If I were to be sorted into a Hogwarts hat; being mixed race growing up (Black and White). I always identified with Gryffindor. I am the first born child of my mom; and my parents first and only daughter of 7 children. Due to my family having a heavy black culture and a heavily involved white culture on both sides of my parents, I’ve always been a tugging rope. Harry was someone who was disowned by his family, and although I was by no means abandoned- almost the opposite, very loved on both sides- Harry Potter introduced me to a realization that not all family dynamics are what they seem to be on the outside. So I very much resonated with him. When I watched juvenile cartoons as a child I saw perfect families with impeccable family dynamics. No ill speech when talking of children, always having a huge platter of breakfast, kids not being aware of family drama. And although I fully recognize that no child should have to witness unhealthy feud in the household, it was almost refreshing to watch a child deal with real life hardships of feeling left out, misunderstood and having to represent the entire family. Being the first mixed child in my family was a huge deal for us. Growing up I remember meeting relatives for the first time and being greeted to, “Is Aniya here?” And it is a beautiful thing that I had so much family support and curiosity around my birth. But I very much so resonated with the feelings that Harry felt when it seemed like he stepped into a world where he was famous to the close people around him, and he couldn’t exactly pin point why. The house of Gryffindor in Harry a sense of belonging and understanding after he met his friends and bonded with them over to the next several years. He found a home within his friends and community and was able to form a name and respect for himself through the guidance of others, meanwhile paving the pay and pushing greatness and success into his friends. I felt this way as I found community within my brothers and cousins as they also understood my experience as a mixed race child between two families. I was able to grow and get over an awkward feeling, and find a sense of community and belonging within my family.

My experience with mental health has influenced my beliefs, relationships and career aspirations in many ways throughout my life and upbringing. Now, going to college I reflect on my mentality in the past and understand that I am capable of growth and closure from the past. As a child I’ve always been exposed to severe mental health concerns, but they are always put on the back burner. There were days, weeks, and even months where my parents did not go to work and support us or themselves; because of their high levels of depression and anxiety. I would watch as they layed in bed worried about the future and how they were going to fix it. I always knew that this was not okay even for my young age, and would get the most tragic feeling of despair and hopelessness in the pit of my stomach when I would see them at the state. As I got older, I realized that it was vital for me to seek mental health counseling, in order to make change for my future generations. I now see a therapist weekly, and realize that no matter what struggles you may be going through, or the adversities that the people around me face, therapy strives towards the sense of overall contenness and well being. This is a basic resource and feeling that we should all have. Through my relationships, I realize that by talking to a medical health professional, Individuals will get a new insight into how you can change and grow. In the end, this will make you a better partner, and well rounded individual. When I was in a relationship and not receiving mental health counseling, I was not able to see my issues of codependency and over sharing. I believed that because my past partner and I supported each other so deeply; as to share our issues with each other, that we were not harming one another- but becoming better partners. Not only was I wrong in this case, but we were hurting each other emotionally and mentally. In my situation, instead of being an open listener to each other‘s problems, we were both burdened with anxiety and worries of how to fix the situation when we had no means or tools to do so. This was mentally exhausting for two teenagers to try to figure out by ourselves. When I think about that relationship and how we both thought we were doing the right thing for each other by oversharing our darkest emotions and family affairs, I hurt for those two people that simply wanted to help each other. I know that with proper counseling and therapy I have come a tremendously long way in healing and understanding boundaries when it comes to mental health communication and conversation. My career aspirations through journalism are to hear other stories and be a listening and reporting ear for human struggles. Everyone wants to be heard and seen. However, through more therapy and education on Journalism, I will be able to attain this dream the safe way with regulars to my mental health. Through my work as a reporter and journalist, I seek to give validation to those who don’t have their story heard, and to those who need a platform speak the truth.

Through journalism, I plan to make a positive impact on the world by letting people showcase their triumphs, accomplishes, and journeys with my work. Through writing and reporting, I am able to connect and empathize with those of all different cultures, backgrounds, and ways of life. As a career, I want to be a news reporter and journalist! Listening to others stories and giving them the light they need is my passion. With my career, I would be able to spread awareness on topics and stories that are not heard by others. Even simply giving someone a platform for people to listen is healing and validating for the individual that needs the spotlight. On the receiving side of a reporting and listening interaction, I would also be able to create a positive impact by letting all generations in on what is current, and what battles people are going through. Aside from being an aspiring news reporter, I am a humanitarian. I seek to promote human welfare through my social science career, and lead a progressive future for individuals to be informed and sympathetic to those around them! The study of human relationships is especially interesting to myself, as I understand relationships vary based on a plethora of factors. Living in an urban environment may foster a sense of community that living in the country side may not! Being homeschooled may have specific trends that those who went to private school may never practice. Exploring and understanding these relationships and natures are what drive me to learn more about communications and lifestyle. Humans in their core all seek and desire the same handful of factors- Guidance, attention, love and nurturing- No matter what lives we have lived as individuals, we are a unit as a human race. Setting goals to achieve a sense of content and accomplishment; the desire to have a social network of others to depend on- These are aspects found in human nature that are undeniable and ever repeating when assessing trials on a wide scale of means. Coming to an understanding that we as humans are all equal and deserving of a voice, is what my true mission is as an aspiring Journalist in the social sciences field. Humans and interactions are full of dimension and language. Through my career, I will study the language that is human society and social relationships to make a positive impact on society.

Being a child of a single mother has impacted my ability to empathize with others and understand that some struggles are fought in silence. When I turned eighteen years old, I did not realize that I would come to see the world with an entirely new scope and appreciation for my mother‘s hard work and dedication. She would be nineteen years old when she had her first child, me. As an independent student, I ran away from home due to family affairs in highschool- Now I progress onto college. I now navigate the world asking my own questions, coming to an understanding on my own conclusions, and judging situations by putting myself in their shoes as well as the judgment of my personal opinion. My mother and I have not always understood each other, or put each other in our own shoes. This is what blindsided me from acknowledging the sacrifices that she had made, even if I did not agree with the means she had come to them on. Almost growing up together; because of the small age gap- I look back on our trial and errors and understand that it is my mothers first time being my mother, as easy as it is for me to blame my mistakes on puberty and misunderstanding. Mothers deserve the space to grow and learn from each child. Being my sole emotional provider growing up, my mother faced the burden of being two parents for me, while she had no adult by her side giving her the support of one. I could not imagine raising a child. The absolute love and devoted attention she poured into my childhood deserved endless recognition. From making sure I was able to play the flute in third grade while she skipped out on parties with her friends. Her youth, became my youth. Her love, became my love. What inspires me most about my mother is that she gave me the time to grow and think when I ran away. Of course, in the beginning she assured me she wanted me back home; but in the end both knew we did need the space from each other, and she respected that. It has now been a year since I’ve left home, and I cannot imagine life any other way. My mother is one of the strongest people I know, hurdling herself through obstacles that I cannot even fathom to dream of. Because of the trial and error I have gone through in my life, I am strong, independent and make my way through life with a sense of determination and will. I know that I can accomplish anything I put myself out to achieve. This is because of my mom, and what we have accomplished together.

Growing up, I was conditioned to navigate the world with an overwhelming sense of independence. Pursuing my dream of college would finally put my mindset of dedication to education to use. Although I will not be pursuing art as a major in college because of the financial instability, I am more than excited to pursue art in college through clubs, connections and activities. Education is about ensuring stability for me. From saving my own money to buy my own art supplies, to purchasing my first iPad when I was eight years old with Christmas money. Art and music have always been an undoubtedly calming and creative sanctuary for me to express my feelings about not only the problems that I was going through- but as an expression of how I viewed others in their triumph and success. Art and drawing have always been a release for me in the form of communication and understanding. My aunt has always been my biggest supporter. My mother and my father were always wrapped up in their own drama and dilemmas. Although they wanted to give me the attention I needed, it was never provided. My aunt never lacked in this area. From taking me to Boston to see history and architecture, and printing out my art and writings to keep in her home- the pure dedication and love was a gift and acknowledgment of the work I had put into my own pieces. She was a reflection of the beauty that I’d tried so hard to express and replicate. Today, I draw digital self portraits for anyone who asks at no cost. For me, art is a form of life, love and appreciation. A smile, or a heartfelt “Thank you”, is more than enough in exchange for my commitment to a piece of art. I created my digital art account in the middle of covid, drawing my close friends, family, and followers. As I bloom out of the time of struggle and appreciation, so did my artwork. I am a strong believer in what you give out see you then receive back. With this I have received donation and commission from artists, singers, social media personalities and friends because of my artwork and their appreciation for my message and expression of creativity. I will always continue to draw, as much as I continue to love. My Muse and inspiration for artwork are those around me and the love that binds life and art together. I give a huge appreciation to my parents for teaching me to navigate with independence, Love, charity, and a strong will for change in my community. A huge appreciation to my aunt, Didi, for showing me that all of my work has a purpose and is appreciated. All change happens at a small scale, and I would love to branch out my small business in the future to impact more lives, and create more art! Although I love art, education is important to me because I know it will ensure that I have a stable career and will have the funds to support my lifestyle!

My name is Aniya Joan Pouncey. I am the daughter of seven brothers- all whose name start with J. I am my mothers first child, my father‘s first daughter. My mother, a teenager when she had me, was going through labor while my father was a state away. Struggling and going through this pregnancy emotionally alone, it was no surprise to my mother that my father would not be able to make it to the hospital for my delivery date. With no vehicle to bring her to the hospital herself, she got to the nearest city bus as she felt the contractions rise and rise. My mother still had my aunt to support her in the delivery room and made it in time to cut my umbilical cord. My father, rushing back to Connecticut would enter the door not a half an hour after my mothers push. My name had not been decided yet, but she had a few ideas in the back of her head. My father promised his sister with infertility issues, that his first daughter would be named after her; Joanne. However, every family has their own drama. My mother and my aunt had never gotten along, and my mother could not bring herself to commit to the promise he made to his sister many years ago. They come to a compromise and made my middle name Joan. My mother states that this would have been my first name if my father had been more responsible and at the hospital on time! Although it was not Joanne entirely, my father side of the family calls me Joanne, and my mother side calls me Joan. When people ask me what my middle name is I just shrug and explain the story of my middle name. As for my first name, it was my mothers choice and hers only. She pushed alone and decided it was her right to name me alone. And so I became Aniya. I was her first, so she started her own tradition that all of the daughters in the family’s name what start with ”A”. In the event that I was her only daughter, she wanted my name to end with an a. As she foresaw, out of all seven kids I am the only daughter and child who’s name starts with an A, to a family of Joseph, Joshua, Jace, Julius, Josiah, and Jeremiah. When I was younger, I struggled with the idea of being the oddball in my family. As I became older, I’ve grown to appreciate and embrace individuality of my name! This is the story of Aniya Joan.

In my community, having food sensitivity and allergy was made out to be a problem that only the upper class were able to face. Whenever sleeping over friends house or going to my cousins for the day, having a food allergy would be seen as a nuisance that I could control. With some people brushing off the severity of my allergies, they will make it a point to test this “Doctor Proven” theory for themselves. It would come to offering me a “great” dish with only a little bit of milk, or the so-called tiniest piece of cheese. In my childhood I didn’t know better than to take what was given to me by these adults or children, and ended up suffering the consequences. Being severely lactose intolerant has taught me independence and advocating for myself at a very young age. When granola bars were being passed out at field trips, I’ll be the first to raise my hand and say “Hey, is there anything else that we have?”. I now understand that sometimes accommodations are not always able to be made. However through my self advocation journey, I’ve noticed this- Most of the time, if you speak up for yourself before-hand or even at the spur of the moment, people are not out to question you. Humans innately want to help and are usually more than happy to help you acquire the means you need to be successful. I’ve learned to ask for help and even the most “minor” situations. If I am sitting under a vent at school, I’ll ask to move now, instead of feeling like a burden for wanting my needs accommodated. This scholarship will assist me to reaching my goals, as being lactose intolerant has taught me an empathy and understanding for humans and our ability to help and communicate. While majoring at Central Connecticut State University in journalism, I’ll be exposed to a variety of new people from all walks of life. Adversity effects everyone. I have learned not to judge, because the person next to you could be facing trial and issues that you’ve never even thought about. If there’s a simple way that I can help my neighbor, I am all for it- because so many people have stepped up and made accommodations to help me in this life. Telling and reporting on other stories is my passion! Because of my food sensitivity and interactions with others, I have became a more accepting and well rounded individual. I understand that food allergy takes no color, race or tax bracket. Everyone will go through their own hiccups in life- it’s about how you deal and overcome them that show your true colors.

“LIVE AS IF YOU WERE TO DIE TOMORROW. LEARN AS IF YOU WERE TO LIVE FOREVER.” ―MAHATMA GANDHI. Mahatma Gandhi has been my absolute muse ever since I learned he was vegetarian. Until that point I had never heard of a historian that stood up against animal abuse. All of the heros were about war, politics, and human rights. I’ve learned you can always educate, no matter how small you think your problem is. For as long as I can remember, I have been compassionate and curious. I'm always thinking of new ways to help and support what I care about. This means listening to my friends, volunteering for my community, or advocating for the environment. The bigger picture is love, and caring for one another. I motivate others by teaching them what I know, but remembering to push myself is just as important. I can always do this as long as I take time to enhance my own knowledge. Once I started becoming more aware of the harm we are inflicting onto animals, it sparked a chain- The planet, our communities, eachother. It made me wonder, what could I do about this. Little did I know that it would be a simple question, that would change my perspective on how I view the way our society thinks. I started to wonder, explore and learn. I know with more questions others ask, the more it will drive me to think of new ways to surprise my family, and peers. When they ask, “Why do you carry around a bamboo fork?” Or “Why don’t you eat animals?” I say “Here’s why” and teach them what I know, expecting them to tell others. This curiosity shows me with every positive motivation, another will follow. For this reason, I would like to thank you for giving me the opportunity to apply for Society of Young Scholars. As I know this will lead to even greater opportunities.

Make a positive impact on the world through my career by being a voice for those who are not able to speak for themselves, I don’t have the platform to get their story ideas and feelings out there. Throughout college I plan to pursue a career with journalism and use that to write articles and report on the news. Misfortune Has impacted my life tremendously, through breast tumors, running away, not understanding myself, and not understanding my emotions enough to express them to others. My entire life, throughout writing I’ve been able to express myself and being voice for myself as well as others. Through words, empathy and understanding I have found a way to shed a light on not only my skill set but on the problems that others may be facing that deserves sympathy invoice. It would be an honor to live this dream by finishing my studies at Central Connecticut State University with my bachelors degree in journalism. In order to pursue this dream I’ll have to financially support myself as an independent student. The money from the scholarship would be a huge blessing and help to my message and advocacy on human rights, storytelling, empathy and understanding.

“Maybe it’s from all the chicken and processed food you teens eat, I don't know; but you’re far too young for this.” I let the OBG-YN babble on about her conspiracy theories of the fast food industry, regarding my breast tumor. Emergency surgery, needle biopsy, family history and 97 missing assignments. In the midsts, there's only one thing I could think about. The chicken comment from earlier irritated me. I’d looked at my mother pointedly- I’m vegan. You’d never realize the sheer amount of people involved in your life until you need help. They come out of nowhere like a pimple on picture day- like a diagnosis on a sunday afternoon. In silence, I secretly thought the exposure to Daddy’s drugs on the kitchen counter contributed to my tumor. I couldn’t tell the doctor that. Masked up, sitting on the scratchy hospital paper; I was tired. Two hot summers at the local farm tired, $8.79 an hour tired. Benjamins became meaningless, they were for Mommy’s bondsman. Cigarettes causing house fires, and a burning desire to do something in my sedulous life. Maybe in another life I’ll be the daughter of a celebrity, or healthy. Imagination has always distracted me from the helplessness, but I can't ever let it distract me from reality. Right now I am alone, sick and surrounded by the uncertainty that is my life. We have little time to act. I am signing an agreement that says if I die it’s not the surgeon's fault. I know that everything will follow accordingly. In tribute, I visited my friend 109.85 miles away. because I’d made a spiel; if complications occur I wanted to meet her. My morals felt a bit hypocritical. Although I was secure in the trajectory of this surgery, I’d crossed my fingers in an attempt not to jinx the prognosis. Only after the surgery would we know if the tumor was benign. I like hospitals anyways- the slushies, food, a quiet room, flowers. I’m perfectly willing to stay alive for lilacs and strawberry ice, but that would all live in my imagination. Due to the Pandemic’s high demand; one hospital day, no visitors. Well, that's Twenty-four hours of peace and quiet. Coming from a family of six brothers, there was no such concept. I suddenly prayed, thankful that I felt the ball in my chest. That I had a car to drive to the hospital, that I had the awareness and education knowing something felt wrong. In another life my friends come to visit me in the hospital room. I live there for three weeks as opposed to this... house arrest, that would be nice- but what would they feed me? Surely there's no veggie nuggets at the New Britain General. I smile, satisfied to open my fridge and see green dinosaurs smiling back at me. It’s not everyday that the fridge is full. One week later, It’s 5 a.m. and my veins are too small for the nurse to take any blood. She shrugged and giggled. A nervous face, exhausted eyes meeting hers. She diverts, “Oh, it's nothing- just you’d be a horrible blood donor when you’re older”. I was so amused from the sheer stupidity of social cues that I didn't feel the needles go in. The anesthesiologist put me down, and I woke up to a little brown line that would stay with me forever. You’ve heard the term silver lining; I have a brown lining. There's a 2.3 inch scar under my right arm, a little shifted to the left but hidden in the crease of my armpit. In my hospital room, I realized this was more than a scar. It was my pain, my optimism, my laugh. Everything I’ve ever been through, and everything I will ever go through, I will always have a brown line. It was a little brown lining that saved my life. Overcoming these challenges, I would all love to work and environment helping children in compromised homes or dealing with mental anguish to to physical disability, and/or sickness. Because I understand how it feels to be defeated by your own health, I want to help those who are in need especially in youth. It is my dream to pursue journalism or social work in college and attempt to be a voice for those who cannot carry it out themselves. I have excelled in writing and putting triumphs into words for people to empathize and understand. I would love to pursue this is a career, or be an understanding person with empathy for someone who needs it.

“Maybe it’s from all the chicken and processed food you teens eat, I don't know; but you’re far too young for this.” I let the OBG-YN babble on about her conspiracy theories of the fast food industry, regarding my breast tumor. Emergency surgery, needle biopsy, family history and 97 missing assignments. You’d never realize the sheer amount of people involved in your life until you need help. They come out of nowhere like a pimple on picture day- like a diagnosis on a sunday afternoon. Masked up, sitting on the scratchy hospital paper; I was tired. Two hot summers at the local farm tired, $8.79 an hour tired. Benjamins became meaningless, they were for Mommy’s bondsman. Cigarettes causing house fires, and a burning desire to do something in my sedulous life. Maybe in another life I’ll be the daughter of a celebrity, or healthy. Imagination has always distracted me from the helplessness, but I can't ever let it distract me from reality. Right now I am alone, sick and surrounded by the uncertainty that is my life. We have little time to act. I am signing an agreement that says if I die it’s not the surgeon's fault. I know that everything will follow accordingly. In tribute, I visited my friend 109.85 miles away. because I’d made a spiel; if complications occur I wanted to meet her. My morals felt a bit hypocritical. Although I was secure in the trajectory of this surgery, I’d crossed my fingers in an attempt not to jinx the prognosis. Only after the surgery would we know if the tumor was benign. I like hospitals anyways- the slushies, food, a quiet room, flowers. I’m perfectly willing to stay alive for lilacs and strawberry ice, but that would all live in my imagination. Due to the Pandemic’s high demand; one hospital day, no visitors. Well, that's Twenty-four hours of peace and quiet. Coming from a family of six brothers, there was no such concept. I suddenly prayed, thankful that I felt the ball in my chest. That I had a car to drive to the hospital, that I had the awareness and education knowing something felt wrong. In another life my friends come to visit me in the hospital room. I live there for three weeks as opposed to this... house arrest, that would be nice- but what would they feed me? Surely there's no veggie nuggets at the New Britain General. I smile, satisfied to open my fridge and see green dinosaurs smiling back at me. It’s not everyday that the fridge is full. One week later, It’s 5 a.m. and my veins are too small for the nurse to take any blood. She shrugged and giggled. A nervous face, exhausted eyes meeting hers. She diverts, “Oh, it's nothing- just you’d be a horrible blood donor when you’re older”. I was so amused from the sheer stupidity of social cues that I didn't feel the needles go in. The anesthesiologist put me down, and I woke up to a little brown line that would stay with me forever. You’ve heard the term silver lining; I have a brown lining. There's a 2.3 inch scar under my right arm, a little shifted to the left but hidden in the crease of my armpit. In my hospital room, I realized this was more than a scar. It was my pain, my optimism, my laugh. Everything I’ve ever been through, and everything I will ever go through, I will always have a brown line. It was a little brown lining that saved my life.

Growing up, I was conditioned to navigate the world with an overwhelming sense of independence. From saving my own money to buy my own art supplies, to bag my first iPad when I was eight years old with my Christmas money. Art and music have always been and undoubtedly calming and creative sanctuary for me to express my feelings about not only the problems that I was going through- but as an expression of how I feud others in their triumph and success. Art and drawing have always been a release for me in the form of communication and understanding. My aunt has always been my biggest supporter. My mother and my father were always wrapped up in their own trauma and dilemmas, although they wanted to give me the attention I needed it was never provided. My aunt was an amazing provider in this area. From coming to middle school art galas, and making an effort to view my highschool music shows- the pure dedication and love was a gift and acknowledgment of the work I had put in to my own pieces. She was a reflection of the beauty that I’d tried to hard to express and replicate. Today, I draw digital self portraits for anyone who asks at no cost. For me, art is a form of life, love and appreciation. A smile, or a heartfelt “Thank you”, is more than enough in exchange for my commitment to a piece of art. I created my digital art account in the middle of covid, drawing my close friends, family, and followers. As I bloom out of the time of struggle and appreciation, so did my artwork. I am a strong believer in what you give out see you then receive back. With this I have received donation and commission from artists singers social media personalities and friends because of my artwork and their appreciation for my message and expression of creativity. I will always continue to draw, as much as I continue to love. My Muse and inspiration for artwork are those around me and the love that binds life and art together. I give a huge appreciation to my parents for teaching me it’s not the gate with independence, Love, charity, and a strong will for change in my community. All change happens at a small scale, and I would love to branch out my small business in the future to impact more lives, and create more art!

Golfing has been an experience that has changed my life in many ways. Being a young woman of color, I quickly faced a mental block of “Am I good enough to be here?”, “Will I be judged?”, “Will my peers view my differently?”. When addressing these questions to a sport, you would think the answer be straightforward and telling- No one will judge you for hitting a little white ball with a stick. You’d be entirely wrong. Golfing is a sport of connections, wealth and culture. There is an unspoken etiquette of how to behave, look, and play when stepping on to the greens. I started golfing my junior year of high school. Most people in my school did not even know there was a golf team at New Britain High School. Home to immigrants, diversity and poverty. What is a golf team doing inside of the walls of a degeneration? I’d joined in an effort of upgrading my status, and self confidence. So many; too many people had seen the students within my school as reckless , carefree, destructive and uncultivated. It was time to end this stigma. I asked nearly everyone who I’d known if they’d like to join a team of excellence and purpose. In the midst of a global pandemic, the numbers were small. We were a mighty team of 5 girls. With practice, purpose, dedication, and a will to change the stigma around the elite and golfing, we started the girls golf team after hiatus at our school. That year we won not one match, but every single game I’d come to laugh, learn, and make at least two friends and save their numbers. A year later, we came back together and all joined the team as seniors, recruiting so many girls that we started rotations and had to unfortunately deny students positions on the team. As captain of the junior varsity girls, I was able to inspire 10’s of African American and Asian women to our team, and introduce to them a new world of connection, network and opportunity that they had never seen before. With hard work and dedication, we won our first match as a newly established team. Golfing is a hobby I will continue to pursue, and will continue to always motivate young girls, and people of color to experience. With the new year comes a new season, where I will now pursue my love of golf as an assistant coach to the team I was formally apprehensive, yet eager to join!