I am Antonella Mendoza and I live in the US undocumented. I learned to keep quite about my legal status in the US, from 12 years old I was told to never bring up the topic or answer anything if i was asked. This taught me to hate that part of myself, some papers made me believe that I was not enough, that I was not like everyone else. My broken english with thick accent easily set me to stand out from everyone in my 6th grade class, questions like “are you Mexican”, “how do you say this in spanish”, and “did you cross the border” made me resent anything that happened before I got here. I resented my past and my parents for bringing me to a place where we were criminalized and marginalized, I turned in what people call “white washed” I learned to not caught attention, I practice english to fade my accent, and I stopped bringing up Peru. The resentment turned to sadness, I no longer wished to be “white washed” but I knew if I was that Peruvian girl I would be excluded, but to other people it did not matter how i acted, I was judge by my slick ponytails, my dark skin color and my chubby cheeks. My spanish started to fade away and so did my memories I held from my family and friends in Peru, I no longer knew who I stare in the mirror. At a young age I questioned who I was and who I was supposed out to be. I stopped staring at myself and started staring at the world, the so called friends who would talk badly about me in front of me because I did not understand english well, I stare at my parents who worked from early morning to late night, I stared at my sister who would struggle to complete homework, and I stared at my brother who wished to go back to his friends. Yet the world kept spinning, everyday better or worst than the day before no one sure we would make it out. Navigating through high school was like being in the deep end of the pool, no one guided me I managed to figure out AP classes and DC classes by my junior year. My passion for medicine begun much earlier than my choice to complete a in CNA program. The barriers created in healthcare and the limits many undocumented people have to face is ridiculous but it is our reality. My parents worry for when my sister had to get a surgery or when i needed two different blood transfusions, I spent long enough in the hospital from appointments and ER visits to realize how underrepresented minor communities are treated in a country where it is said to have variety of ethnicities. My goal has always been to help people, but half of the population have that dream. But my dream goes deeper I want to learn about minorities, cultures may not seem important to many but in medicine they matter just as much. The way someone is or they do certain things depends on their background, as I get to my goal to become a Nurse Practitioner I plan to share my knowledge and encourage more to be the voice for the minorities in this country.

I am Antonella Mendoza Vasquez and I live in the US undocumented. I learned to keep quiet about my legal status in the US, since 12 years old I was told to never bring up the topic or answer anything if asked. This taught me to hate that part of myself, this legal papers have held me down since I’ve been here. My broken English with thick accent easily set me to stand out from everyone in my 6th grade class. Questions like “Are you Mexican?”, and “Did you jump the border?” made me resent my past and my parents for bringing me to a place where we are criminalized for not having some papers, I turned in what people call “white washed” I learned to not grab attention, I practice English to fade my accent, and I stop bringing up Perú, and I even tried to dress like every girl in my class. The resentment turned to hopelessness and I no longer wish to be mad, only to go back. Economic status no longer matter, I had to leave my friends behind that knew everything about me. Everyone here knew I was just a Mexican girl, and they weren’t even right. Two years passed and my Spanish faded away and so did my memories I clung to about my family and friends in Perú; I no longer knew who I stare in the mirror. At a young age, I questioned who I was and what purpose I had. To avoid questioning myself I started staring at the world, the negative comments made against undocumented pierced through my dark skin, if they only knew how complicated was to live here, how we got no special treatment, how every step taken was 10 steps for every other person. At 15, I realized I could not get a driver’s license nor could get a job in the mall like everyone else; my best friend’s excitement to get her first car only made sad it felt like I got left behind. Many take this opportunity for granted; if I could get a job and drive and be able to go to college without worrying about affording it, I would take it. My best friend questioned me about why I was not practicing to get a driver’s license or working. And for the first time I said it a loud “I am an undocumented immigrant” and it almost felt embarrassing to even say it. Most of life, I had to question if I could or not do something based on my legal status. My dad said something that’ll forever be in my memory, “Nada es imposible, si Dios te lo puso en el camino el sabe que tu puedes lograrlo” Nothing is impossible, if God puts it in your path then you can achieve it. Legal status has limited me, but I found ways to work with the system, not against it. Education is a privilege that shouldn’t be taken for granted. That fear, embarrassment, guilt that I once felt have turned it to resilience, confidence, and courage, which showed me that every step counts even the small steps; it might take me longer but I’ll get there. Through sharing and influencing, I hope to empower students like me to not give up their dreams. I aim to create a network where we can uplift our community, finding a place where we belong, and to share my passion for them to share their story and guide those who are lost.

I am Antonella Mendoza Vasquez and I live in the US undocumented. I learned to keep quiet about my legal status in the US, since 12 years old I was told to never bring up the topic or answer anything if asked. This taught me to hate that part of myself, this legal papers have held me down since I’ve been here. My broken English with thick accent easily set me to stand out from everyone in my 6th grade class. Questions like “Are you Mexican?”, and “Did you jump the border?” made me resent my past and my parents for bringing me to a place where we are criminalized for not having some papers, I turned in what people call “white washed” I learned to not grab attention, I practice English to fade my accent, and I stop bringing up Perú, and I even tried to dress like every girl in my class.  The resentment turned to hopelessness and I no longer wish to be mad, only to go back. Economic status no longer matter, I had to leave my friends behind that knew everything about me. Everyone here knew I was just a Mexican girl, and they weren’t even right. Two years passed and my Spanish faded away and so did my memories I clung to about my family and friends in Perú; I no longer knew who I stare in the mirror. At a young age, I questioned who I was and what purpose I had. To avoid questioning myself I started staring at the world, the negative comments made against undocumented pierced through my dark skin, if they only knew how complicated was to live here, how we got no special treatment, how every step taken was 10 steps for every other person.  At 15, I realized I could not get a driver’s license nor could get a job in the mall like everyone else; my best friend’s excitement to get her first car only made sad it felt like I got left behind. Many take this opportunity for granted; if I could get a job and drive and be able to go to college without worrying about affording it, I would take it. My best friend questioned me about why I was not practicing to get a driver’s license or working. And for the first time I said it a loud “I am an undocumented immigrant” and it almost felt embarrassing to even say it. Most of life, I had to question if I could or not do something based on my legal status. My dad said something that’ll forever be in my memory, “Nada es imposible, si Dios te lo puso en el camino el sabe que tu puedes lograrlo” Nothing is impossible, if God puts it in your path then you can achieve it. Legal status has limited me, but I found ways to work with the system, not against it. Education is a privilege that shouldn’t be taken for granted. That fear, embarrassment, guilt that I once felt have turned it to resilience, confidence, and courage, which showed me that every step counts even the small steps; it might take me longer but I’ll get there. Through sharing and influencing, I hope to empower students like me to not give up their dreams. I aim to create a network where we can uplift our community, finding a place where we belong, and to share my passion for them to share their story and guide those who are lost.

Having foreign-born parents has profoundly shaped my academic experience and influenced my future goals in ways that are both complex and deeply intertwined with my identity. The cultural differences were apparent from a young age, establishing a unique environment in which I grew up. My parents, having immigrated to this country with hopes for a better life, approached my education with a perspective that prioritized academic success above all else. They dedicated themselves to ensuring that I understood the importance of education and the opportunities it could provide. In their eyes, education was not merely a stepping stone; it was the foundation upon which my future would be built. Unlike the more lenient educational philosophies I observed among my American peers, my parents adopted a traditional approach, steeped in discipline and a singular focus on academic achievement. They made it clear that my priority should be school, instilling in me a sense of purpose and responsibility that I carry with me today. I am immensely grateful for their unwavering commitment to my education. Their sacrifices have allowed me to pursue higher education, and I recognize this opportunity is a privilege not afforded to everyone. However, the weight of generational trauma is also a reality I carry. My parents’ past experiences shape their perspectives, leading them to be overprotective and, at times, overly cautious. I often question their decisions and engage in arguments about my independence. Yet, I understand that their protective nature stems from love and concern, rooted in their own fears. This dynamic has significantly influenced my career goals. My parents have always taught me the value of giving and how the world returns kindness when we extend it to others. This philosophy ignited my passion for nursing, as it aligns perfectly with my desire to help those in need. Their encouragement has fueled my commitment to pursue a career where I can make a difference in people’s lives. I dream of the day when they can proudly say, “Mi hija es una enfermera,” knowing that I am fulfilling not only my aspirations but also the lessons they instilled in me. As I look ahead, I am driven by the desire to honor my parents’ sacrifices and to create pathways for others who face challenges similar to mine. My journey is about more than personal achievement; it’s about giving back and ensuring that others feel supported and valued. The struggles I’ve faced have only strengthened my resolve to succeed and to serve my community. In conclusion, having foreign-born parents has profoundly impacted my academic experience and career aspirations. Their dedication to my success has provided me with opportunities I cherish, while the generational trauma and cultural differences have posed challenges I continue to navigate. Ultimately, these experiences have shaped my passion for nursing and fueled my determination to make a positive impact in the world. I carry with me the lessons of love, sacrifice, and resilience, and I am committed to honoring my parents’ legacy through my work in healthcare.

Growing up undocumented in a new country has profoundly shaped my identity and aspirations. My journey began in a culture that was familiar and comforting, but when my family moved to the United States, everything changed. The transition was overwhelming; I found myself in an environment where I was not only isolated by language but also by cultural differences. My thick accent made communication difficult, often leading to misunderstandings and feelings of inadequacy. This barrier instilled a deep sense of insecurity in me. I became acutely aware of how different I was, which alienated me from my peers. The fear of rejection based on my background made me retreat into myself, fostering an introverted nature. The struggle to adapt to a new culture and language was compounded by the social isolation I experienced. I often felt invisible, battling depression and anxiety that stemmed from the inability to connect with those around me. I remember feeling as though there was something inherently wrong with me, as I watched others effortlessly navigate social interactions. My self-esteem took a hit, and the joy of childhood faded as I grappled with the weight of my undocumented status. I kept to myself, convinced that I was unworthy of acceptance. Yet, amid this turmoil, I found solace in my passion for helping others. From a young age, I have always had a desire to serve and support those in need. This passion for helping people became my guiding light, pushing me to strive for a better future. I realized that education was the key to unlocking my potential and empowering me to make a difference in my community. My dream is to pursue a career in nursing, a field where I can directly impact the lives of others. I aspire to become a nurse practitioner, focusing on serving minority communities that often lack access to quality healthcare. This ambition is not just about a career; it’s about giving back and advocating for those who face challenges similar to mine. Currently, I am considering attending Valparaiso University, which has one of the best nursing programs in the country. The institution's commitment to community service aligns perfectly with my goals, and I believe its nurturing environment will provide me with the tools I need to succeed. But the reality of being an undocumented student poses significant financial challenges. Unlike many of my peers, I do not qualify for government financial aid, which places an immense burden on my family. My parents work tirelessly to provide for us, yet the cost of higher education continues to rise, making it difficult for us to afford tuition. Winning this scholarship would be transformative for my family and me. It would alleviate some of the financial stress my parents face, allowing them to focus on supporting my education without the constant worry of how to pay for it. More importantly, this scholarship would bring me one step closer to realizing my dream of becoming a nurse. It would empower me to pursue my passion for healthcare and community service without the weight of financial constraints holding me back. In conclusion, my experiences as an undocumented individual have shaped my resilience and determination to pursue higher education. I am committed to overcoming the barriers I face and making a meaningful impact in the lives of others through nursing. With the support of this scholarship, I can take significant strides toward achieving my goals and fulfilling my lifelong dream of serving those in need.

My name is Antonella Mendoza, and I am a rising college freshman eager to dive into the field of nursing. As a Peruvian woman, I have faced adversity that has shaped who I am today and fueled my passion for helping others. When I first moved to the United States, I struggled because I did not know the language. This language barrier made me a target for bullying, and it was a difficult time for me. I felt isolated and misunderstood, which led to a period of depression. It was hard to find my place and feel like I belonged. However, things began to change when I started surrounding myself with the right people. I found friends and mentors who supported and encouraged me. They helped me see my worth and reminded me that I was not alone. This support system was crucial in helping me overcome my depression and regain my confidence. Through these experiences, I discovered my passion for helping others, especially those who face language barriers like I did. I realized that I wanted to become a nurse to provide care and support to people who might feel lost or misunderstood because of language differences. I am currently studying to get my certification as a nursing assistant, and my passion for healthcare continues to grow. My parents have given everything for me, and I plan to give that back by not only pursuing a career that makes me genuinely happy but also making them proud by helping those who once were us in need of help. This adversity taught me the importance of empathy and understanding. I know firsthand how it feels to be marginalized, and I want to use my experiences to make a difference in the lives of others. I am committed to helping those who cannot speak English and ensuring they receive the care and respect they deserve. If I were to give advice to someone facing similar challenges, I would say: find your support system. Surround yourself with people who uplift you and believe in your potential. Do not let the negativity of others define you. Instead, focus on your strengths and what you can offer to the world. Also, remember that it is okay to seek help when you need it. Talking to someone about your feelings can be incredibly healing. Facing adversity as a Peruvian student has not been easy, but it has shaped me into a more compassionate and determined person. It has ignited a passion in me to help others, particularly those who feel marginalized because of language barriers. I am excited to pursue a career in nursing and make a positive impact in the world. I hope to inspire others to overcome their challenges and use their experiences to help those in need, just as I have learned to do.