If there is only one thing that I can do in this lifetime, I want my musical teachings and playing to inspire exposure, reflection, and healing throughout less fortunate communities. Having been on this musical journey for more than a decade now, I’ve come to notice one common misfortune: pursuing your passions is a privilege not afforded to everyone. We like to think that this is a right that anyone can pursue, but unfortunately, that’s just not the reality for a lot of people. This goes double for people in underprivileged communities. They’re often met with choosing between following their hearts’ passions or making a stable life for themselves. The question is, why does this have to be their reality? How is it that it’s okay to look at one person and say they’re not deserving because of personal circumstances? I say it shouldn’t have to be this way. We’re all on this planet to do one thing and that’s make an enjoyable, sustainable life for ourselves, our loved ones, and our communities. With the help of my saxophones, I want to help foster this idea by performing and showing the final product of someone who has often had to choose between passion and stability. I want to try to touch at least one person in each one of my audiences by bringing forth any hidden, raw emotions. Every time I play, I seek to share this vulnerable part of myself that speaks volume to my story. So far, it’s been working. One comment that has been consistent throughout the years is the amount of emotion that’s illuminated through my playing. I know personally how music is often a form of expression and therapy for those who don’t otherwise have a voice. By continuing to share this part of myself, I hope to give light to those often deemed the “underdogs” of society.

August 16th, 2017 was a day that will forever leave its mark on me. The Albany State University campus captured some beautiful snapshots of that day. Everyone was cozily settling into their dorms. The campus layout finally became familiar to everyone. Most of them moved eagerly towards class, ready to see what the day had in store. Everything was happy, positive, and bright. All except me of course. Instead of enjoying what was supposed to be the most exciting day of my life, I dragged myself towards the dorms preparing to leave. I had been filled with stress and anxiety for days. All the hope and eagerness I had for this new beginning, a new life, had vanished. Why me, I thought. I had done everything I needed to- kept a 4.0 average, graduated third in the class, took on leadership roles in the classroom and in band. Yet somehow, I still found myself in a hole. Family couldn’t afford to help. I had nothing saved. I felt like I let myself, family, and those who looked up to me down. I was supposed to be the one to “make it out.” How could I face them now? Unfortunately, being the product of poverty took hold of the steering wheel. It was on this day that I had to drop out of college. Now, almost five years later, I would say this was the best thing to happen to me and my greatest achievement. So, how in the world could be this my greatest achievement? While I didn’t see it this way years ago, leaving school was the first step in taking initiative in my own life. I wasn’t doing the things that I felt were right for me at the time. I was instead following a path that had already been laid out for me by my teachers, family, and society. “You better head off to college with those grades” was a phrase often preached to me. At the same time, I pushed aside so many issues that I knew would give me trouble during college. I had absolutely no money saved up. Gender dysphoria only got worse when I stepped foot on campus and realized I wasn’t presenting myself the way I wanted to be seen. My mental health was in horrible shape and only got worse. I hadn’t done any research on the college I accepted a full-ride scholarship from. I was in such a hurry to make everyone else happy and fulfill their expectations that I neglected to take care of the one person who mattered most: me. Because of this one decision, I came to discover so much about myself. Going through that experience made me learn so many things about myself. I saw that I needed to start giving myself permission to walk a jagged line. The path that I decide to walk on this journey is up to me, not anyone else. This definitely led me to discover the beauty that is implementing boundaries within life. I finally got to a point where I told myself, “It’s okay to put your own needs first.” Most importantly, this experience made me realize that I needed to know that it was okay to ask for help. I didn’t have to suffer in silence and there would be many people along the way who would be happy to help. Leaving school ignited a spark within me so fierce and ready for change. I knew it was time and couldn’t do it alone, which inspired me to book my first therapy appointment not long after leaving school. Soon after, I got a job to help me save up to get back to school, much more prepared than previously. When I walked onto ABAC’s campus that following fall, I was in a much better headspace and I knew this time around, things would be different. Now, I’m two semesters away from graduating with my bachelor’s and teaching certification in Music Education. By sharing my story, I hope to be able to provide this same clarity and reassurance for kids out there who feel or felt like I did. The culture surrounding poverty makes us who are trapped in it feel as though chasing our dreams isn’t possible. It tells us that we’re supposed to pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and suffer in silence. I want to help change this mindset. It’s not about where you’ve been, but definitely more about where you’re going.