I never thought I would make it to college. I was raised in a small, religious community where people like me were meant to just have as many babies as possible, stay home, and cook for their husbands. Now that I am finally in school, it feels surreal. I continue to fight off all of my doubts, insecurities, and discomfort to make sure I finish what I got here to do. My education is a precious gift to me, and I've sacrificed a lot to be able to get here. Being a low-income student isn't easy, but I believe that I need to do what I need to do in order to finish school. I work and take any internships, fellowships, and scholarships that I can. I plan to work in the nonprofit sector, so internships and fellowships are important to me. I want to change the way nonprofits help people, innovate and help the system evolve to better serve the low-income, the unhoused, and those who the system has failed. I managed to get to college through an incredible series of events that entailed luck, good timing, and the generosity of a stranger. I don't believe that people should have to rely on luck or good timing to get a chance at a better life. I want to help the nonprofit industry rethink the ways in which they implement programs to help people who are in dire situations. Many times, there are requirements or standards for involvement in certain programs that aren't easily met by people in distress. This means that for every program that could be helping people in need, the people who are perhaps the most in need do not receive the services. I hope to change the ways we think about social welfare and social services to have a trauma-informed approach and a lower bar for entry to programs or eligibility for services. We should have mental-health counselors and cultural advisors on the board of every nonprofit that is serving unhoused people. By discounting the mental health effects of being unhoused, many people are being given less than what they actually need to survive. We need a more comprehensive and competent strategy for helping those people. My goal is to help nonprofits develop those strategies so that folks can have a better shot at getting out of their situation. Everyone deserves to be seen as a person. Everyone deserves a chance at life.

I used to hate when people called me "resilient." It felt as though they saw me as the culmination of horrible things I've been through, rather than a whole person. It's taken me a long time to own my story and recognize my strength. I am proud of my resilience, not because I ascribe my strength to the difficult things I have been through. It is a quality hardwired in me that I will have for life. I can tackle any obstacle, adapt to any situation. I have made a life out of nothing; that is a rare gift. I am proud to use my gift to empower others to become more than they ever thought they would be. No matter where I go in life, I always land on my feet and I always manage to learn something. I truly believe I will keep growing and evolving as a person for the rest of my life. I am happy to learn, adapt, and grow. It makes me feel alive. As I go through school and look at my options, I recognize that it can be overwhelming for me to not have a clear path like some other people do. But I believe my path is not clear for a reason. I am going to do great things. I define "great things" as pathways and opportunities to help others and learn something new. My resilience helps me teach people, learn from people, change people, and let people change me. I am not strong because I am a mountain or a brick wall. I am strong because I can change, adapt, and be flexible. My life experiences have helped me become open-minded to new ideas and concepts and implement them with ease. I am able to adapt to new situations quickly and efficiently. I can find a place for myself in most spaces, as long as I can be of service to others. This, to me, is true resilience.

For as long as I can remember, it has been hard to live in my body. At times, my body has felt like my enemy; it is the holder of memories I do not want. I have a long and sordid history of taking my trauma out on my body. This has greatly affected my relationship with my body; my body no longer trusts me to take care of it and meet its basic needs. Art has given me a way to connect with my body, a sort of couple’s therapist between my body and my mind. Art can be cathartic, but it can also serve as the great challenger of patterns and perspectives that no longer serve me. Art has allowed me to navigate my trauma. By allowing myself to create without an agenda or pre-determined meaning for the piece at hand, I can translate the art once it is finished to discover what my body is trying to tell me. Art allows me to stay present and focused, to let my inner self take over and control the narrative. It gives my body space to speak up and entices me to listen, to understand, and to be curious. My body is eloquent. My body is wise. My body teaches me about myself. When I make art, I am following my body’s lead. My piece (sculpture and poem) is a tribute to my body, an ode to growing up in trauma and the difficulties of healing. It symbolizes the treacherous journey of putting my body first in my healing process and how my trauma affects my ability to form relationships. I hope to help others use art to let their body speak and to trust their body to show them how to heal and become their most authentic selves.

Dying is Scary, but Living is Worse Artist: th1nner 1) Masochism by Ky Vöss 2) Void by Elita 3) God is a Cop by Midwife 4) Angels of Porn II by Nicole Dollenganger 5) Burning Pile by Mother Mother 6) Black Me Out by Against Me! 7) Novacane by Frank Ocean

1) Community is a conscious effort; it isn't some passive thing that sprouts out of the ground like a mushroom. I grew up in a social environment that many would consider a community, yet it wasn't a community to me. I grew up as an outcast, a person who deviated from the social norms of those I was raised around. I was awkward, queer, and full of existential questions. My community did not condone asking questions. I was deemed a troublemaker. It has taken me a long time to build my community. My community is a group of folks who help each other, try to listen and evolve as people, and actively seek new ways to do and be better. I am involved in my community's local mutual aid collective; we cook Sunday night dinners where all are welcome, run a food pantry and free library, and host workshops and talks to empower those around us to be well-informed and better able to help others. I run workshops on harm reduction, Narcan training, and sexual education. I do my small part to contribute without worrying about whether or not others are doing theirs. This is the true meaning of community. 2) I grew up in the Ultra-Orthodox Jewish community and was kicked out of my house for not practicing at the age of 18. Having to navigate a totally unfamiliar world by myself really exposed the holes in society that create and perpetuate massively underserved populations. I refer to it now as my crash course in Society 101; I learned quickly that there is a serious lack of empowerment and information for communities to learn how to band together and help each other overcome difficulty. My experiences have shaped my vision for the future: I want to become an ethical consultant for foundations and non-profits to help them better understand the demographics they hope to serve, and conduct ethnographic research to compile human-centered data showing where the greatest need is. I don't believe we have a shortage of resources to help people. I believe we suffer from a serious resource misallocation. By collecting data and speaking directly to those who need the aid, we can mitigate the misallocations and miscommunications to help more people and create an exponentially larger ripple effect for philanthropic ventures.