Being the child of a single-parent household wasn't all that odd, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I was in awe of the nuclear families on TV, and their shiny, blindingly white teeth, freshly-starched clothes, and most importantly, two parents who always seemed to be able to drop anything they were doing for their kids. Being the eldest daughter of a single mother in a low-income household has been difficult, but every hardship, every disappointment, and every failure has made me a better student, sister, daughter, artist, and person in general. Because my mother wasn't able to be there for me as much as I would have liked, I developed a sense of independence very early on in my life, in nearly every aspect of my life, including my education. My mom worked long midnight shifts for a lot of my early school career, and later on, had frequent meetings, meaning I couldn't go to her for help as much as I would've liked. She often couldn't make it to my school events or was often too tired to do so. It saddened me, but I know that everything she did was to improve my quality of life, even if as a young child I couldn't understand or sympathize with it. As a result, I learned how to scour the internet to find what I needed, so I could teach myself how to do anything I needed. In addition, I had a strong support system in the form of my friends, and other family members, but especially in my grandmother. Even if they couldn't help me with my work, or provide me with all the answers I felt I needed to succeed, just knowing that they were there for me as much as they could be was enough. I grew up in a small urban community where there were a lot of kids, and not a lot to do. When COVID happened, I watched a lot of businesses I had watched develop and flourish over the course of my childhood shut down without a second thought. My family lost our home. Everything I had gotten used to (school, home, and even my theatre group) was suddenly gone. I went from pursuing a career on the stage to being forced into the shadows. I felt hopeless as I moved from place to place while also trying to juggle starting another year of school completely virtually, a dwindling social life and anxiety fueled by my fear of failure and the fear that maybe, things would never be normal again. Despite all this, I developed a deep passion that saved my life. I've always loved drawing and art, but during COVID, I had to reevaluate what was important to me and what exactly I wanted to do with my life and talents. I had an amazing opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art and other designs for other nonprofits, and also work with kids doing art, and, in all honesty, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to kids I saw myself reflected in. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a passion and to explore creativity as an outlet for their anxieties and positive feelings alike. I'm going into animation to inspire through my favorite artistic medium. Art saved me. If I could help save another kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

Being the child of a single-parent household wasn't all that odd, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I was in awe of the nuclear families on TV, and their shiny, blindingly white teeth, freshly-starched clothes, and most importantly, two parents who always seemed to be able to drop anything they were doing for their kids. Being the eldest daughter of a single mother in a low-income household has been difficult, but every hardship, every disappointment, and every failure has made me a better student, sister, daughter, artist, and person in general. Because my mother wasn't able to be there for me as much as I would have liked, I developed a sense of independence very early on in my life, in nearly every aspect of my life, including my education. My mom worked long midnight shifts for a lot of my early school career, and later on, had frequent meetings, meaning I couldn't go to her for help as much as I would've liked. She often couldn't make it to my school events or was too tired to do so. It saddened me, but I know that everything she did was to improve my quality of life, even if as a young child at the time I couldn't understand or sympathize with it. As a result, I learned how to scour the internet to find what I needed, so I could teach myself how to do anything I needed. In addition, I had a strong support system in the form of my friends, and other family members, but especially in my grandmother. Even if they couldn't help me with my work, or provide me with all the answers I felt I needed to succeed, just knowing that they were there for me as much as they could be was enough. I grew up in a small urban community, where there were a lot of kids, and not a lot to do. When COVID happened, I watched a lot of businesses I had watched develop and flourish over the years shut down without a second thought. My family lost our home. Everything I had gotten used to (school, home, and even my theatre group) was suddenly gone. I went from pursuing a career on the stage to being forced into the shadows, and I felt hopeless as I moved from place to place while also trying to juggle starting another year of high school completely virtually, a dwindling social life and anxiety fueled by my fear of failure and the fear that maybe, things would never be normal again. Despite all this, I developed a deep passion that I know saved my life. I had always loved drawing and art, but over the pandemic, I had to reevaluate what was important to me and what exactly I wanted to do with my life and talents. I had an amazing opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art and other designs for other nonprofits, and also work hands-on with kids doing arts and crafts, and, in all honesty, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion and to explore being creative as an outlet for their anxieties and positive feelings alike. I'm going into animation to inspire through my favorite artistic medium. Art saved me and if I could help save another kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

I like to crochet while watching video essays about my favorite video games. One of my favorite past times is styling my hair in new and creative ways. I nap in the sun and walk in the rain. Most importantly, I'm a proud movie and show crier. There's just something otherworldly about seeing a film for the first time and experiencing that new world. I always leave the theatre or close my laptop, full of emotion and ambition and sometimes in tears. Being said, most of my best ideas have come from the motivation I get when consuming a new (or revisited) piece of media. My art teacher believes that art is an extension of who you are, and to create or perceive art is to perceive yourself. Art, to me, is a means of expressing the human experience. Art allows you to tell the world who you are without saying a single word. I have a deep love for art in every form, and without art, I can honestly say I wouldn't be the individual I am today. I've made comic books for my brothers, portraits for my mom and grandma, and played with every medium I could get my hands on. So many things created by other creatives have impacted my life exponentially, like games and film. I've been creating for as long as my tiny hands could grasp a crayon, and making and perceiving art has been an abundant source of comfort and joy for me, no matter what's going on in my life. When COVID began my first year of high school, my family, due to unforeseen circumstances, unfortunately, lost our home, and we moved in with my grandmother soon afterward. I was petrified; the second year of my high school career would be entirely online. I couldn't see my friends, couldn't leave the house, and nobody seemed to be able to agree when (or if) things would ever go back to normal. I had been in theatre for years at that point, and suddenly, the show we spent hours memorizing and perfecting was dead. My world felt like it was crumbling before my eyes. I had always loved drawing and art, but I quickly had to reevaluate what was important to me and what I wanted to do with my life and talents to set myself up to be successful. After lots and lots of hard work, I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits and worked with kids doing arts and crafts. In all honesty, it was what I needed at that time. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. That experience taught me to want to do the same for my community. I want to allow kids to have the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion and to explore being creative as an outlet for their anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help inspire another kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

Life is the sum of the experiences you have. So, I try and have as many enjoyable ones as possible. I like to crochet while watching video essays about my favorite video games. One of my favorite past times is styling my hair in new and creative ways. I nap in the sun and walk in the rain. Most importantly, I'm a proud movie and show crier. There's just something otherworldly about seeing a film for the first time and experiencing that new world. I always leave the theatre or close my laptop, full of emotion and ambition and sometimes in tears. Being said, most of my best ideas have come from the motivation I get when consuming a new (or revisited) piece of media. My art teacher believes that art is an extension of who you are, and to create or perceive art is to perceive yourself. Art, to me, is a means of expressing the human experience. Art allows you to tell the world who you are without saying a single word. I have a deep love for art in every form, and without art, I can honestly say I wouldn't be the individual I am today. I've made comic books for my brothers, portraits for my mom and grandma, and played with every medium I could get my hands on. So many things created by other creatives have impacted my life exponentially, like games and film. I've been creating for as long as my tiny hands could grasp a crayon, and making and perceiving art has been an abundant source of comfort and joy for me, no matter what's going on in my lifé. When COVID began my first year of high school, my family, due to unforeseen When COVID began my first year of high school, my family, due to unforeseen circumstances, unfortunately, lost our home, and we moved in with my grandmother soon afterward. I was petrified; the second year of my high school career would be entirely online. I couldn't see my friends, couldn't leave the house, and nobody seemed to be able to agree when (or if) things would ever go back to normal. I had been in theatre for years at that point, and suddenly, the show we spent hours memorizing and perfecting was dead. My world felt like it was crumbling before my eyes. I had always loved drawing and art, but I quickly had to reevaluate what was important to me and what I wanted to do with my life and talents to set myself up to be successful. After lots and lots of hard work, I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits and worked with kids doing arts and crafts. In all honesty, it was what I needed at that time. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. That experience taught me that I want to do the same for my community. I want to allow kids to have the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion and to explore being creative as an outlet for their anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help inspire another kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

"Whatever you decide to do, be the best version you can be," Mimi repeats like a mantra even though I can't begin to understand what she means. My younger self nods, knowing that even though I don't get what she means quite yet, I do understand her serious tone. Years later, I find myself repeating her words of wisdom, while I submit scholarships, while I determinedly sketch, paint, and animate, and even while lying in bed, thinking of the future my Mimi hoped, prayed for, and willed into existence for me. Being a first-generation college student is as petrifying and stressful as it is exhilarating. Although my mom and Mimi are two of the most intelligent, brilliant women I have ever met, they didn't complete college themselves. My grandmother's biggest dream was to become a nurse, and my mother wanted to do the same. On the other hand, I fell in love with the process of creating rich worlds and characters, and even more so with the process of bringing them to life, and after a lot of thought, I knew that animation was what I was meant to do. When I told them that a career in animation was what I wanted, I received some raised eyebrows. But Mimi reiterated the quote that was now permanently engraved in my brain, and I knew that was that. There's an unspoken pressure to succeed as a first-generation college student. A little voice in the back of my head whispers to me that if I don't do well, I'll be letting everybody down. But that little voice is small and insignificant when I remember that the reason I chose to pursue a career in the arts ultimately was to do the thing I love to do. It fades when I realize that as long as I try as hard as I can in my career and beyond, not only will I make my family proud, but also, most importantly, myself proud.

Future Amara Middlebrooks is everything I am currently working towards; she is resourceful, creative, motivated, and most importantly, she does things that make her happy, whether that's as small as spending a few extra dollars on her favorite Starbucks order or as big as fulfilling her dream of being a showrunner.

Being the child of a single parent household wasn't all that odd in my community, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I was in awe of the nuclear families on TV, and their shiny, blindingly white teeth, freshly-starched clothes, and most importantly, two parents who always seemed to be able to drop anything they were doing for their kids. Being the eldest daughter of a single mother in a low-income household has been hard, but every hardship, every disappointment, and every failure has made me a better student, sister, daughter, artist, and person in general. Because my mother wasn't able to be there for me as much as I would have liked, I developed a sense of independence very early on in my life, in nearly every aspect of my life, including my education. My mom worked long midnight shifts for a lot of my early school career, and later on, had frequent meetings, meaning I couldn't go to her for help as much as I would've liked. She often couldn't make it to my school events or was too tired to do so. It saddened me, but I know that everything she did was to improve my quality of life, even if as a young child at the time I couldn't understand or sympathize with it. As a result, I learned how to scour the internet to find what I needed, so I could teach myself how to do anything I needed. In addition, I had a strong support system in my friends, other family members, and especially my grandmother. Even if they couldn't help me with my work, or provide me with all the answers I felt I needed to succeed, just knowing that they were there for me as much as they could be was enough. I grew up in a small urban community, where there were a lot of kids, and not a lot to do. When COVID happened, I watched a lot of businesses I had watched develop and flourish over the years shut down without a second thought, and I felt hopeless as I moved from place to place while also trying to juggle starting high school completely virtually, a dwindling social life, and anxiety fueled by my own fear of failure and the fear that maybe things would never ever be normal again. Despite all this, over the pandemic, I developed a deep passion that I think saved my life. I had always loved drawing and art, but over the pandemic, I really had to reevaluate what was important to me and what exactly it was that I wanted to do with my life and talents. I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits, and also work hands-on with kids doing arts and crafts, and, in all honesty, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion, and to explore being creative as an outlet for their own anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help save one other kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

If I've learned one thing over my 18 years of creating, it's that the best pieces come from a place of initial reluctance, and then, after that, using your unique voice, and reworking it until it's become something you love. When my art teacher gave us an assignment to create a painting with black and gold as our jumping point, my heart sank beyond the soles of my worn Converse, for more than one reason. Acrylic painting is often much too permanent a medium for my personal tastes. And on top of that, who ever heard of starting a painting off with black? As I flitted through what felt like hundreds of thousands of references and began sketching and jotting down ideas, I became inspired by not only the photos I found but by how they reflected what I saw in my everyday life, of the culture, my culture, ever present around me. My Pinterest boards filled quickly with dark coils, in every length, every style you can imagine, of textured hair not unlike my own, of golden chains, bangles, and rings, and more importantly, the women who wore them, women ever reminding me of my own mother, her mother, and all of their mothers before them. I was in awe, and drawn in simultaneously by their wide noses, mirroring my own, their brown skin of every shade and variety, and by the way, their curls seemed to reflect and resemble the sun and sky above them. As I began mixing the tones of the woman's deep ebony skin, I decided, then and there, that I was going to do their ethereal beauty justice. I used red for her dress deliberately, because, although it is a color commonly associated with anger, it's also associated with confidence, passion, and energy, which are the feelings I wanted to portray with my piece. In addition, in the African-American community, red is often frowned upon, especially for young girls, because, to many, the color is associated with being 'grown' and 'fast'. I picked the vibrant red that I did in direct opposition to this idea. Every stroke was intentional, from the brown-blue and gold of the clouds to the golden finger waves, and the dark makeup made to match, and the result was something that I couldn't believe my hands had created. I received a 100% for my hard work, but, looking back, I don't think that was the most substantial and satisfying part of the experience. The part that I ended up enjoying the most was using what I saw in the people surrounding me, and people who looked like me, and portraying to anybody who would look at the painting, what I saw as plain as day: ethereal, and beautiful, in every sense of the word.

In five years, I will be freshly 22. If you had asked 14-year-old Amara what exactly she had planned out for the next four years, I know for a fact that she would stare at you blankly, and maybe mumble out a short ‘I don’t know’. Luckily, 18-year-old Amara has a bit more direction, and honestly, I’m elated about said direction. In the fall, I plan on attending the College for Creative Studies, and majoring in Animation. My main goal, while in school and out, is to create works that will not only stand the trials of time, but also inspire others like me. When I was a little girl, I remember latching onto any female character who resembled me, or my mother, or grandmother, in my favorite form of art, animation. I stayed awake until my little, dark eyes burned to see Penny Proud of The Proud Family during the Disney Channel late-night programming. Iridessa secretly became my favorite fairy in Disney’s animated Tinker Bell movies, simply because I thought her cornrows, which had ethereal, golden pieces woven throughout, were stunning, and mirrored my own dark, thick plaits. When my mother bought home The Princess and The Frog, which featured Disney’s first-ever animated African-American princess, I remember rewatching every scene, memorizing every color to memory, and being in awe, because not only did she remind me a lot of my own grandmother, but also because it truly caused me to fall in love with the art form known as animation. I want to create characters, concepts, and stories that little girls who resemble me can love like I loved Tiana, Iridessa, and Penny. Before I even got accepted to my dream school, I promised my grandmother (who my brothers and I lovingly refer to as Mimi), two things: that I would finish school, no matter what, and that, after I was done, I would help support my two younger brothers in their journey to do the same. Being a first-generation college student has been extremely stressful, but I know every disappointment, struggle, and trial will be worth it, if I can not only inspire other Black creatives, but my siblings to follow through with their aspirations and dreams. Like I said earlier, if you had asked me just a few years ago what I would be doing with my future, I would have blinked at you with about as much emotion as a paper bag, and continued about my day, because, honestly, I wasn't too sure. But now, the picture of what I want to do with my life is becoming clearer with every passing day. I want to use my talents to inspire others. Over the pandemic, I developed a deep passion that saved my life. I had always loved art, but over the pandemic, I had to reevaluate what was important to me and what I wanted to do with my life. I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits, and also work hands-on with kids doing arts and crafts, and, honestly, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a passion, and to explore being creative as an outlet for their anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help save one other kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

When people told me that graduation was imminent, and that college, and all the 'adulting' that comes along with, would be at my door before I knew it, I laughed in their faces. Me? College? As if! But alas, as I sit writing, I've been accepted to my dream college, and I'll be attending it this fall. High school has not been the kindest to me, but it HAS definitely taught me a lot about stress, dealing with it, moving past it, and growing from it, which I know will help me in college. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, I can confidently say that I've dealt with them all. Juggling personal problems with school is difficult on another level, but I did it, and I plan on continuing in college. How? I take the time to reflect on myself, and how I am doing as much as possible. I know I can't heal from my past experiences and focus the best I can on anything, including schoolwork, without first processing and prioritizing how I am doing at any given point. In addition, I have the greatest support system, full of family, friends, and people who want me to succeed in everything I do just as much as I want to. Their love helps motivate me, because I know they believe in me, even when it's hard for me to believe in myself. I also make it a habit of trying to eat as healthily as possible, and I drink at least 6 cups of pure water a day. I've found that when I do eat three meals, I feel more energized, and when I drink water, my skin clears exponentially, and I feel as though I'm glowing from the inside out. Having a college degree, to me has a lot of benefits. People with degrees earn about 25,000 more than people who've only completed high school, and they often have more plausible job opportunities than people without degrees. Degrees allow you to work with like-minded people, and form connections that can help you in your future career. In addition, completing college is in itself an amazing feat, and that is a benefit all on its' own.

Although I haven't lived the most exceptional life, and I know for a fact that I've made plenty of mistakes, and I have had my fair share of disappointments, I can always say that I've gone above and beyond to be the best version of myself I can be. I want to always be somebody that I can be proud of. And maybe, just maybe, that is enough. Even though things haven't always been the easiest for me, I always strive to do the best I can with what I have, and help as many people as I can along the way. I volunteer for my church, and I babysit for family members, because I know that money isn't the only way you can improve the livelihoods of others. Sometimes it only takes a few minutes of kindness, and an attempt to make things easier for others to make a difference, and to go above and beyond. If you had asked me just a few years ago what I would be doing with my future, I would have blinked at you with about as much emotion as a paper bag, and continued about my day, because, honestly, I wasn't too sure. But now, the picture of what I want to do with my life is becoming clearer with every passing day. I want to use my talents to inspire other people. Over the pandemic, I developed a deep passion that I think saved my life. I had always loved drawing and art, but over the pandemic, I really had to reevaluate what was important to me and what exactly it was that I wanted to do with my life and talents. I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits, and also work hands-on with kids doing arts and crafts, and, in all honesty, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion, and to explore being creative as an outlet for their own anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help save one other kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

When people told me that graduation was imminent, and that college, and all the 'adulting' that comes along with would be at my door before I knew it, I laughed in their faces. Me? College? As if! But alas, as I sit writing, I've been accepted to my dream college, and I'll be attending it this fall. I, like many other high school seniors, am absolutely terrified to begin this new chapter in my life. Despite my fears, I'm also insanely excited for what's to come. It's a fresh start! A new beginning, pursuing art, something I have so much love for, at art school, a place filled with like-minded artists and new opportunities. A few years back, I couldn't have imagined how important art would become to me, and now, I'm working hard on art and scholarships alike to be able to attend the art school of my dreams. It's been a very hard path to get to where I am now, but the feeling of knowing that you're going to be learning more about something you love doing makes it so worth every sleepless night, anxiety, and fear I could ever come up with. It's difficult to narrow what I'm excited about to just a few things, because just the fact that I have an opportunity to go to college at all is so very amazing to me! High school has not been the kindest to me, but it HAS definitely taught me a lot about stress, dealing with it, moving past it, and growing from it. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, I can confidently say that I've dealt with them all. Juggling personal problems with school is difficult on another level, but I did it. How? I take the time to reflect on myself, and how I am doing as much as possible. I know I can't heal from my past experiences, without first processing and prioritizing how I am doing at any given point. In addition, I have the greatest support system, full of family, friends, and people who want me to succeed just as much as I want to. Their love helps motivate me, because I know they believe in me, even when it's hard for me to believe in myself. I also make it a habit of trying to eat as healthily as possible, and I drink at least 6 cups of pure water a day. I've found that when I do eat three meals, I feel more energized, and when I drink water, my skin clears exponentially, and I feel as though I'm glowing from the inside out.

Being a queer, low-income, African-American female student from a single-parent household sometimes feels every single possible odd has been stacked, one on top of the other, in order to make life as challenging as possible. But, being in the place that I am has allowed me a rather unique perspective on the world around me. When there's so much that I can complain about, it makes the little things that invoke a spark of joy within me, like my relationships with my family, creating things, or listening to my favorite songs or watching my favorite movies, all the more special. Although I had no active father in my life, his absence for my entire life allows me to have a special connection with my grandmother, one that I wouldn't trade for anything in this world. I vividly remember being jealous of the shiny television families, who had parents who could (and would) drop everything to attend to their children and provide them with whatever they needed, whenever they needed it. My own mother didn't have much time for me; she worked long midnight shifts, and as a result, slept all throughout the day. My grandmother became my own personal superhero. Every recital, play, and parent-teacher conference, it truly didn't matter the event, my grandmother came and supported me. She listened attentively and quelled my fears that my mother didn't love me as much as she did, and pushed me to succeed and become the best version of Miss Amara Middlebrooks I could ever hope to be. She taught me to cook collard greens, how to make a sugar-sweet 7-up pound cake, how to care for plants and children alike, and I wouldn't be the person I am today without her. Above all, she reminded me that the only person who could ever hold me back in this life is myself, and that's something I still keep close to my heart to this day. The pandemic affected everybody on Earth in an absurdly negative way. The isolation and crippling loneliness, paired with the uniquely American threat of civil unrest, and financial crisis impacted many families, and mines was no different. I found my life had turned upside down in the blink of an eye. I was forced to begin my first year of high school alone, while moving from place to place, and eventually sharing a home with 6 other people. One of my only outlets for my creativity, theatre, was gone, and I spiraled into a deep, deep sadness, that nothing could get me out of. Or at least, that's what I thought, until one day I picked up a pencil and began drawing. I have always loved art, and the process of creating art, but until I was forced to be alone with my thoughts, with my life stripped to the bare minimum, I didn't understand how much creating would be an escape for me. I scoured the internet for tutorials, and pleaded for any art materials I could get, and as a result, it was like the world opened up to me. I had my work published, and thanks to an amazing summer program, I was able to share my love of creating with kids much younger than myself, and even have a few paintings of mine in a small exhibition in a museum. I was in awe at what I could do, and I found a new love that has lead me here, to pursuing an art career, at an art school I could've never imagined me even being accepted to.

'So, even though you have broken my heart yet again, I wanted to say, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.' says Waymond Wang, illuminated by the sickly yellow-green of the artificial street lights, and instantly, I feel the familiar, bittersweet sensation of hot tears pricking at the back of my tired eyelids. My hands ache as another finished plait drops from my hands. I should be concerned with the fact that I have school in only two hours, or maybe the fact that I've been up for 18 hours straight, but all I can truly think about is the film I'm staring at taking place on my dimly lit laptop screen that is currently covered in an assortment of curl creams, oils, and greases. Growing up in the age of technology, I've been exposed to, and as a result, consumed a lot of media that has greatly impacted who I am as a person, and movies are no exception. Movies like Coraline, Doctor Strange, Room, and more have impacted the way I view films, and life in general, just like how films should. But one film, in particular, has had a grasp on my mind for a long while. I first came over Everything, Everywhere, All At Once on TikTok, and since I'm a huge fan of sci-fi/multiverse movies (see: Doctor Strange and The Multiverse of Madness, Spider-Man Into The Spiderverse, etc), I swore up and down I would check it out. But life happens, and the film was swept to the back of my mind, while things like the imminent threat of graduation (what do you mean I'm almost an adult??), being a broke high school senior (prom tickets are HOW MUCH?), and much more took its place in the spotlight of my stressed out mind. But, after stumbling across another TikTok edit, AND an article about how visually stunning and thematically interesting the film was, I decided it was fate. I plopped down onto my puke-brown carpet, hair products in hand, and clicked on the film. I had little to no expectations of what the movie was about (I prefer going into movies blind), but I came out of the experience filled with optimism, tears and snot, and a new outlook on my relationship with my own mother that I saw reflected clearly in the film. The movie centers on an Asian immigrant mother who is trying to save her family from a multiversal threat (caused by an alternate version of her own daughter) by harnessing the abilities of her alternate selves. For me, the film hit especially hard when I correlated the relationship between Evelyn (the protagonist), Joy (her daughter/Jobu Tupaki, the antagonist), and the relationship I shared with my own mother. The movie helped me reflect on my own mother. A woman who had become a mother nearly straight out of her own childhood, who makes ugly burnt pancakes for me every Sunday without fail, who bought me itchy shirts and oddly fitting tracksuits, just because she was thinking of me. A woman who would drop Everything to make sure that my life was as easy as she could make it. Joy is pessimistic, and misunderstood, but she deeply cares for her mother, and I realize that though I don't have the power to be a rock or make a bagel with Everything, she and I are similar in many other ways. ' I will always, always, want to be here with you.' Evelyn says to her daughter, and I find that I'm crying once again.

My name is Amara Middlebrooks, and before all else, I am a Black, female creative. Knowing this and recognizing each aspect of my identity is imperative in understanding exactly who I am, and why I do what I do. As both a woman and a person of color, representation in most fields and careers is severely lacking. This includes every aspect of the entertainment industry and is especially true for the particular field that I plan on going into; the animation industry. Only 20-30 percent of women hold jobs in the animation industry in the United States, despite making up the majority of animation majors and art college students as a whole. Black people account for only around 4 percent of American animators. Both blatant and sometimes more subtle racial stereotypes and sexist beliefs and practices make up a large sum of Western animation's history. The effects of the periods of history in which they weren't represented accurately, or at all, are still felt and reflected upon even today. Both African-Americans and women (and female-presenting people) are often underrepresented in animation spaces, and their cultures and individual voices are both insanely underutilized, underappreciated, and exploited all at the same time. I want to change that, and bring about the representation and change that I want to see. Pursuing a career in animation, which is something I'm extremely passionate about, is the first step in being that change. I will probably never forget my mom bringing home the DVD version of Disney's Princess and the Frog for my brothers and me back in 2010. To put it simply, it changed my life forever. I saw myself, my mother, my grandmother, and all those like us who had come before shown in every aspect of Tiana, in a way I couldn't visualize in princesses like Ariel or Belle. The themes of family, love (in the platonic and romantic sense), and perseverance, especially represented through the lens of the African-American experience comforted me in a way that animation or many forms of media as a whole never had before. It was a cultural reset for me, and many other little girls like me. It introduced me to the world of animation and showed me that people like me could be a part of the process. Animation is a beautiful art form, and I am pursuing a career to inspire other creatives with similar backgrounds. I do what I do to make myself, my family, and the people who might not have the opportunities I have, proud.

No, I was not in the foster care system. My name is Amara Middlebrooks, and before all else, I am a Black, female creative. Knowing this and recognizing each aspect of my identity is imperative in understanding exactly who I am, and why I do what I do. As both a woman and a person of color, representation in most fields and careers is severely lacking. This includes every aspect of the entertainment industry and is especially true for the particular field that I plan on going into; the animation industry. Only 20-30 percent of women hold jobs in the animation industry in the United States, despite making up the majority of animation majors and art college students as a whole. Black people account for only around 4 percent of American animators. Both blatant and sometimes more subtle racial stereotypes and sexist beliefs and practices make up a large sum of Western animation's history. The effects of the periods of history in which they weren't represented accurately, or at all, are still felt and reflected upon even today. Both African-Americans and women (and female-presenting people) are often underrepresented in animation spaces, and their cultures and individual voices are both insanely underutilized, underappreciated, and exploited all at the same time. I want to change that, and bring about the representation and change that I want to see. Pursuing a career in animation, which is something I'm extremely passionate about, is the first step in being that change. I will probably never forget my mom bringing home the DVD version of Disney's Princess and the Frog for my brothers and me back in 2010. To put it simply, it changed my life forever. I saw myself, my mother, my grandmother, and all those like us who had come before shown in every aspect of Tiana, in a way I couldn't visualize in princesses like Ariel or Belle. The themes of family, love (in the platonic and romantic sense), and perseverance, especially represented through the lens of the African-American experience comforted me in a way that animation or many forms of media as a whole never had before. It was a cultural reset for me, and many other little girls like me. It introduced me to the world of animation and showed me that people like me could be a part of the process. Animation is a beautiful art form, and I am pursuing a career to inspire other creatives with similar backgrounds. I do what I do to make myself, my family, and the people who might not have the opportunities I have, proud.

My name is Amara Middlebrooks, and before all else, I am a Black, female creative. Knowing this and recognizing each aspect of my identity is imperative in understanding exactly who I am, and why I do what I do. As both a woman and a person of color, representation in most fields and careers is severely lacking. This includes every aspect of the entertainment industry and is especially true for the particular field that I plan on going into; the animation industry. Only 20-30 percent of women hold jobs in the animation industry in the United States, despite making up the majority of animation majors and art college students as a whole. Black people account for only around 4 percent of American animators. Both blatant and sometimes more subtle racial stereotypes and sexist beliefs and practices make up a large sum of Western animation's history. The effects of the periods of history in which they weren't represented accurately, or at all, are still felt and reflected upon even today. Both African-Americans and women (and female-presenting people) are often underrepresented in animation spaces, and their cultures and individual voices are both insanely underutilized, underappreciated, and exploited all at the same time. I want to change that, and bring about the representation and change that I want to see. Pursuing a career in animation, which is something I'm extremely passionate about, is the first step in being that change. I will probably never forget my mom bringing home the DVD version of Disney's Princess and the Frog for my brothers and me back in 2010. To put it simply, it changed my life forever. I saw myself, my mother, my grandmother, and all those like us who had come before shown in every aspect of Tiana, in a way I couldn't visualize in princesses like Ariel or Belle. The themes of family, love (in the platonic and romantic sense), and perseverance, especially represented through the lens of the African-American experience comforted me in a way that animation or many forms of media as a whole never had before. It was a cultural reset for me, and many other little girls like me. It introduced me to the world of animation and showed me that people like me could be a part of the process. Animation is a beautiful art form, and I am pursuing a career to inspire other creatives with similar backgrounds. I do what I do to make myself, my family, and the people who might not have the opportunities I have, proud.

Part of being human is being creative, and without creativity and the arts, I really and truly believe that we, as humans, would have nothing. Everything we see around us was created by human beings who used their natural creativity to change the world around them for the better. That being said, everything is art. Being passionate about the arts is really so very amazing because it helps me look at the entire world from a different perspective. It allows me to see the beauty in everything, from the coil of my dark ebony hair to the flow of the wind in the trees. The arts give me a place to showcase who I am as a human being, why I do what I do, and most importantly, express my thoughts and feelings in a physical sense. My life journey is innately connected to my identity as a Black woman creative, and my choice to enter the art field, which unfortunately doesn't traditionally favor people of color, or women, and especially not both. Despite this, I've seen some of the most creative pieces of media and art from people who looked just like me. People with backgrounds similar to my own found ways to cope with the trauma of being hated for simply existing by tapping into their creativity. Beautiful music, movies, paintings, foods, and more sprung not from the need to conform, but from the idea that every aspect of our individual identities and our creativity combined can come together to make something that invokes joy. Picking one piece of art or music that's the most important to me is really hard. A lot of artists and pieces are insanely influential on who I am, like Erykah Badu's Mama's Gun, or the entirety of the film Coraline, but I would have to say the one that is the absolute most important to me would have to be Disney's The Princess and the Frog. I fell in love with the movie at first watch, and although the movie itself is one of my favorites for its music, visuals, and aesthetic alone, that's not why it stuck with me as much as it did. It stuck because I saw myself, I saw my mother, I saw my grandmother, and all those like us who had come before shown in every aspect of Tiana, in a way I couldn't visualize in princesses like Ariel or Belle. The themes of family, love (in the platonic and romantic sense), and perseverance, especially represented through the lens of the African-American experience comforted me and connected with me in a way that animation or many forms of artistic media as a whole never had before. It was a cultural reset for me, and many other little girls like me. It introduced me to the world of animation and showed me that people like me could be a part of the process.

Being the child of a single parent household wasn't all that odd in my community, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I was in awe of the nuclear families on TV, and their shiny, blindingly white teeth, freshly-starched clothes, and most importantly, two parents who always seemed to be able to drop anything they were doing for their kids. Being the eldest daughter of a single mother in a low-income household has been hard, but every hardship, every disappointment, and every failure has made me a better student, sister, daughter, artist, and person in general. Because my mother wasn't able to be there for me as much as I would have liked, I developed a sense of independence very early on in my life, in nearly every aspect of my life, including my education. My mom worked long midnight shifts for a lot of my early school career, and later on, had frequent meetings, meaning I couldn't go to her for help as much as I would've liked. She often couldn't make it to my school events or was too tired to do so. It saddened me, but I know that everything she did was to improve my quality of life, even if as a young child at the time I couldn't understand or sympathize with it. As a result, I learned how to scour the internet to find what I needed, so I could teach myself how to do anything I needed. In addition, I had a strong support system in my friends, other family members, and especially my grandmother. Even if they couldn't help me with my work, or provide me with all the answers I felt I needed to succeed, just knowing that they were there for me as much as they could be was enough. I grew up in a small urban community, where there were a lot of kids, and not a lot to do. When COVID happened, I watched a lot of businesses I had watched develop and flourish over the years shut down without a second thought, and I felt hopeless as I moved from place to place while also trying to juggle starting high school completely virtually, a dwindling social life, and anxiety fueled by my own fear of failure and the fear that maybe things would never ever be normal again. Despite all this, over the pandemic, I developed a deep passion that I think saved my life. I had always loved drawing and art, but over the pandemic, I really had to reevaluate what was important to me and what exactly it was that I wanted to do with my life and talents. I had an opportunity to work with a nonprofit organization where I made art for other nonprofits, and also work hands-on with kids doing arts and crafts, and, in all honesty, it was exactly what I needed. It allowed me to get paid doing something I loved, and to introduce that same thing to other kids younger than me. I want to do that same thing for my community. I want to allow kids the opportunity to discover art as a possible passion, and to explore being creative as an outlet for their own anxieties and positive feelings alike. Art saved me, and if I could help save one other kid like me, that would make everything worth it.

Art is used to heal the soul. As an artist, I can tell anybody firsthand how creating, in any sense of the word, can be extremely reinvigorating and energizing. Everybody has their favorite type, and mines just so happens to be animation. So much so, that I'm pursuing a Bachelor's degree in animation in college. How would I use a degree in animation to help improve the health of minorities? My work would hopefully help improve the livelihoods of minorities not unlike myself, in the mental sense. When people view my work, I want them to be inspired. I want them to feel every emotion I felt while creating, to see themselves in my work, and maybe inspire them to create something for themselves. Although an art degree isn't as obvious in its' pursuit of healing as some of the other STEAM degrees, I think it's just as important and necessary, and maybe in some cases, a bit more. Animation is so very important because, to me, it weaves a tapestry in the form of a story. At the heart of every good piece of animation, is somebody's story, and those stories can be used to help people. At some of the lowest points of my life, nothing could compare to the feelings I had seeing stories I could relate to, expressed in the medium of animation, where anything was possible, even for somebody who looks like I do. I fell deeply in love with the art form, and seeing people like me in the animation industry telling their respective stories is like a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there is beauty and wisdom to be found in everything and everyone, that every person on this planet has a story or two to share, and realizing that that in itself is a form of healing. I'm going to art school and pursuing animation as a career, to give that experience to other people like me, who find the most relief from the stress and anxieties of the real world in fictitious worlds. I want to help provide a safe space for people to step back from whatever is affecting them negatively in life, whether that be physical, mental, or emotional, and immerse themselves into a world of my creation. Sometimes, a little time away from what's bothering us results in us finding health and healing in ways and places we might not expect.

Feminism, to me, is the fight to have equal rights for women and feminine-presenting people of every shade, age, sexuality, gender expression, and denomination, everywhere. It's important because every human born on this earth deserves an equal opportunity to succeed. Even in a society where men are often deemed more important and useful in every sense of the word. Feminism, when you boil it down, is the belief that no matter what you were born as, and what you choose to present as, you deserve just as much of a say as anybody else. Feminism is a movement that spans decades, and as such, I have many, many inspirations. But if I had to pick three, it would definitely come down to Angela Davis and Frida Kahlo. Angela speaks to the path I've been given as a Black woman, combined with the very necessary Black radicalism, and subsequent Black feminism, which introduced me to the idea of the intersectionality of my identity as both a black person in America, and a woman in America, and why fighting for the justice of both is so important for me, and others like me. To this day, she remains one of my biggest inspirations. Frida Kahlo speaks to the path I've chosen as a female, queer artist of color. Her works provide insight into her mind, and they explore her personal identity and beliefs in a visual medium that stands to be iconic and timeless even to this day. She took aspects of herself that others might have shied away from, like her monobrow, and enhanced them, which to me spoke volumes to not only self-love for herself (and by extension, me for myself), but also the inherent truth that body hair, or lack thereof, or any other physical indicator, does not make somebody more or less of a woman. How am I contributing to the feminist movement? I've thought long and hard about how to answer that question, and after some insight from an art teacher of mine, I came to a realization. I contribute to the feminist movement in my community by simply existing as I am. Over the last four years, I’ve developed into a person that I am so very proud. I’m vice president of my student council, I have a steady social media presence for my artwork, I’ve have the opportunity to have a few of my pieces in a museum, and hopefully, I’ll be the first daughter out of my family to go, and complete college. Although for one reason or another I haven’t had the opportunities to march in protests, I’ve shared information around online, and I continue to support the feminist movement, even if all I can do is continue to be the best and most honest version of myself I can be for those who could and can not

Being the child of a single parent household wasn't all that odd in my community, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. I was in awe of the nuclear families on TV, and their shiny, blindingly white teeth, freshly-starched clothes, and most importantly, two parents who always seemed to be able to drop anything they were doing for their kids. Being the eldest daughter of a single mother in a low-income household has been hard, but every hardship, every disappointment, and every failure has made me a better student, sister, daughter, artist, and person in general. Every time I couldn't go over to a friend's because I had to babysit, or every time I had to spend my own money because I knew my brothers needed it more than I ever would, it taught me something. Although my life hasn't been as easy as I would've liked, I wouldn't change it for the world. When you're really young, you don't really understand why you can't have everyhting you want. My mom has three children, and as the eldest, I felt robbed of what I felt I should've had. I looked around at my friends and other family members, and I was angry. Why did my mom have to work midnight shifts every day? Why couldn't she take me to the park, or Chuck E Cheese, or later on, the mall and movies? Why did I have to watch over my brothers? Life wasn't fair, and now that I'm older, I realize that that's okay. Life is full of ups and downs, and sometimes, no matter how badly I or my mother wanted, we can't always have everything we want. My mother couldn't have been with me as much as I wanted, or felt like I needed, but I know she loved me and my brothers in her own special ways. I see it now, in the Coney Island breakfasts she would bring us as soon as she got off, or in the matching outfits she got herself and me for Christmas. I was there for my mother just as much as she was there for me, and the two of us growing together taught me a lot, much of which I still carry with me to this day. I learned to cook, clean, and care for others, sometimes much more than I cared for myself. Though at first, admittedly, I was bitter because I didn't have everything I wanted, no amount of trips to the mall or glittery arcade trinkets meant more to me than the sight of my brother's faces lighting up when I surprise them with snacks or gifts, or my hardworking mother being able to have nice things. I learned a lot from being born into a low-income, single parent, African-American household, but I think the most important of these is the ability to be unselfish and put others before myself, and I think that's an important lesson for anyone to learn.

Part of being human is being creative, and without creativity, we would have nothing. Everything we see around us was created by people who used their natural creativity to change the world around them. I value my creativity above all because it helps me look at things from a different perspective. It allows me to see the beauty in everything, from the coil of my dark ebony hair to the flow of the wind in the trees. It gives me a place to showcase who I am as a human being, why I do what I do, and express my thoughts and feelings better than I could ever think of expressing verbally. Being in high school has been one of the most difficult times in my life, and not for the reason you might think. I've never struggled in school academically, and my mother and grandmother have always been there to help me academically, but high school marked a turning point in my life. My family struggled financially, a global pandemic knocked me onto my feet freshman year, and suddenly, everything I knew was gone. I grieved, but I found solace in drawing, painting, and absolutely anything else I could get my hands on. Not only was my art and creativity used as a distraction, but they became an outlet. I shared my grief in every piece, and when I had no more grief to give, I shared other things. I even had the opportunity to have a few of my pieces in a museum! My hopes, and dreams were reflected in the shapes and colors, and although things weren't the best at that exact moment, I had never felt more connected to myself. My life journey is innately connected to my identity as a Black woman, and my choice to enter the art field, which unfortunately doesn't traditionally favor people of color, or women, and especially not both. Despite this, I've seen some of the most creative pieces of media and art from people who looked just like me. People with backgrounds similar to my own found ways to cope with the trauma of being hated for simply existing by tapping into their creativity. Beautiful music, movies, paintings, and more sprung not from the need to conform, but from the idea that every aspect of our identity and our creativity combined can come together to make something that invokes joy. My creativity allows me to do the same, and hopefully help other little girls or boys who realize just how important allowing themselves to be creative is. Despite all of my flaws, and every difficult thing I've had to go through, I still am so very grateful for my creativity and the creativity of those around me. It has allowed me to put myself in the shoes of others, while simultaneously expressing my own values and ideas. Without cultivating my creativity, and seeing others doing the same, I'm not sure where I would be. It has allowed me so many opportunities, and I know that it'll continue guiding me along my path.

My name is Amara Middlebrooks, and before all else, I am a Black, female creative. Knowing this and recognizing each aspect of my identity is imperative in understanding exactly who I am, and why I do what I do. As both a woman and a person of color, representation in most fields and careers is severely lacking. This includes every aspect of the entertainment industry and is especially true for the particular field that I plan on going into; the animation industry. Only 20-30 percent of women hold jobs in the animation industry in the United States, despite making up the majority of animation majors and art college students as a whole. Black people account for only around 4 percent of American animators. Both blatant and sometimes more subtle racial stereotypes and sexist beliefs and practices make up a large sum of Western animation's history. The effects of the periods of history in which they weren't represented accurately, or at all, are still felt and reflected upon even today. Both African-Americans and women (and female-presenting people) are often underrepresented in animation spaces, and their cultures and individual voices are both insanely underutilized, underappreciated, and exploited all at the same time. I want to change that, and bring about the representation and change that I want to see. Pursuing a career in animation, which is something I'm extremely passionate about, is the first step in being that change. I will probably never forget my mom bringing home the DVD version of Disney's Princess and the Frog for my brothers and me back in 2010. To put it simply, it changed my life forever. I saw myself, my mother, my grandmother, and all those like us who had come before shown in every aspect of Tiana, in a way I couldn't visualize in princesses like Ariel or Belle. The themes of family, love (in the platonic and romantic sense), and perseverance, especially represented through the lens of the African-American experience comforted me in a way that animation or many forms of media as a whole never had before. It was a cultural reset for me, and many other little girls like me. It introduced me to the world of animation and showed me that people like me could be a part of the process. Animation is a beautiful art form, and I am pursuing a career to inspire other creatives with similar backgrounds. I do what I do to make myself, my family, and the people who might not have the opportunities I have, proud.