My journey with mental health was shaped by the loss of my cousin. His death changed the way I see pain, responsibility, and the silent battles people carry every day. Watching someone I loved struggle with mental health challenges was heartbreaking. It became even harder when I saw how those struggles affected the way he handled money, relationships, and daily life. At one point, he had to move back in with my aunt and uncle because his decisions, influenced by poor mental health and substance abuse, had taken such a serious toll on his life. Losing him left a deep mark on me and forced me to confront how much mental health can shape a person’s path. That experience brought my heart posture closer to God. In grief, I found myself praying more, reflecting more, and asking deeper questions about purpose. I realized that many people are carrying burdens they do not know how to name, and too often our communities are taught to hide pain instead of heal from it. In the Black community especially, mental health is not always discussed openly. Many people are told to be strong, push through, and keep personal struggles private. I began to see how dangerous that silence can be. It can isolate people when they need support the most. My cousin’s story also taught me that financial instability and emotional instability can become deeply connected. I saw how a lack of discipline, guidance, and healthy support systems can affect every part of a person’s life. That changed how I think about success. I no longer see financial education as just learning how to save money or budget well. I see it as a form of stability, confidence, and protection. When young people are given tools early, they have a better chance of making decisions that support both their future and their peace of mind. His death affected my family and friends in a major way. It brought pain, confusion, and a lot of unanswered questions. At the same time, it created a spark in me. I did not want to be someone who only mourned the problem. I wanted to be part of building a solution. That motivation helped lead me toward helping build Shortstacks Finance for Kids with a passionate team that cares deeply about the next generation. Our platform is designed to help children and teens learn financial discipline, responsibility, and real life money habits early. It is now in beta and being used in a school setting, which has made the work even more meaningful. What inspires me most is seeing that this work is already making an impact. Students are learning how money connects to everyday choices, family communication, and personal accountability. They are beginning to understand that discipline in one area of life can shape confidence in many others. While Shortstacks is a financial literacy tool, I believe its impact goes deeper. It helps young people build structure, awareness, and healthy habits in a world that can often feel overwhelming. My journey with mental health has shaped my beliefs, relationships, and aspirations by teaching me that honest conversations can save lives. It has shown me that healing often begins when people feel seen, supported, and equipped. I want to continue building tools and spaces that help young people grow into healthier, wiser, and more grounded adults. For me, that is how I honor my cousin’s life and help bring light to a struggle too many people face in silence.

One of the main reasons I care so deeply about building for young people comes from a painful experience in my own family. My cousin struggled with his mental health, and during that time, he also made unhealthy financial decisions that created even more instability in his life. He misused the money he had, which fed into substance abuse and made an already hard situation worse. Eventually, he had to move back in with my aunt and uncle. Watching that happen changed the way I think about money, discipline, and the kind of support young people need early in life. That experience made me start thinking differently. I kept asking myself what could be built early on to help children develop stronger habits before they are left to figure everything out on their own. That question led me to work with a ragtag group of friends to help build a financial literacy app for kids. We did not want to make something that just looked educational on the surface. We wanted to create a tool that could actually help children learn responsibility, discipline, and money awareness in a way that felt practical and real. Today, the app is in beta and is currently being used in a school. Last month, the founder visited the school for a quarterly review, and the response was encouraging. Students were not only learning about saving and spending. They were also building better habits, asking thoughtful questions, and starting conversations with their families about money. That showed me that financial literacy can do more than teach numbers. It can help young people understand responsibility and think more carefully about their choices. My education and professional path are helping me continue this work with more purpose. Through product design, UX thinking, and graduate study in Technology Management at Columbia University, I want to keep building tools that prepare young people for real life. I believe financial literacy can give children and teens a stronger sense of confidence, structure, and direction. This scholarship would do more than support my education. It would help me continue building a platform that teaches discipline, financial responsibility, and wiser decision-making. My goal is to create learning experiences that help young people feel less overwhelmed and more confident in a world that can feel chaotic. By supporting this work, the scholarship would help me grow a product that encourages structure, self-control, and a greater sense of stability for young people and their families.

I still remember sitting with my older cousin at the kitchen table while he tried to make sense of his budget on his phone. He kept tapping through menus, then asked why the numbers changed after he moved money between accounts and paid a small fee. No one had taught him interest, overdrafts, or how one quick choice can ripple into next month’s bills. That moment convinced me to pursue STEM so I can build technology that makes financial learning clear, safe, and practical. I chose a STEM degree because I want the skills to turn human needs into reliable systems, not just attractive screens or good ideas. User experience helps me listen, but STEM training helps me measure, test, and improve products with evidence and accountability. I am pursuing product and technology management to translate real user pain into requirements that engineers can ship, maintain, and scale responsibly. My goal is to lead teams that treat ethics, accessibility, and security as core features from the first sprint. In graduate school at Columbia University, I want a deeper grounding in data, systems thinking, and emerging technology, so I can choose architectures and policies that protect users at scale. I saw that vision come alive while building Shortstacks Finance for Kids, a live web platform that teaches financial literacy through classroom simulations. I worked with a team of all Black engineers, and our shared perspective kept us focused on dignity, clarity, and trust for the communities we serve. As the UX designer, I ran interviews with educators, mapped journeys, created wireframes in Figma, and partnered with engineers as features moved into development. We tested flows with students, simplified confusing steps, and added guidance so learners could recover from mistakes and understand why outcomes changed. The impact I hope to have in STEM is happening now, because Shortstacks reaches BIPOC students before money mistakes become expensive and permanent. Students practice budgeting, saving, and goal setting, while seeing tradeoffs like wants versus needs, short rewards, and long term stability. We built scenarios that connect to real life, like paying for transportation, handling a surprise expense, and choosing whether to borrow or wait. When young people learn these skills early, they gain confidence, avoid predatory traps, and start planning careers where they control their future. We track learning progress through simple metrics, like completed lessons and improved decision patterns, and we share insights with teachers to support students consistently. As a person of color, I want to expand representation by showing students that builders can look like them and still lead with precision. I mentor young Black high school men through Beautillion Militaire, and I use that same approach to coach peers and juniors in design and product work. In the long term, I plan to lead ethical fintech and education products that prioritize privacy, fairness, and measurable outcomes for underserved communities. My STEM path is about building systems that help families make better decisions and proving that inclusive teams create better products for everyone.

My journey with Christianity did not begin with a dramatic altar call or a single life-changing moment. It began with routine. With family. With a church that felt like home. I grew up in the Baptist denomination, and Mt. Zion Glendale shaped my earliest understanding of faith. Church was not just a Sunday obligation. It was woven into my life. I was in children’s choir, served as a junior usher in a blazer that never quite fit right, and attended youth events that often lasted longer than expected. Sunday mornings started early and ended in the parking lot, where conversations stretched so long it felt like an extra service. I learned the language of faith before I understood its depth. Words like grace and obedience came easily, even when their weight did not. Still, I felt something real. Love. Structure. Belonging. When I was baptized at 12, it felt intentional. I was not following a crowd. I was making a choice. I understood that choosing Jesus would not make me perfect, but it would make my life purposeful. As I grew older, my faith shifted from attendance to application. It became less about being present in a building and more about allowing God to shape my decisions. College tested that shift. At Clark Atlanta University, the pressure was constant. Academics pushed me. Social expectations stretched me. I graduated with honors, but that achievement was built on discipline. There were late nights in Trevor Arnett Library, packed schedules, and moments when exhaustion tempted me to cut corners. During those seasons, my faith became practical. I learned to pray even when my words felt limited. I learned to stay disciplined when motivation faded. I learned to protect my integrity when shortcuts seemed easier. Faith stopped being routine. It became resilience. After graduation, my faith matured again. Real life has a way of refining what you believe. There were seasons of financial uncertainty, professional transition, and emotional strain. I realized I could not rely solely on the foundation built in childhood. I needed daily consistency. Scripture became sustaining rather than symbolic. Community became necessary rather than optional. My faith shifted from simply saying, “I believe,” to living, “I trust God enough to move forward even when I cannot see the full picture.” I have learned that God’s guidance is often quiet. It appears in the discipline to do the next right thing. In peace that does not match your circumstances. In strength that carries you through uncertainty. Today, my faith expresses itself through service. I volunteer actively at my church and teach Sunday school for middle and high school students. Teenagers quickly recognize authenticity. They can sense when someone is performing. Teaching them reminds me that faith is not just knowledge. It is consistency. It is living privately what you proclaim publicly. That same conviction shapes my academic and professional goals. I am an admitted student at Columbia University’s School of Professional Studies, pursuing a Master of Science in Technology Management with a concentration in artificial intelligence. My long-term goal is to work in product management within fintech, particularly at institutions like JPMorgan that influence how millions manage their finances. According to the Federal Reserve’s 2023 report, 37 percent of U.S. adults would struggle to cover a $400 emergency expense. That reality motivates me. I want to build ethical, practical financial tools that strengthen families rather than exploit vulnerability. I have already taken steps in that direction by helping develop two live applications, including ShortStacks for Kids, a financial wellness platform that teaches students about debt, credit, assets, and liabilities in clear, accessible language. Christian principles of stewardship, integrity, and service guide how I hope to lead. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial demands of graduate study and allow me to focus more fully on coursework, professional growth, and community service. My goal is simple. Build technology that reflects my faith. Lead with integrity. Create tools that expand financial literacy and opportunity for others.

There was a season when my life felt like it had been reset overnight. No warning. No countdown. One minute, I was a high-performing media and marketing professional in New York City, managing tight deadlines, big campaigns, and real momentum. Next, I was back home, rebuilding from scratch and trying to figure out what had happened. I didn’t have a stable job anymore. I picked up part-time shifts wherever I could and accepted freelance projects just to stay afloat. On paper, I was “working.” But inside, I was carrying stress, uncertainty, and that quiet fear nobody talks about: the fear that maybe you have already peaked and do not know it yet. That part hit hard. What made it heavier was that I was still trying to stay consistent in my faith. I kept showing up to church. I kept mentoring young Black high school boys because I refused to let my struggle become an excuse. Still, I would be lying if I said it was easy. Some nights, I would come home from a shift exhausted or finish a freelance design project around 1 a.m., stare at the ceiling, and think, “Am I doing everything right and still going nowhere?” I was applying. Networking. Rebuilding connections I had spent years developing in the city. Sending follow-ups. Tweaking résumés. Hearing “no.” Or worse, hearing nothing at all. Silence can mess with your head.That was when I learned what it truly means to rely on faith instead of just talking about it. I started praying every day with the same simple request: “God, please intercede on my behalf. Open the doors I cannot open. Give me peace and direction while I wait.”And I had to pray for patience as well because I wanted results on my timeline, immediately. Faith did not remove the pressure. It gave me something stronger than pressure: consistency. Then I hit my lowest point. My girlfriend left. My relationship with my parents was tense. Arguments at home made it feel like I did not even have a safe place to land. When you do not have peace at work or at home, where do you breathe? That season could have broken me. Honestly, it almost did. Instead, it forced me to surrender. I stopped trying to control every outcome and started trusting God with the parts I could not fix. And then God moved. I was hired on the spot for a full-time graphic design role. Just like that. It was not my dream job. It was not the final destination. But it was a stepping stone that gave me stability, health insurance, which matters more than people admit, confidence, and room to breathe. I stopped scrambling week to week. I started thinking clearly again. I could plan instead of panicking. Not long after, another door opened that felt impossible. As an African American man with a big vision and very real financial pressure, being admitted into Columbia University’s School of Professional Studies for a master’s program felt surreal. Columbia. In New York. After I thought that chapter had closed. That acceptance was more than a milestone. It was confirmation. The waiting season had not been wasted. That season strengthened my character. It sharpened my discipline. It deepened my empathy. Now, when I mentor young men, I do not speak from theory. I speak from experience. Faith gave me the endurance to wait, the courage to keep showing up, and the trust to believe provision was coming, even when I could not see how. And sometimes, that is enough.

At 3:30 a.m., while most of the city is asleep, I am already awake. I start my day with a workout and quiet time to prepare mentally for what is ahead. That habit began in college, not because I wanted to be known as someone who wakes up early, but because I needed structure. Balancing academics, work, and personal goals forced me to become intentional with my time. I realized quickly that strong results do not come from waiting for motivation. They come from choosing discipline, even when it would be easier not to. I believe I am a strong candidate for this scholarship because I have consistently turned discipline into measurable results and meaningful impact. I earned my Bachelor’s degree from Clark Atlanta University in Marketing, with a minor in Graphic Design, graduating with a 3.5 GPA. I pursued coursework that challenged both my creativity and analytical thinking because I wanted to become a professional who understands strategy as well as execution. My education shaped how I communicate, solve problems, and approach complex challenges with clarity. Beyond the classroom, I made sure my learning translated into action. I used design as a practical tool rather than simply an artistic outlet. I created visual materials, supported marketing campaigns, and collaborated on team projects where deadlines and quality standards were nonnegotiable. Through these experiences, I learned how to accept constructive feedback, revise efficiently, and maintain high standards under pressure. I also developed the confidence to contribute in meetings, ask thoughtful questions, and approach every assignment as a reflection of my values. What sets my journey apart is that I did not stop at academic exercises. I built products that people can actively use. I have developed two live applications, one published on the Google Play Store and another deployed in the cloud. Bringing those ideas to life required careful planning, research, testing, and continuous refinement. It also pushed me beyond my formal training. I had to learn product development, user experience principles, and how to gather and apply user feedback. Most importantly, I learned perseverance. Completing a product from concept to launch demands consistency long after the excitement of the initial idea fades. Building for real users changed how I define success. When people rely on something you created, small details matter. Clarity matters. Accessibility matters. A confusing interface can waste someone’s time, while thoughtful design can reduce stress and build trust. That perspective reshaped my approach. I no longer focus solely on how something looks. I focus on how it functions, how it serves, and how it respects the user’s experience. Service and community remain central to my goals. I continue to volunteer and contribute to initiatives that extend beyond my personal achievements because I believe success should create opportunities for others. My long term vision is to develop tools that make complex situations easier to navigate, particularly in areas such as financial literacy, emergency preparedness, and resource accessibility. I am motivated to create solutions that meet people where they are and help them move forward with confidence. This scholarship is especially meaningful to me as an independent student who understands the reality of pursuing excellence with limited resources. I have learned to budget carefully, plan strategically, and make sacrifices that align with my long term goals. I am not seeking support to attempt improvement. I am seeking support to expand proven effort. An investment in me would allow me to deepen my academic focus, continue developing impactful products, and broaden the reach of the work I have already begun. My journey reflects resilience and forward momentum. I chose a path that demands consistency, adaptability, and accountability. There have been periods when academic pressure, workload, and financial responsibilities felt overwhelming. Rather than allowing those challenges to become excuses, I created systems and routines that sustained me. I learned how to persist through uncertainty and fatigue without compromising my standards. That discipline enabled my academic success, supported the launch of real products, and continues to shape my growth. If selected, I will represent this scholarship with integrity and purpose. I will continue striving for academic excellence, building solutions that address real needs, and honoring the commitment to finish what I start. I do not want to be recognized solely for potential. I want to be recognized for consistency, impact, and character. This scholarship would not simply help me reach my next milestone. It would accelerate the meaningful work I am already doing to become a leader who creates opportunities for others.

I became a fan of Sabrina Carpenter through my longtime girlfriend. When Short n’ Sweet was released, she played it nonstop. It arrived during a season when we truly needed it because our relationship was at its lowest point. We were stressed, misreading each other, and letting small frustrations escalate into major arguments. Two songs, Taste and Nonsense, became our reset. Taste gave voice to emotions we had been avoiding, such as pride, jealousy, and vulnerability, and helped us talk without assigning blame. Nonsense was just as important because it brought joy back into our relationship. On nights when we felt distant, we would play it in the car and sing along, and the tension would ease enough for us to listen instead of react. The music gave us a shared language when our own words felt too risky. It also reminded me that discipline and softness can coexist and that you can be serious about your future while still protecting the people you love. That routine did not magically fix everything, but it helped us rebuild our connection day by day by checking in, apologizing sooner, and choosing patience over ego. It impacted my life by teaching me that healthy relationships are built through small, consistent acts of care. I carry that lesson into my goals to show up, communicate clearly, and keep growing even when it is hard.