Every space tells a story long before a single word is spoken. A hospital room can ease fear. A classroom can spark curiosity. A home can preserve generations of culture, comfort, and love. I chose Interior Architecture & Design because I believe the spaces around us quietly shape the way we live, heal, learn, and connect. To me, design is more than creativity; it is a form of problem-solving rooted in science, technology, engineering, and human understanding. People often overlook interior architecture & design as a STEM field because they see only the finished product. What they don't see are the building systems, structural coordination, lighting calculations, accessibility standards, material science, environmental research, and technical precision behind every decision. I have always loved both art and analytical thinking, and this field allows me to bring those passions together. Every project asks me to think critically, solve complex problems, and create solutions that improve people's everyday lives. As a first-generation college student and a woman of color, I have often questioned whether I belonged in the spaces where I hoped to succeed. I attended predominantly white institutions, and there were moments when I looked around the classroom and wondered if I had earned my place there. It felt easier to doubt myself than to recognize the value of my perspective. Over time, I realized that my experiences were not something to hide because they were something to contribute. My background has taught me empathy, resilience, and adaptability. Those qualities influence every design decision I make because I understand that every person experiences the built environment differently. A child with sensory sensitivities, an older adult with limited mobility, or a family searching for comfort during a medical crisis all deserve spaces that acknowledge their needs with dignity and care. Good design is not only beautiful; it is inclusive, functional, and deeply human. As a woman in STEM, I hope to challenge the idea that technical fields and creativity exist separately. The best innovations happen when engineering meets imagination and when diverse voices contribute to the same problem. I want young women, especially those who come from backgrounds like mine, to see that there is a place for them in STEM and not because they fit an existing mold, but because their unique perspectives strengthen the field. Receiving this scholarship would help relieve the financial burden of my education and allow me to continue developing the technical knowledge and professional experience needed to become an interior architect & designer. I chose this path because I believe every person deserves spaces that help them feel safe, valued, and understood. If I can use science and design to improve even one person's daily life, then every challenge that brought me here will have been worth it. That is the kind of impact I hope to leave as someone who believes that the spaces we create have the power to shape the people who inhabit them.

Empathy is the root of my dreams. My parents never taught me empathy through lectures or advice; they taught it through sacrifice. As a little girl, I watched them leave for work before the sun came up and return home exhausted long after the sun set. They came to this country with almost nothing except hope and they left behind familiarity and comfort because they believed their children deserved opportunities they never had. I grew up watching them choose my future over their own. Being a first-generation college student means carrying dreams that began before I was born. My parents always believed education could change my life, but they never had the chance to experience college themselves. Every application, financial aid form, and academic decision became something I had to figure out on my own. Some of my clearest memories come from nights at our kitchen table. I stared at homework until my tears blurred the words. I wanted to ask my parents for help, but I already knew the answer. They wanted nothing more than to help, yet they couldn't. Even then, they reminded me not to give up. Looking back, I realize they gave me something far greater than the right answers. They gave me the encouragement to keep searching for them. As I continued through school, I often felt out of place. I attended predominantly white institutions, and as a person of color, I sometimes looked around advanced classrooms and wondered if I truly belonged there. It felt as though everyone else already knew how to navigate those spaces while I tried to find my place. As I grew older, I realized that being first-generation is not defined by what my family lacked; it's defined by everything they gave. Their sacrifices became my resilience. I stopped asking whether I belonged and began reminding myself why I was there. My parents' sacrifices earned me the opportunity to take that seat, and I refused to let self-doubt take it away. Their love also taught me that every person carries a story that deserves compassion even if the world never sees it. That lesson shaped my dream of becoming an interior architect and designer. I want to create more than aesthetic spaces. I want to design places where people feel valued and understood. A room cannot erase hardship, but it can offer a sense of belonging. That's the kind of impact I hope to make. This scholarship would relieve part of the financial burden that my family and I carry and allow me to devote more of my time to my education. More importantly, it would honor every sacrifice that brought me here. My degree will never belong only to me. It belongs to my parents whose dreams crossed a border before I ever crossed a college campus. Being first-generation means becoming the beginning of a new story. Every achievement I earn carries my family with it, and every step I take honors the sacrifices that made those steps possible.

My story begins with a young mother who fled from her small pueblo in Oaxaca, Mexico, arriving at the border with nothing but a half-filled plastic water bottle, a plastic bag of bread, and a baby wrapped against her chest in a rebozo, a traditional woven shawl. As my mother crossed into Texas, somewhere in El Paso, she found my father waiting at a gas station in a rusty blue Mazda truck. My parents spent years traveling across the country, taking whatever jobs they could find to provide for our family before eventually settling in Tennessee and calling it home. Their journey was never easy. They entered a country where they spoke no English and only knew a small amount of Spanish. They relied mostly on Mixteco, their Indigenous language. Even through those hardships, they never let go of their dream that their children would have opportunities they never did back home. Growing up, I was constantly reminded of that dream. My mother would always tell me, "Estudia, estudia, estudia, para que no salgas como yo," which means, "Study, study, study, so you don't end up like me." Those words were never meant to make me feel guilty. They were just a reminder of the sacrifices my parents made and the life they hoped a great education could give me. Because of them, I learned to give my best in school and work hard in everything I did. As I grew older, I began to understand that earning a good education also meant learning to navigate many challenges on my own. There were countless nights when I sat at the kitchen table frustrated by homework or projects I didn't understand. I wanted to ask my parents for help, but they simply couldn't give it. It wasn't because they didn't care. They had never been given the same educational opportunities, and language often stood in the way. Instead, they encouraged me to keep trying, even when the answers didn't come easily. Those moments taught me to become resourceful, ask questions, seek out mentors, and believe in my ability to solve problems. They also gave me the confidence to keep moving forward, even when I felt out of place. I spent most of my education in predominantly white institutions, so I often found myself as one of the few women of color in advanced classes and leadership positions. It was hard not to notice that very few people shared my background or understood the experiences that shaped me. There were moments when I questioned whether I truly belonged in those spaces, but whenever those thoughts hit me, I thought about my parents and everything they had endured so I could have the opportunity to sit in those classrooms and learn those materials. Their resilience reminded me that I was not there by accident; I was there because their sacrifices made it possible. Today, I carry that perspective with me in everything I do. As a first-generation college student and the daughter of Mexican-Mixtec immigrants, I hope to honor my parents' sacrifices by using my education to create opportunities for others and to show people who share a similar story that they belong in every room they step into. That purpose is why I chose Interior Architecture & Design. I want to create spaces where people feel seen, supported, and valued. This scholarship would do more than ease the financial burden of college. It would give me the opportunity to focus on my education, strengthen my skills, and prepare for a career that improves people's everyday lives through thoughtful, caring design.

I believe nothing in this life comes without the work of oneself or of others. It is something that has always been said in my household. That belief has shaped the way I view work; it's an essential part of life. To some, work may feel routine, but to others, it becomes a source of purpose and growth. In my case, working part-time while pursuing my degree as a first-generation college student has been one of the most challenging experiences of my life, but it has also been one of the most rewarding. I work as a Regional Program Assistant at Tennessee Voices, a nonprofit organization that supports children and families through behavioral health advocacy and community programs. Every day, I see the realities that many families face: hardship, uncertainty, and the resilience it takes to keep moving forward. Although my career path is in Interior Architecture & Design, working alongside professionals in social work has broadened my perspective and deepened my appreciation for the impact every profession can have on someone's life. As a first-generation college student, balancing work, school, and my role in Delta Phi Lambda Sorority often feels overwhelming. My days are filled with projects, work responsibilities, volunteer events, meetings, and late nights spent meeting deadlines. There are moments when I feel physically and mentally exhausted, but I keep going because I know every challenge is shaping me into the person I aspire to become. What makes those difficult days worthwhile is the perspective my job has given me. I have met people from many different backgrounds and heard stories that remind me how precious life truly is. I have witnessed children, families, and professionals navigating circumstances that many people never see. Those experiences have transformed the way I view my own life. Rather than leaving me discouraged, they have taught me gratitude in its purest form. The struggles I witness remind me to appreciate the simple gift of being able to breathe, learn, and dream. They also remind me that even the hardest days can strengthen my commitment to serving others with empathy, understanding, and respect. One of the most difficult periods I experienced was during finals week of my spring semester, when multiple projects coincided with a demanding work schedule and responsibilities within my sorority. There were nights when I questioned whether I could keep up with everything. Instead of giving up, I leaned into discipline rather than stress. I planned every hour of my week, communicated openly with my supervisor and professors, and accepted that asking for support was not a sign of weakness, but of growth. Breaking large tasks into smaller goals helped me stay focused, and reminding myself why I was working so hard kept me moving forward. Above all, I wanted to build a future that would make my parents proud and honor the sacrifices they made to give me opportunities they never had. Working while earning my degree has taught me lessons beyond the classroom. It has strengthened my resilience, deepened my empathy, and reinforced the importance of helping others. Although my future lies in Interior Architecture & Design, my experiences at Tennessee Voices have forever changed the way I see people and the world around me. They have inspired me to become a designer who creates spaces where people feel safe, valued, and understood. Every challenge I face today is shaping the person I dream of becoming tomorrow, and every step reminds me that the most meaningful accomplishments are often earned through perseverance.