortable with the young party culture, and was angry that what I worked so hard for came at the lowest point of my life. I hit a breaking point and took leave from work under my doctor’s orders and didn’t get out of bed for weeks. I thought the time off would help and when it didn’t, I impulsively quit. I knew I had no plan, but felt salvaging my education and mental health was worth whatever I lost. I was evicted 8 weeks later, took a semester off and did gig work to pay for a storage unit for my stuff and motels most nights. It took over 4 months to afford and find a new home, and thankfully the repo men didn’t find my car, which had been my saving grace, until after I moved in. Being homeless was scary, but during those 4 months I felt more free than I ever had. My mind was quiet, I’d faced my biggest fear of losing everything and it was okay. I learned how to manage my money so well that haven’t needed to return to a real job. Instead I took time for a relationship, had our first child and started classes up again the week he was brought home – and excelled. I don’t have any regrets from my failures, they probably saved my life.