Growing up as a biracial woman adopted by white parents, I’ve often found myself navigating mostly white spaces. We moved between Michigan and North Carolina, settling in cities where I was usually one of the few people of color at school and in my neighborhood. While my adoptive family provided love and stability, I frequently felt caught between two worlds—looking different but growing up in a family that didn’t always grasp the challenges I faced. My biological family’s experience with education added another layer to my story. For at least two generations, no one attended college. Many dropped out of high school or didn’t go beyond it at all. I’m the first in two generations to go to university, currently working toward a degree in Mass Communications with a focus on Broadcasting. This is a big deal for me because it means breaking a pattern and showing that different paths are possible. Getting to college wasn’t easy. In middle and high school, I was put in an IEP program because I faced serious learning challenges. School was overwhelming, and teachers offered little help, so I struggled mostly on my own. I spent countless nights at my desk, tears falling, feeling like I wasn’t smart enough and that being “different” would stop me from succeeding. I almost gave up more than once, feeling invisible and unsupported. That lack of help made me doubt myself every day. As I got older and learned more about education, things started to change. I taught myself how to speak up for what I needed, found ways to study smarter, and realized I had more strength than I thought. Those tough years gave me empathy and determination, lessons that no textbook could teach. Now, looking back, I feel motivated—not bitter—to be the support I once needed so badly. Through my studies in journalism and broadcasting, I want to give a voice to students who often go unnoticed—those with learning disabilities, first-generation college students, biracial or adopted kids, and anyone who has felt out of place. My goal is to create podcasts, short documentaries, and news stories that tell honest stories of struggle and success, helping education feel achievable instead of out of reach. Closer to home, I plan to give back by mentoring students in IEP programs, especially in schools where support is lacking. I want to go into classrooms, talk to groups, and make media that shows having a learning disability doesn’t decide your future. By sharing practical tips on standing up for yourself, building confidence, and pushing through tough times, I hope to encourage others to keep going instead of quitting like I almost did. On a larger scale, my career in broadcasting will help shed light on educational gaps, financial struggles, and the stories of students who don’t often get heard. Whether telling local stories in towns like my own or reaching wider audiences, I want to build understanding and inspire change. Being biracial in mostly white communities, overcoming challenges in an IEP, and becoming the first in my family to attend college has given me a unique perspective, grit, and sense of responsibility. If I receive this scholarship, I’ll use it to turn my struggles into positive change, helping others believe they belong and can succeed. I’m committed to lifting others up as I move forward, creating waves of encouragement for those who come next.

Hi, I'm Ashley. I'm biracial and was adopted. Growing up, I had a special needs label due to emotional issues, which stuck with me all through school. It made things tough—I had trouble focusing, dealt with mood swings, and often felt like people didn't get me. Teachers and other students sometimes saw the label before they saw me, making school feel lonely sometimes. But my parents were amazing. They fought for what I needed, pushed me to use my strengths, and constantly reminded me that I was more than just a diagnosis. Their faith in me helped me get through it all, graduate, and do well. Writing became my way to escape and speak my mind. Even when school was hard, I loved writing stories, journal entries—anything that let me say what I couldn't say out loud. That love stuck with me. After high school, I started freelancing, writing about my experiences. To pay the bills and help others, I tutored kids in English and writing. Helping them find their confidence, especially those who struggled like I did, showed me how important it is to communicate clearly and with understanding. That's why I decided to study Mass Communications and Journalism, focusing on Broadcasting. Journalism isn't just about facts; it's about sharing stories that need to be heard. In my second year, I interned at Disney in Communications, which was amazing. Working on actual projects made me love this field even more. I realized how powerful media can be in informing, entertaining, and inspiring people, and I knew I wanted to create content that mattered. Having a special needs background, I am hoping to make a real impact in journalism by focusing on unheard voices, especially those of people with disabilities or emotional challenges. Too often, stories about special needs focus on the negative or are told by people who don't really understand. I want to change that. Whether it's through investigations, broadcast stories, or personal narratives, my goal is to show the strength, the advocacy, and the human side of these labels. I want to create pieces that educate people, reduce stigma, and push for better support—similar to what Special Needs Advocacy Inc. does. My life has taught me to be understanding, to keep going, and to represent people fairly. In my journalism career, I hope to use these lessons to give a voice to those who are often ignored. Whether it's through broadcasting, articles, or multimedia, I want my work to create understanding, start conversations, and make a difference.

My path to figuring out who I am hasn't been straight, but it's made me someone who really values being real, understanding others, and the power of stories. I'm Ashley, and I'm non-binary, aroace (aromantic asexual), and demisexual. I'm studying Mass Communications and Journalism, focusing on Broadcasting. I grew up in a small town and spent most of high school feeling lost, trying to be who everyone else wanted me to be. I kept questioning who I was and what I liked, hiding parts of myself to fit in. This mess inside made me feel cut off from who I really was, just playing roles that felt safe but didn't make me happy. That all changed after I graduated. Without the stress of fitting in, I could finally see who I really was. I accepted that I'm aroace, demi, and non-binary. Knowing myself brought so much peace and clarity—I didn't have to pretend anymore. This self-acceptance opened up new doors, and made my passion for writing grow even more. I've loved writing since I was a kid. In elementary school, I'd fill notebooks with fun stories and help make cards for my family and friends. It was just fun back then, not something I thought about for the future. But as I got older, writing became my way to understand the world. After high school, I made it a hobby and a side job as a freelance writer, sharing stories that showed my experiences and my voice. I chose Mass Communications and Journalism in college because it let me mix storytelling with making a difference—whether it's through broadcasting or writing. I want to tell stories that mean something, especially those from people like me who are often ignored. In my first year of college, I was part of a Title IX case that was emotionally and mentally draining. It left me with scars, and I had to take a year off to get better, think, and heal. During that time, I faced not only the trauma but also how it affected my identity—feeling exposed in a world that doesn't always understand or accept queer people. But getting better taught me how to bounce back. I came out stronger, more ready to use my voice than to stay quiet. Writing became my rock during and after that hard time. With a new goal, I started working on my own book—a narrative that looks at the Title IX experience, the confusion of my high school years, and how finding myself made years later. With this book, I'm turning pain into purpose, hoping to help others who feel alone in similar situations. Writing isn't just a skill for me; it's a way to heal, relate, and stand up for what's right. Outside of school, I've turned my passion into action. As a freelance writer, I've improved my writing skills while tutoring younger students part-time to help pay for school—usually focusing on English and writing. Seeing them grow is like seeing my own growth. In my second year, I was so happy to get an internship with Disney in Communications, where I contributed to projects that reached so many people and showed how storytelling can bring people together and encourage them. I love writing because it lets me be myself and share other people's stories. LGBTQ+ people still face so much misunderstanding, so I want to use journalism and creative writing to create visibility, compassion, and change—whether it's through news reports, articles, or personal stories like my book.

I grew up, conditioned by a mixture of cultures, circumstances, and hardships that have shaped me into who I am today. I was born and later adopted by white parents in Florida, and having been a half-Black and half-white biracial African American, spent most of my childhood in segregated, mostly white communities. This multicultural background taught me and strengthened me, and it armed me to change my surroundings and fortified me to embrace diversity. Since my family members moved so extensively, I was able to live everywhere in the nation and experience a plethora of different communities and lifestyles. I spent the majority of my schooling in the South, where I initially found my niche and sense of home in a distant land—Band. I was constantly struggling to fit in with other peers and my group in middle school and high school. All that changed the instant I was part of the school band. The instant I began playing my instrument, I knew I was where I was meant to be. Marching Band was no longer an after-school activity for me; it was family. Even though I was teased or referred to as a "band nerd" at times, I wore it as a badge of honor because it attested to something that I loved. The camaraderie, discipline, and cooperation acquired through music sustained me throughout high school and made me stronger in self-confidence. Following graduation, I went through one of the most difficult experiences in my life. My freshman year of college, I had a Title IX case that just ate at me emotionally. It was really stressing me out and emotionally draining, so I just made the decision to step away and drop after I finished the year. Not stepping away was not an easy choice, but it was a choice that needed to be made if I was going to heal and find my purpose again. During that summer, I was blessed to be offered the Disney College Program and work at Walt Disney World. To be able to help make magical experiences for guests helped restore my confidence and bring me back to the joy of being able to connect with people. When I went back to school, I switched colleges and began anew—I this time earned my Associate of Arts in Communications and Journalism. My ambition is to be a Meteorology Broadcaster, something that I dreamed up at the age of four when I grew up close to the beach and was intrigued by weather patterns and the science that accompanies it. Since coming back to school, I have maintained a very good grade level and have continued to progress toward my goals. I also intend to get into music again by joining my future university's marching band once again—pursuing a hobby that has always been a source of joy for me and one that welcomed me. Through every move, challenge, and setback, I’ve learned the value of perseverance and self-belief. My journey has taught me that growth often comes from starting over—and that each new beginning brings the opportunity to become stronger and more authentic. I’m excited for what lies ahead, and I’m determined to use my voice, my education, and my story to inspire others who may be finding their own way forward.

My freshman year of college at Texas A&M University–Texarkana was the year my world broke. I was the victim of a sexual assault by someone once considered my friend, someone whom I felt trusted. Following the attack, a whirl of silence, guilt, and fear descended upon my life, impacting every aspect of my life, particularly my academics and my mental well-being. I withdrew from life. I stopped going to the cafeteria with the students, hardly went outside my dorm room, and started flunking classes. I felt shame and loathing. I did not dare to inform anyone--not even my trusted colleagues--because they were close to him just as well. I was afraid they would not believe me, or, heaven forbid, they would take his side and destroy my confidence. I even tried to go to the university's counseling services, but the sessions were unfocused and unhelpful. Instead of making me feel heard and cared for, the counseling felt like it was putting my pain aside. When I went through the procedure of filing for a Title IX probe, it only was even more disheartening. The university was inclined towards an agreement of mediation, and this made me ill. It felt like the procedure was favoring the campus image and the ease of the procedure, rather than my truth. Although text messaging and even a confession by him—"I didn't ask, she never said no"—were present, the panel argued they did not have sufficient evidence. The individual responsible for the hurt was permitted to go back to campus, but I was left to bear the burdens of his action. I dropped out of the university in January. I took a year and a half off of school because I couldn't function. I felt empty, angry, and lost. Some days, I felt the urge to seek more justice, but I realized it would be too much and would open old wounds I was trying so hard to heal. The silver lining was my family. My parents were my rock. They doubted me not. They became my sanctuary, and they allowed me to cry, scream, and vent whenever they were needed. Their love supplied me with strength, even though it was all gone. My gap year launched unexpectedly—I was offered the place on the Disney College Program and worked at Walt Disney World. That was where the transformation happened. Working in the warm, fun environment of Disney, I started to feel alive again. I was immersed in new friendships, most of which I still have today. I felt appreciated, included, and belonged to something special. I wasn't just getting through life anymore—I was learning to love again. But recovering isn't linear. Once my Disney stint was over, the old emotions were back. My parents recommended transferring schools, so off to Miami Dade College I went. Starting over was intimidating, but it brought me the room to grow, heal, and focus. My grades are better than ever, and my GPA has never been higher. Above all, though, I'm learning how to feel again—to navigate emotions positively and connect with myself. I still have scars. I'm protective of myself around men, and the subject of relationships is complex for me. Trust comes slowly. But time has taught me, too, to be able to experience joy again—in my passions, my companions, and the dreams I have set for myself. Among those dreams is the hope of becoming a Meteorologist Forecaster. Weather has long intrigued me, and predicting seems to be the ability to provide insight and readiness to others—a departure from the confusion once present in my own life. It'll be a huge accomplishment for me to graduate with my associate's degree. My life path has been far from linear, and it lasted longer than intended. However, every step necessitated earned credit. I'm strong and confident where I am, not only educationally but personally. Trauma does not define me, but my resilience does. I am still healing, still learning, and still moving toward the better future I am worthy of. With the love and support of my loved ones and my own tenacity, I am certain I can transform my sufferings into purpose. I shall not let this horrid minute define the rest of my life. I have regained my voice, and I won't be afraid to make it known.

Since the very first time I looked up into the sky when I was four years old and living in North Carolina, I knew that I wished to be a meteorologist. Watching the storms roll in, feeling the power of the weather, and seeing how meteorologists could predict the changes gave me my interest in the science of the weather. As I grew older, I realized that mathematics would play a large role in making these predictions a reality. It was then that I personally came to understand how important math was in my chosen career. Math is the keystone of meteorology. It's not just numbers and equations—it's what makes possible the ability to understand complex weather patterns, interpret radar, and predict conditions to follow. Consider radar images, for example, which are used to track storms and tornadoes. Those rely on mathematical principles like wave propagation and signal analysis. By using mathematical models of data received by satellites and weather stations, meteorologists are able to model weather patterns, forecast rain, and analyze the trajectory of storms. Without mathematics, no forecasts would be possible, and no means of deciphering the turbulence of the atmosphere. I love mathematics because it gives us the tools to make sense of the world around us. It’s the language that allows us to decode the mysteries of the weather and understand the forces that shape our environment. I’m excited by the idea of using math to unravel the complexities of weather systems and contribute to the safety and preparedness of communities. At work as a meteorologist, math will not only be necessary but something I will enjoy, motivating me to innovate, solve problems, and continue learning. Math, in essence, is the manner in which I see the world, and it will be the foundation that will make my dream of becoming a meteorologist a reality.

Mental health is one that we do not always completely value until life has a tendency to make us approach it head-on. My journey began at Texas A&M University–Texarkana, where I endured a traumatic Title IX incident that changed the course of my life. The ordeal left me feeling isolated, betrayed, and powerless. When I finally gained the courage to report it, I was hoping for support and understanding. Rather, the university disbelieved my truth and sided with the other individual. It was devastating. The sting of not being believed was deeper than I could ever have imagined. I was angered, hurt, and resentful—not only with the individual who had injured me but also with the institution that had failed to defend me. The stress and grief impinged upon my mental and physical health. I wholeheartedly wholeheartedly withdrew from school for nearly two years, watching my classmates graduate while I couldn't find the strength to start again. I was lost, behind, and unclear about the future. At that darkest time, my parents were my pillar. They stood by me during every breakdown, every night of insomnia, and every doubting moment. At their insistence, I began visiting a therapist and embarking on healing. My parents reminded me of something basic yet profound: to let go of what I couldn't control and have faith and time heal. At last, I made the deliberate decision to stop letting anger define me. Musing over the past was doing nothing but injuring me, not anyone else. With my family's support and restored faith, I forgave—not because what happened was right, but because I deserved peace. I let it go and let God finish the job. That decision changed everything. I began to feel lighter, more open to possibility, and more hopeful about the future. A short while later, I was accepted into the Disney College Program, and I was given the incredible opportunity to work at Walt Disney World. It was a turning point—it reminded me what joy, fantasy, and purpose felt like again. Surrounded by great people and assisting guests to make the magic of memories reinforced my passion for life and my faith in who I was growing up to be. Now, I continue my education at Miami Dade College, where I earn my associate degree prior to pursuing my bachelor's at Florida Atlantic University. I have also restarted one of my all-time favorites—marching band—and find a sense of belonging and happiness that I never knew was missing. My mental health journey has shaped me into someone stronger, more compassionate, and more self-aware. Healing is not about forgetting—it’s about finding the courage to keep living, learning, and loving even after being broken. I’ve learned the power of support and how family, faith, and professional help can make recovery possible. Without the unbreakable love and encouragement of my parents, I would not be here today. They constantly reminded me that my journey did not end in suffering but goes on to purpose. My experience has encouraged me to be a voice for mental health awareness and to give hope to others by showing them that healing is possible no matter how low things get. What once felt like the end of my future has become the foundation of my strength. I’ve learned that life doesn’t always go as planned, but with hope, faith, and resilience, it can still be beautiful.