Life will inevitably bring challenges, but for people from underserved communities those challenges can feel overwhelming and constant. It’s one thing to face personal struggles and a whole other thing to navigate systemic barriers layered on top. As a Black woman pursuing higher education in a predominantly white field, with Black women making up only about 4% of therapists nationwide, my experience with adversity plays out both in the classroom and internally. In most of my graduate school classes, I’m either the only Black woman or one of two. This lack of representation creates a host of external and internal challenges. Externally, I often hear racially insensitive comments from peers. While these remarks usually aren’t intended to be harmful, they often reinforce stereotypes about the Black community. As someone committed to the mental health field, I feel a personal responsibility to speak up—not out of ego, but because I know my classmates will be working with clients from communities like mine. I want to ensure they receive perspectives they won’t find in the curriculum. While I value this role, it’s emotionally exhausting to constantly educate others, especially in a space where I also deserve to learn and feel safe. Internally, this lack of representation has fueled impostor syndrome. I’ve questioned whether this program is truly for me and if the University just brought Black folks in there to check a diversity box. These thoughts are invasive and isolating. But I’ve come to understand that impostor syndrome often shows up when we’re breaking into spaces that were never designed for us. I’ve had to learn that my presence isn’t just valid—it’s necessary. I’ve overcome these challenges by learning how to advocate for myself. Even when the curriculum wasn’t made for students like me, I’ve chosen to take up space and make my voice heard. I’ve leaned on my community—mentors, friends, and fellow students of color—to remind me of my worth and to stay grounded. I practice self-love, prioritize my mental health, and give myself grace. These actions help me reclaim my power in a system that often tries to strip it away. To anyone facing similar circumstances, I would say this: Don’t shrink yourself. Your voice matters. Take up space, even when it’s uncomfortable. Seek out your community and allow them to remind you of who you are. Also, when the curriculum isn't giving you what you need, find external resources that can further your education. You deserve to have all your needs fulfilled. The adversity you’re facing isn’t a reflection of your inadequacy—it’s proof that you are pushing boundaries and opening doors for others.

I was 5 years old when I realized my great aunt, who I adored, was suffering. Of course, as a five-year-old, I didn’t understand what schizophrenia was or the real-life implications of the diagnosis. All I knew was that she was often upset and unaware that the things she saw and believed were not true. I remember loving her so deeply and at the same time being scared and confused about what she was going through. And I think that about sums up what most people who are living with a severely mentally ill family member must feel. While the love is still there it is often overshadowed with hopelessness. My experience with my great aunt and my own later battle with depression and anxiety have inspired me to become a therapist working primarily with underserved communities. I would like to help normalize seeking out mental health services because I know that in my own family and community, there is a stigma. And once I broke the mold and decided to go to therapy for my depression and anxiety in my late teens I realized how beneficial it could have been for my aunt to receive similar services. Therapy helped me realize it is okay to not be okay and that I am not a burden on my family, friends, and society. Talking to someone who genuinely cared and wanted the best for me helped me realize that I didn’t have to be so alone. It removed the overwhelming hopelessness from my life. I often wonder how long my aunt could have lived, and how much joy she could have experienced if my family knew to listen and get her help. Affordable mental health care and increased access to therapists and psychiatrists could have made a profound difference in her life. Unfortunately, high costs and limited availability often prevent families like mine from accessing the care they desperately need. Mental illness impacts not just the individual but their entire family and community. Watching my aunt struggle showed me how important it is to provide holistic support to both those suffering and their loved ones. Mental health challenges don’t occur in isolation—they ripple outward. I want to build a practice that addresses not only individual therapy but also community education and outreach to reduce stigma and increase awareness. I know the challenges my aunt faced were not unique. Many families experience similar situations, feeling helpless due to financial barriers or a lack of resources. My goal is to be an advocate for affordable and accessible care while providing a safe and welcoming space for healing. I believe everyone deserves the chance to reclaim their lives and find joy again, and I am committed to making that a reality through my work as a therapist. And that is why I hope to become the therapist that my community needs, one that could have helped my aunt. And one that will be compassionate and loving while bridging the gap for folks who may not know the benefits of getting help.