My career uses creativity as inspiration and protest. It’s a sign of who I am and how I plan to change the world with my chosen major. Most people choose more structured, and in some cases “more respected,” career fields such as engineering, medicine, and law, but my field is all about exercising freedom and justice through creative avenues and abstract concepts. In other words, I’m a creative that uses both my words and art, especially in film, to live authentically and open conversations to the ugly truths of society. My degree consists of majoring in Documentary Filmmaking, as well as minoring in Writing. I not only learn the history and terminology when it comes to documentaries, but I also gain insight to all positions of the film industry, helping me determine what I really want to do after graduation. Through this, I realized I want to make a positive impact on the world by focusing on the good, bad, and ugly experiences of my generation today, as well as promote change for future generations. One of these experiences include Adolescent Mental Health, where we face a crisis of our generation experiencing trauma and they’re unable to receive proper care due to lack of research and empathy. I use my own experiences and disorder as material for my spoken word poetry, in hopes of showing other youth that mental health is real and we should advocate for not only medical professionals to take it seriously, but our families and inner circles too. As far as film, documentaries serve as visual representation of what goes on in the world. Through a narrative lens, I plan to make films that surround minority struggles but include the joyful times in different cultures, whether it’s about ethnicity, games, music, or other aspects of life. That is why I chose my major, as well as my minor. Both give me tools to advocate and open conversations between our youth and older generations, highlighting issues that must be addressed in order to implement change. As stated before, building my confidence in my words and visual art through my major, and minor, let me stay true to who I am and what mark I want to leave on this world. If awarded this scholarship, I would invest what I earned into my college expenses and equipment for future endeavors. For example, I would put money aside for books, housing, and other necessities for medical purposes, such as managing my Bipolar Disorder. I would then invest money into buying a camera and a camera carrier so that I can practice filming and editing. With the rest of the award, I would put away in stocks so that I create generational wealth for myself and my future children. In short, this award will help me carve a future I want and see for myself, allowing me to be successful emotionally, financially, and physically.

My career uses creativity as inspiration and protest. It’s a sign of who I am and how I plan to change the world with my chosen major. Most people choose more structured, and in some cases “more respected,” career fields such as engineering, medicine, and law, but my field is all about exercising freedom and justice through creative avenues and abstract concepts. In other words, I’m a creative that uses both my words and art, especially in film, to live authentically and open conversations to the ugly truths of society. My degree consists of majoring in Documentary Filmmaking, as well as minoring in Writing. I not only learn the history and terminology when it comes to documentaries, but I also gain insight to all positions of the film industry, helping me determine what I really want to do after graduation. Through this, I realized I want to make a positive impact on the world by focusing on the good, bad, and ugly experiences of my generation today, as well as promote change for future generations. One of these experiences include Adolescent Mental Health, where we face a crisis of our generation experiencing trauma and they’re unable to receive proper care due to lack of research and empathy. I use my own experiences and disorder as material for my spoken word poetry, in hopes of showing other youth that mental health is real and we should advocate for not only medical professionals to take it seriously, but our families and inner circles too. As far as film, documentaries serve as visual representation of what goes on in the world. Through a narrative lens, I plan to make films that surround minority struggles but include the joyful times in different cultures, whether it’s about ethnicity, games, music, or other aspects of life. That is why I chose my major, as well as my minor. Both give me tools to advocate and open conversations between our youth and older generations, highlighting issues that must be addressed in order to implement change. As stated before, building my confidence in my words and visual art through my major, and minor, let me stay true to who I am and what mark I want to leave on this world. If awarded this scholarship, I would invest what I earned into my college expenses and equipment for future endeavors. For example, I would put money aside for books, housing, and other necessities for medical purposes, such as managing my Bipolar Disorder. I would then invest money into buying a camera and a camera carrier so that I can practice filming and editing. With the rest of the award, I would put away in stocks so that I create generational wealth for myself and my future children. In short, this award will help me carve a future I want and see for myself, allowing me to be successful emotionally, financially, and physically.

What I want to build is myself. I don’t mean just in my career as a filmmaker, spoken word poet, or an overall creative. I want to build myself in terms of confidence, self-worth, and authenticity. I already know who I am and what I want to do with my life. It’s now a matter of carving a path that will allow me to love who I already am and to stay true to my chosen professions and goals. Through this, the person I am and the person I will be in whatever further timeline will always have one thing in common; They will love themselves and evolve no matter what obstacles they must face. Creativity and authenticity is how I plan to build my future. It’s both beneficial for my line of work and personal to who I am as an individual. They not only give me confidence in what I choose to do, whether it’s film, poetry, or any creative avenues that allow me to live a comfortable and purposeful life. They provide me reassurance in the freedom I have in my mind and soul. Though my bipolar disorder does present difficult challenges that hinder my everyday activities and mental processes, my creativity reminds me of my ability to communicate, problem solve, and imagine different ideas and possibilities for the future. In other words, my creativity helps me think outside the box, focusing on how I can improve both my work and myself as a human being. Regarding authenticity, building myself means staying true to who I am. Authenticity is based on how I personally move through life and what works for me when it comes to decision-making. It also means I have to build my discerning, knowing the difference between constructive criticism and someone else’s opinion. I can listen to other people’s advice, which come from their own personal experiences, but those decisions are ultimately up to me. That is why I hope to build myself and my future by listening to me. I have to look at what I want, what I need, and what I plan to do for my career. I hope living my life confidently and authentically will also inspire my generation, as well as our youth, to look within themselves, deciding how they want to move in the world and what they will do to make sure their own dreams become a reality.

In the past, I helped people with basic needs. By volunteering at different food banks and clean-up groups, I made my own effort in helping people survive conditions and circumstances that made it difficult for them to live comfortably. Recently, however, there was someone close to me that needed help, but it didn’t involve anything physical or materialistic. It was something that couldn’t be measured nor counted, and that’s when I learned to listen rather than assume. Emotional wellbeing is just as important as meeting someone’s physical needs. One of my loved ones struggles with communication, specifically with her family. I’ve lent a listening ear as a way of showing my support, but over time things escalated. It reached a point where she comes over to my house every now and then just to get away and decompress. At first, I figured that was enough to help her cope with her circumstances, but after one recent visit to my house, I learned that her problems ran deeper than she had initially explained. There were many emotions and feelings that my loved one expressed. It started with her family, specifically her mother. Then, it expanded to political and social issues that our generation is facing today. From certain politicians, to unnecessary advancements in generative technology and AI, my loved one had so much to say but nowhere to say it, or at least nowhere that’s safe enough for her to say anything at all. However, her words were not what caught my attention. It was more so the fact that she was able to share with so much passion, possibly from repressed frustration and sadness. From my perspective, it was as if my loved one finally had a chance to be her true self. There were no filters, no apologies, and no shrinking into herself. It was just me and her having a very raw and honest conversation. My listening ears were not what she needed, but rather the space I gave her to feel safe enough to let out her true feelings. She taught me that physical needs, which are also referred to as life essentials, are important for getting through when life becomes too difficult to manage. However, providing safe spaces for people to express what they need is also crucial for meeting people where they are. It prevents us from assuming and pushes us to listen to all their needs.

Most assume education is a linear path of learning and demonstration with occasional exceptions, depending on the individual. Some may take different classes at different times, but ultimately those individuals reach the same goal, and that’s to graduate with a decent GPA and be in good academic standing to get accepted into college. In most cases, my resumé was my saving grace. If schools looked at my dedication to numerous and various activities outside of school, I would be and stay on their consideration lists, long enough for someone to notice and make a decision. Although very vague and broad, this plan served as a foundation for my future endeavors and career choices, at least at first. Over time, with enough mental and emotional challenges throughout my high school experience, I realized that there’s more to education than studying for an exam or passing a class just to register for a new one next semester. There were certain classes you needed to graduate, but there was some leeway for students to explore other courses, mostly some that tailored to what they wanted to study in college. All my life, my mother’s voice played in the darkest parts of my mind, reminding me to make my education a priority and keep my GPA up no matter what. Unfortunately, because of my literalisms, I took it to heart rather than face value. I put studying over rest, homework over healing, and achievement over sanity. Every step I took was for the next institution that would accept me, not for my own success and wellbeing. Even getting to the point of enrolling for Spelman College, a school I hoped and dreamed of going to since my freshman year of high school, I had to overcome many insecurities and emotional roadblocks. I was, and sometimes still am, self conscious about my outer appearance, my character, my actions concerning my mental health, and my ability to handle multiple responsibilities at one time. All of these, however, had one common theme. They were results from the lack of confidence I had in myself, along with significant emotional traumas I kept neglecting in my adolescent stage, praying they would disappear on their own. My first semester in college, however, made things very clear in terms of how poorly I took care of my health. Although schoolwork was never an issue for me, I still didn’t take breaks when I needed to. The fear of feeling less than others and not being good enough were toxic motivations, and ultimately resulted in my withdrawal from the spring semester. That was my rock bottom, but it was also my wake up call. From a treatment program in a mental health facility to managing my symptoms through medication and therapy, I am now slowly but surely learning who I truly am and how I want to live my life. Today, it’s still difficult for me to discuss these personal matters with anyone, but I continue to do so in hopes of inspiring someone else to speak up for themselves and for those they love. I plan to study Documentary Filmmaking, as well as minor in Writing when I return to school in the fall of 2026. Films, whether fiction or nonfiction, served as a safe space and reminder of my own creativity in words and visuals. The production, and storyline behind each film I’ve watched inspired me to create some of my own. So much history, especially Black History, gets lost when someone hides, neglects, or destroys its existence. Other times, history is repeating itself but in different forms, and no one seems to notice or care about how it’s affecting current generations. With my struggles in mental health, I know the feelings of invisibility amongst friends, foes, and strangers. There are so many thoughts and ideas that race through the human brain, but unless someone shows it on the outside, their experiences and feelings seem nonexistent. I want to make films that acknowledge silence in the pain of my generation and future generations. Capturing and sharing the experiences of people who suffer in silence or have had their heroism fade in the background will create empathy and possibly inspire people to make a change or difference in the world. My films may not persuade a large audience at one time, but if I can help even one person see how different generational curses and mistakes from the past affect our youth, it’ll help everyone else look in themselves and question their own values and what they believe is truly important for the betterment of our world.

Most assume that embodying a life of service means constant volunteering or being the first one to lend a hand when someone needs help. Although this is true, to me, embodying a life of service is making sure I practice what I preach. In other words, I embody a life of service when I lead by example, showing the human side of me and letting people know that it’s okay to feel your emotions, regardless of the circumstance. In high school, I used to volunteer at my local food distribution organization, where I connected with both the staff and other volunteers. At first, I went there because it was only a five-minute walk from my house, plus it would give me all the hours I needed to fulfill my required volunteer hours per academic year. However, as I continued to sign up for more shifts, something clicked for me. Inflation increased in the area I currently live in, especially when it came to buying groceries in bulk. Sometimes my own family couldn’t buy 5 or 6 items without the cost being or going over $100. It was devastating, but volunteering made me feel as though I was doing my small part in helping the cause. However, when I transferred between high schools, my attendance decreased to the point where I stopped going altogether. This was due to mental challenges I experienced in my junior and senior years, but that’s when it hit me. I can still be of service to people, but in a more indirect way. Instead of meeting their basic needs, I can use my voice to share my experiences and the lessons I’ve learned to encourage other people to also stand up for themselves and advocate for what they need. Whether it’s immediate living necessities or having resources available at their leisure, using my voice can inspire the public to use theirs, and it doesn’t have to stop at just my words. I’m currently studying Documentary Filmmaking at Spelman College, hoping to create films that advocate for more research and empathy for mental health, as well as short films that are inspired by current social and political issues. My films can also serve as visual representation of why service to others is not just meeting someone’s basic needs. Embodying a life of service is about inspiring hope and showing up in the best way you can for someone else. It may be through physical donations or giving money back to different organizations that help the less fortunate. It can also be as simple as living your truth, showing someone that it is okay to feel, but there’s always another day and another opportunity to survive and thrive.

Being a leader is not about how many people you can guide, influence, or control. It’s about how much one is willing to be vulnerable but determined to set an example for others to follow, if they so choose. That is why I call myself a leader. I am not perfect, but I always make an effort to do the best I can in whatever state or mindset I’m in. I speak up for myself and, with their permission, for other people when they can’t find the words to express how they feel. I know when to move forward and when to ask for help to keep going. There are many more reasons I call myself a leader, but to put in one phrase, I am a leader because of my vulnerability and resilience. As stated before, I am not perfect. I’m human, which means I am prone to making mistakes in some shape, form, or fashion. However, that’s what it takes to get people to at least listen to what you have to say. I’m willing to share my past and current experiences, as well as missteps I’ve made along the way. For example, I struggle with mental health, specifically with my Bipolar Disorder (Type II). There are days where I feel on top of the world, as if there’s nothing anyone can say or do to tear down my self-esteem. However, there are other days where I feel no better than the ground I walk on. Whether my feelings, or even emotions, come in the form of crying, screaming, or simple isolation from the rest of the world, I still let myself feel. Allowing that space for myself, and sharing that with others, helps me show people that there are dark sides to living, but they don’t have to deal with them alone. That’s why my vulnerability makes me a leader. I’m willing to open up and share the human side of me, instead of portraying a persona that I believe people will listen to. I’m the type of leader that listens and learns, not dictates or demands the impossible. The other part that makes me a leader is my resilience. To me, being resilient means getting back up but deciding how I want to move forwards versus when. There are instances where I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. It’s not because of academic and household responsibilities, but more so how I occupy space in the world. In other words, there are times where I question how I’m going to leave my mark, positively impact others, and navigate my career and personal life all at the same time. Those sort of thoughts weigh me down, to the point where the only person impacting my confidence and worth is me. However, by doing small things for myself, whether it’s a hobby or one chore, reassures me that I still have a lot of fight in me. I don’t always have to take on the world’s problems, but if I’m able to do something for me or for someone, that’s worth acknowledging as well as celebrating. So, I am a leader. I’m a leader because I share to encourage and persevere to guide and advocate. If I can help at least one person, that alone lets me know I have what it takes to lead my generation and future generations to come.

Inspiration to pursue higher education has always come from my family. Whatever I choose to study, or however I carve my career path, they’re always there to support, advise, and encourage me to excel. However, there’s one person in particular that I admire for their hard work and dedication to their craft. That person is, in fact, me. Some may take it as vain, lazy, or unoriginal. However, I admire myself because of the trials and tribulations I went through in order to love who I am today. Situations such as the global shutdown during Covid-19, as well as increased stress from academic and household responsibilities, fed into my distorted sense of belonging and inferiority. I not only felt as though I didn’t belong in certain social circles, but I doubted my own abilities when it came to school work and extracurricular activities. In other words, no matter what I completed or accomplished, none of it was good enough for even the slightest hint of acknowledgment, at least that was my experience at my first high school. When I transferred in my junior year, more things started to fall into place, making it clearer on what I wanted to do with my life. That’s when I came across Spelman. I heard the name and knew it was a liberal arts college, but as I did further research, I fell more and more in love with it, specifically their Documentary Filmmaking Major. Learning how I could learn about my heritage as a black woman, but also how I can share my identity and authenticity with others, was something I truly wanted for myself. That’s how I inspired myself to pursue further education. College is not for everybody, and there are different ways to be successful and advance your talents. However, being educated is universal, regardless if it’s through an institution or not. Personally, I pursued higher education at Spelman to learn how to advocate for myself and the things I want in life. I don’t wish to become successful through somebody else’s framework, but rather carve my own path that shows people who I am and what I can accomplish. From my perspective, Documentary Filmmaking is a play on speech and debate. Instead of just focusing on the words carefully written, proofread, and reviewed by multiple people, filmmaking creates visuals that convey current issues in the world. It’s as effective as speaking in front of different audiences, urging the need to move forward with a just and fair solution. Issues such as proper representation, healthcare, and immigration motivate me to speak out, in more ways than one. Through my words, and my documentary films, I hope to encourage conversations surrounding issues such as these, recognizing their impact and what steps are necessary to resolve them. In other words, filmmaking and speaking out publicly is my speech and debate, and fighting for other people’s rights is my motivation.

Being a child of a single parent is an interesting yet somewhat complicated experience. I best describe it as a blessing and a curse. Although my grandma was in the picture, helping my mother when she was pregnant and taking care of me after I was born, being a single parent alone exposes you to unique situations that only you can explain and persevere through. As I became older, I realized that my mother was not just a single parent by marital law. She was in fact just one parent, carrying the struggles and sacrifices of two people who’d do anything to ensure their child’s wellbeing. Other than me, work was my mother’s priority. It kept our family fed, clothed, and at times some money was put aside for family outings and celebrations. Although I’m grateful for everything my mother did for me and my grandmother, those happy times came at a cost, both in currency and emotional wellbeing. My mother almost never took breaks. For twelve to fourteen hours a day, unfortunately due to Covid, her computer was the key to her survival, not her success. Before the pandemic, my mother had a place to go everyday to do her job. She would be a corporate executive from the morning to late afternoon. However, at home, she would just be my mom, an attentive parent who helped with school events, projects, and homework. Work and home life are now in one place, blurring the lines between stress from occupational obligation and stress from responsibilities in the home. Seeing my mother go through this taught me two lessons. The first lesson was that a great work ethic consists of focus, effort, and never giving up until your task is complete. However, the second lesson revealed the down side of that type of determination. The pandemic tremendously affected my mother’s health, both physically and mentally, and as a result, she pushed herself deeper into her work, fearful that my grandmother and I would not be taken care of. So, that second lesson taught me that when you push yourself so hard by fear and restlessness, both your body and mind will never know when to stop. If they do, it’ll be when you’ve officially crashed and are unable to move or think. Now that I’m approaching my twenties, I understand my mother’s motivations, and struggles, a little bit better. Through her experience, I learned what not to do. She reminded me that it is okay to take breaks when your body and mind need it the most, as well as learn how to tell yourself “no.” I’m grateful to have inherited my mother’s strength to get through tough obstacles and life as a whole. However, I became a strong-willed, independent, and motivated thinker because I was shown a glimpse of how my life will turn out if I neglect my own health, both in my body and my mind.

Post-graduation, I plan to further my career in filmmaking, creative pursuits, and language. Career fields such as engineering, medicine, and law are very well respected and highly researched, which is also why they are very high paying professions. Everything is structured and concrete, including the rate at which each field pays. However, I prefer flexibility and individuality as the foundation for my career as a creative. Through my literary publications, as well as several art-related community projects, I strive to create spaces for people who feel underrepresented, invisible, or, if they’re even noticed by the outside world, have their gifts and talents taken as a joke. That’s why this process starts with me communicating with those individuals, mainly through learning their language to show my dedication to their wellbeing. Gaining a better sense of who they are and what they want out of life will help me understand where and how I can create those safe spaces for people who want and need to be heard. With my family, the story is simple, at least when it comes to what language I grew up speaking. I don’t have an ethnicity that extends beyond the United States. My mother’s from Oklahoma and my father’s from Delaware, but I was born right here in the state of Maryland. So of course, my first language is English. However, from elementary school to now my second semester of college, I’ve been learning Spanish. At first, it was just a fun language to learn. Properly pronouncing a word or being able to construct a sentence from memory always filled me with joy and accomplishment. It made me feel as though I did something right for once. However, in my senior year of high school, I realized Spanish, similar to other languages around the world, was not just another form of communicating with people outside the U.S, or learning enough words to buy food and souvenirs. It’s about intimate connections, understanding, and in some cases, survival. There are many benefits to learning different languages, but there are certain barriers that come with that knowledge. For example, a person learning a new language may feel insecure when speaking around other native speakers. In my case, I used to feel as though I was mocking people or trying to “steal their culture” just because I wanted to learn and practice. However, with multiple conversations with my peers, I learned that it’s more appreciated than antagonized when someone takes interest in another place’s language and culture. It shows that people want to know how to speak and make the people around them feel comfortable, most of all seen. Learning another language can be a fun hobby, but it can also have a much more sentimental meaning for whomever attempts to speak another person’s native tongue. My career thrives on communication and connection, and learning different languages to connect with people around the world is just the beginning.

All three subjects have impacted my life in some shape, form, or fashion. One did not exist without the other or both. At most times they made me question if I could mingle amongst people who I assumed were better and well-equipped to handle life’s challenges, or if I even deserved to live at all. Throughout my high school career, my mental health slowly crumbled and distorted my brain, suicidal ideation took over most of my thought processes, and learning how I best identify myself and my attraction towards others became a never ending arguement between my head and my heart. The most difficult and emotionally draining aspect of my life, however, was my mental health. Until a few weeks ago, I assumed my mental health journey started in high school, where the counseling office essentially became a study room and an escape for me. Now, with all that I’ve learned about myself and the disorder I suffer from, I realized my emotional trauma started as far back as elementary school. There weren’t many things I could remember from that time, at least not until my mother showed me an old entry I wrote in the 5th grade. In just a few sentences, I expressed how lonely I felt in a room full of people who I thought didn’t like me and as a result, my younger self wished she had never been born. It was devastating for my mother, but even more so for me. It was one out of many signs that my mental health was slowly declining, and it went unchecked for years. Because of this string of events and my feelings going unchecked, I had a mental crisis in the beginning of my second semester in college, which resulted in my withdrawal from school to get professional help. Today, I sit at home implementing strategies and coping skills for my symptoms, as well as trying my best to trust and engage in the world again. There are so many things I want to accomplish in my career and personal life. However, it starts with me making sure that my health, whether mental, physical, or emotional, is monitored, managed, and overall taken care of. Even though my brain contains my dreams and goals for the future, it also stores many self-deprecating thoughts, to the point where I bully myself into feeling worthless. This type of healing process is a painful experience, but it did teach me one thing. It taught me how to speak up and out about my feelings and how certain situations greatly affect me. Through my voice alone, I’m able to get the help I need and encourage others to take their own health seriously, regardless of the obstacles presented in their own healing journey.

Most assume education is a linear path of learning and demonstration with occasional exceptions, depending on the individual. Some may take different classes at different times, but ultimately those individuals reach the same goal, and that’s to graduate with a decent GPA and be in good academic standing to get accepted into college. In most cases, my resumé was my saving grace. If schools looked at my dedication to numerous and various activities outside of school, I would be and stay on their consideration lists, long enough for someone to notice and make a decision. Although very vague and broad, this plan served as a foundation for my future endeavors and career choices, at least at first. Over time, with enough mental and emotional challenges throughout my high school experience, I realized that there’s more to education than studying for an exam or passing a class just to register for a new one next semester. There were certain classes you needed to graduate, but there was some leeway for students to explore other courses, mostly some that tailored to what they wanted to study in college. All my life, my mother’s voice played in the darkest parts of my mind, reminding me to make my education a priority and keep my GPA up no matter what. Unfortunately, because of my literalisms, I took it to heart rather than face value. I put studying over rest, homework over healing, and achievement over sanity. Every step I took was for the next institution that would accept me, not for my own success and wellbeing. Even getting to the point of enrolling for Spelman College, a school I hoped and dreamed of going to since my freshman year of high school, I had to overcome many insecurities and emotional roadblocks. I was, and sometimes still am, self conscious about my outer appearance, my character, my actions concerning my mental health, and my ability to handle multiple responsibilities at one time. All of these, however, had one common theme. They were results from the lack of confidence I had in myself, along with significant emotional traumas I kept neglecting in my adolescent stage, praying they would disappear on their own. My first semester in college, however, made things very clear in terms of how poorly I took care of my health. Although schoolwork was never an issue for me, I still didn’t take breaks when I needed to. The fear of feeling less than others and not being good enough were toxic motivations, and ultimately resulted in my withdrawal from the spring semester. That was my rock bottom, but it was also my wake up call. From a treatment program in a mental health facility to managing my symptoms through medication and therapy, I am now slowly but surely learning who I truly am and how I want to live my life. Today, it’s still difficult for me to discuss these personal matters with anyone, but I continue to do so in hopes of inspiring someone else to speak up for themselves and for those they love. I plan to study Documentary Filmmaking, as well as minor in Writing when I return to school in the fall of 2026. Films, whether fiction or nonfiction, served as a safe space and reminder of my own creativity in words and visuals. The production, and storyline behind each film I’ve watched inspired me to create some of my own. So much history, especially Black History, gets lost when someone hides, neglects, or destroys its existence. Other times, history is repeating itself but in different forms, and no one seems to notice or care about how it’s affecting current generations. With my struggles in mental health, I know the feelings of invisibility amongst friends, foes, and strangers. There are so many thoughts and ideas that race through the human brain, but unless someone shows it on the outside, their experiences and feelings seem nonexistent. I want to make films that acknowledge silence in the pain of my generation and future generations. Capturing and sharing the experiences of people who suffer in silence or have had their heroism fade in the background will create empathy and possibly inspire people to make a change or difference in the world. My films may not persuade a large audience at one time, but if I can help even one person see how different generational curses and mistakes from the past affect our youth, it’ll help everyone else look in themselves and question their own values and what they believe is truly important for the betterment of our world.

Being a child of a single parent is an interesting yet somewhat complicated experience. I best describe it as a blessing and a curse. Although my grandma was in the picture, helping my mother when she was pregnant and taking care of me after I was born, being a single parent alone exposes you to unique situations that only you can explain and persevere through. As I became older, I realized that my mother was not just a single parent by marital law. She was in fact just one parent, carrying the struggles and sacrifices of two people who’d do anything to ensure their child’s wellbeing. Other than me, work was my mother’s priority. It kept our family fed, clothed, and at times some money was put aside for family outings and celebrations. Although I’m grateful for everything my mother did for me and my grandmother, those happy times came at a cost, both in currency and emotional wellbeing. My mother almost never took breaks. For twelve to fourteen hours a day, unfortunately due to Covid, her computer was the key to her survival, not her success. Before the pandemic, my mother had a place to go everyday to do her job. She would be a corporate executive from the morning to late afternoon. However, at home, she would just be my mom, an attentive parent who helped with school events, projects, and homework. Work and home life are now in one place, blurring the lines between stress from occupational obligation and stress from responsibilities in the home. Seeing my mother go through this taught me two lessons. The first lesson was that a great work ethic consists of focus, effort, and never giving up until your task is complete. However, the second lesson revealed the down side of that type of determination. The pandemic tremendously affected my mother’s health, both physically and mentally, and as a result, she pushed herself deeper into her work, fearful that my grandmother and I would not be taken care of. So, that second lesson taught me that when you push yourself so hard by fear and restlessness, both your body and mind will never know when to stop. If they do, it’ll be when you’ve officially crashed and are unable to move or think. Now that I’m approaching my twenties, I understand my mother’s motivations, and struggles, a little bit better. Through her experience, I learned what not to do. She reminded me that it is okay to take breaks when your body and mind need it the most, as well as learn how to tell yourself “no.” I’m grateful to have inherited my mother’s strength to get through tough obstacles and life as a whole. However, I became a strong-willed, independent, and motivated thinker because I was shown a glimpse of how my life will turn out if I neglect my own health, both in my body and my mind.

Under some assumptions, my story would start at the beginning of high school, where I delve into my experiences in the first two years, including the mental breakdowns I experienced while being there. Then, somewhere in the middle, I would mention my transfer to a different school, where I rediscovered myself and created an identity that shows the world who I truly am. After that, my decision to go to an HBCU and why I chose my specific college would then serve as my grand finale. However, that’s not how I tell my story anymore. My journey starts in my senior year of high school, one of the most difficult years of my life. I maintained my grades and GPA, but the only things I learned were the struggles of having mental challenges and advocating for myself, urging the need for professional help. Since my brain was mainly used for my studies, I put my mental wellbeing in the farthest parts of my brain. That way, I wouldn’t have to deal with the reality that I had an undiagnosed mental disorder, one that needed therapy and medication. However, as an alternative, I spent most of my time in the counseling office. The staff were not licensed therapists, but nonetheless they made the effort to understand how a student coped with everyday, especially when she doesn’t know when, how, or why her brain processes information differently or stops altogether. Although my graduation was a celebration, as well as a personal triumph, I couldn’t help but cringe every time I share my story and they reply with, “You did it. You made it through.” While those phrases can be encouraging, they also, unfortunately, have the power to invalidate all the struggles I had to endure to get to where I am. Just because I got to the other side does not mean I wasn’t harmed in the process. I still carry those scars with me today, mentally, physically, and emotionally. In the midst of my healing journey, I had my eyes set on Spelman. It wasn’t just the fact it was an HBCU, where I could bond, learn, and connect with people who look like and share similar ideas. It was a place where black women forge their own paths, advance their personal and professional lives, and invest time into their own futures. The rich history also persuaded me to join the Spelman community. Despite the prejudice and discrimination of the outside world, the founders and students of the college continued to lift up one another and promote true sisterhood throughout the campus and the world. Because of that alone, being a part of an HBCU means actively learning your roots, being proud of who you are, and continuing to invest in yourself and your future. It gives you the space and freedom to discover how you want to live your life in the skin that you are in. With my degree and my personal experiences, I strive to be a symbol of perseverance and change for my family and my community. Majoring in Documentary Filmmaking allows me to learn the fundamentals of producing a film that is both eye-catching and informational. I want my films to capture the struggles of my generation, urging society to better the world for the ones to come. Additionally, my minor in writing will diversify my interactions with other people. That way, I can still deliver my ideas and messages, but convey them in different ways that people can understand. Every obstacle from my senior year to now has truly opened my eyes to one thing. My silence is a disservice to my community, but my truth is an invitation to change and unity.

Being a child of a single parent is an interesting yet somewhat complicated experience. I best describe it as a blessing and a curse. Although my grandma was in the picture, helping my mother when she was pregnant and taking care of me after I was born, being a single parent alone exposes you to unique situations that only you can explain and persevere through. As I became older, I realized that my mother was not just a single parent by marital law. She was in fact just one parent, carrying the struggles and sacrifices of two people who’d do anything to ensure their child’s wellbeing. Other than me, work was my mother’s priority. It kept our family fed, clothed, and at times some money was put aside for family outings and celebrations. Although I’m grateful for everything my mother did for me and my grandmother, those happy times came at a cost, both in currency and emotional wellbeing. My mother almost never took breaks. For twelve to fourteen hours a day, unfortunately due to Covid, her computer was the key to her survival, not her success. Before the pandemic, my mother had a place to go everyday to do her job. She would be a corporate executive from the morning to late afternoon. However, at home, she would just be my mom, an attentive parent who helped with school events, projects, and homework. Work and home life are now in one place, blurring the lines between stress from occupational obligation and stress from responsibilities in the home. Seeing my mother go through this taught me two lessons. The first lesson was that a great work ethic consists of focus, effort, and never giving up until your task is complete. However, the second lesson revealed the down side of that type of determination. The pandemic tremendously affected my mother’s health, both physically and mentally, and as a result, she pushed herself deeper into her work, fearful that my grandmother and I would not be taken care of. So, that second lesson taught me that when you push yourself so hard by fear and restlessness, both your body and mind will never know when to stop. If they do, it’ll be when you’ve officially crashed and are unable to move or think. Now that I’m approaching my twenties, I understand my mother’s motivations, and struggles, a little bit better. Through her experience, I learned what not to do. She reminded me that it is okay to take breaks when your body and mind need it the most, as well as learn how to tell yourself “no.” I’m grateful to have inherited my mother’s strength to get through tough obstacles and life as a whole. However, I became a strong-willed, independent, and motivated thinker because I was shown a glimpse of how my life will turn out if I neglect my own health, both in my body and my mind.

Anxiety is not just an obstacle. It’s an illness that cripples the mind, body, and soul. It acts as though it's a parasite, sitting and waiting for the right moment to suck the life out of you. By the time you realize what it does to you, it’s too late. That is what anxiety is like for me. There are many things in the world today that would make anyone anxious and worried, including loss of jobs, lack of access to certain resources, and situations that can put a person’s mental and physical health in jeopardy. However, what I’ve learned is that being anxious is not the same thing as having anxiety. In my freshman and sophomore years of highschool, tests would make me anxious. I would assume that no matter how hard I studied for an assessment, I would either fail or receive a grade that was below satisfactory. Other things such as homework and projects would also cause me to be anxious. In other words, school-related work, as well as after-school activities, would sometimes make me anxious, meaning nervous enough to question if everything will turn out alright. Anxiety, however, is an entirely different ballpark. In the middle of my sophomore year, I had very few friends that understood the pressure I was under when it came to my GPA, more specifically the pressure I used to put on myself to be perfect. If my GPA was not good enough, I would never get into college. Either my dream school would reject me or my reputation as an excellent student would go down the drain, never being able to recover. Then, because excellence was no longer a part of my vocabulary, no one, including my friends and family, would want to be around a failure like me. That is what anxiety is for me. It’s a toxic mentality that messes with my self-esteem and the way I perceive my self worth. No matter how much encouragement I receive, nor how many times people try to tell me how much they love me, there are these thoughts that act like ticks attached to my brain. I can’t touch them, so I can’t fix myself by removing them. Anxiety made me invalidate my emotions, therefore invalidating myself and what I wanted to believe about my skills and gifts. After this experience, I made a promise that I would never treat anyone else with invalidation and cause them to question who they are. That is why this scholarship will be a great investment into my college journey and future career as a creator and advocate for peace. Pursuing a college degree means educating myself on issues that have not been dealt with. It’ll help me understand where and why they had a huge impact on society and how I can develop proper solutions to address them. A college degree doesn’t define my future. It is a mark of my determination to follow my dreams, in spite of the adversity when faced with anxiety.

Social issues today are not just affecting my community, but they’re affecting the world as a whole, and the main one that’s affecting our youth is the Mental Health Crisis. Unfortunately, I was a product of this crisis ever since Covid-19 swept the world off its feet. Both the after-effects and the disease itself impacted the younger generations, and it took a toll on our social skills, as well as our communication. That is why it’s important for everyone to understand what mental health is and why it’s so important to take care of it. In most ways, mental health is a very slippery slope. There are days where a person can feel on top of the world, and then there are days where they feel no better than the dirt they walk on. Because it’s not something tangible like cancer or a cold, some assume mental health is not a real thing, let alone a real issue that’s affecting multiple communities. Along with mental health, another issue that’s affecting my community is lack of knowledge. In some cases, it may be too late to get help or fix whatever the issue is, and that’s the problem I work to tackle everyday, especially with my generation. I’ve had my own experiences with mental health, in more ways than one. However, looking back on every situation I encountered, my experiences taught me two valuable lessons. One of them was learning to take myself seriously. The times where I couldn't explain what was wrong made me feel insane, but with the support of my family, I quickly learned that I had to seek help, which is the second lesson I learned. I had to learn that getting help is not a sign of weakness, but rather a form of strength. Using that, I was able to start my own nonprofit that surrounded this very issue. “My Words, My Worth” provides young people safe spaces and opportunities to heal and grow. Through monthly gatherings and activities, the nonprofit gives them a chance to express themselves and find their voices, or in this case rediscover them. Expanding this effort means talking more openly about the Mental Health Crisis, educating older generations of its effects, and doing more research so that other facilities can improve their treatments. It’s not an easy road, but every little bit helps.

There have been many trials and tribulations when it came to my academic career and personal life. Some were simple hurdles that stifled my progression, but then there were others that felt like walls that were unbreakable. One of these walls was, and still is, my mental health journey. I clearly remember a time in my freshman and sophomore years of high school when people kept telling me that I just had trouble adjusting to my surroundings, but I knew in my heart that it wasn’t true. My financial background wasn’t as extravagant as my peers, nor were my mannerisms and traits congruent with their norms. During those two years, my brain convinced me that I was different, and that in order for me to progress, I had to change myself to fit everyone else’s standard of “good and acceptable.” However, thanks to the realization of my self worth, I escaped my old school and transitioned to a new environment where I’m truly appreciated for who I am and what my gifts are. At least through my experiences from the previous school, I learned a lot about self respect and prioritizing myself, especially when my mind is not in the right space to function properly. I wish to continue this path of self discovery and great achievement, and with this scholarship, I will be able to fund my future. In other words, the money will not only allow me to fund my educational journey, but it will also help me build my career in teaching others how to love themselves and make themselves their main priority.

The one obstacle that stumbles even the strongest people, yet no one seems to recognize, is mental health. It’s not so much understanding what mental health is, but more so identifying when it starts to decline or worsen. Picture an invisible wall, a barrier that no one can see, yet you still feel it there. No matter how many times you try to push or knock it down, it’s still there, staring directly at you. Then you feel the stares of others, piercing your flesh like needles in your skin, so much so that you convince yourself that insanity has won and taken over the world, including your physical health. That’s what my mental health journey is, and it’s the very thing that I strive to understand so that I can help others who feel their walls closing in and suffocating them. I was first exposed to the possibility of poor mental health in the 9th grade. At first, there were little things. Some kids wouldn’t necessarily go out of their way to talk to me, nor would they try to invite me in their activities and social circles. So, I found myself going out of my way to interact with them, mainly for the purpose of obtaining their friendship. It then slowly crippled down to being ignored, isolated, and relying on people to give me validation for my accomplishments. There were even times where I would sit alone in a secluded area on campus, just so none of the few friends I did make could see me overwhelmed and emotional. My feelings became fragile, and my emotions flowed like neverending rapids. I didn’t know if I was doing enough, nor did I know if what I was doing was right at all. However, one of the few things that kept my sanity intact was my writing, specifically poetry and prose. It allowed me to escape the harsh realities of my situation, giving me a chance to write my own happy endings, and when I transferred from my previous school, I promised myself to carry that gift for the rest of my life. I learned many things from that experience, but the fundamental lesson it taught me was the importance of self-validation. Through my writing, I gave myself a voice and point of view. It not only allows me to express my concerns about different issues, but it gives me a chance to reveal how I see the world. There will be times where insanity takes over, making you feel like you’re constantly living a fantasy. However, your gifts and experiences are like the art supplies to your blank surface, where they’re fit for your masterpiece, and no one else’s.

When I choose my extracurriculars, I want them to be a reflection of who I am as a person. They’re not only a source of creative expression for me, but they also show other institutions that I take both my academics and my personal life seriously. Some people join debate teams because they love articulating their views. Others may love sports because it gives them a chance to get out, as well as keep their health in good condition. However, the extracurriculars I’m involved in don’t just excite me and give me a chance to switch things up. They’re opportunities for me to better myself and better my community, because at the end of the day, we’re all here to support one another and build each other up to achieve what may seem impossible. An extracurricular activity that I’m most passionate about is the Step Team. At first, I was anxious about joining and assumed, like the dance team, you needed to have prior experience or some sort of skill to be a part of it. I even thought I had to try out and see if I was good enough to even join the team. However, the team operated as a school club, therefore anyone could join, regardless of skill or experience. Because of this, the anxiety I had washed away and I truly immersed myself in the team. It not only allowed me to bond with my sisters in Step, but it also taught me a different kind of discipline. I used to dance for seven years, but I never truly built bonds with the girls I danced with. It was just about completing the class, rehearsing, and finally performing at recitals, mainly because I was a lot younger than my other counterparts. However, Step Team was a different environment, where it was encouraged to communicate when you mess up or get confused. That way, someone can reach out and help you in any way they can, and that’s what I learned from the captains. It’s better to work together when you make a mistake, rather than fight and fix it alone. As stated before, my extracurriculars are a part of who I am as a person, and Step Team is a reflection of my desire to help others and be a part of a bigger movement. It’s not about just stepping on beat or matching your moves with music. When the Step Team comes together, we show everyone that we’re here for one another, regardless of the obstacles put in front of us. Through this, I can also teach other people how to gather, communicate, and lift each other up when one of them is knocked down. That way, we can pave a way for us to better each other and better the world around us.

With most revelations of future activism, it’s either a major event that shifted the trajectory of one’s path or it was a domino effect of situations that called for immediate change. In my case, it was a mix of both. I wasn’t really exposed to the LGBTQIA+ community until I got to highschool. I had my own concerns of my identity and sexuality, so being around people who knew who they were, and were proud of themselves, gave me a sense of comfort. Eventually, with their support, I’ve embraced my own identity as a queer Christian, where my pronouns are she/they. Admitting that gave me a whole new sense of freedom, and opened up a whole new world of possibilities for my career and personal life. As far as how a member of this community affected me, I would describe it as a majority of my peers, not anyone specifically, opening my eyes to a new definition of representation and justice. During my sophomore year of high school, before I transferred the following year, I learned about a club called Always Our Children (AOC). One of my upperclassmen friends informed me that it was a club dedicated to uplifting the LGBTQIA+ students within the school community. Through fundraisers, bonding activities, and group discussions, their mission was to let the world know that regardless of sexuality or gender, those students are still human and still children of God. At first, I was shocked. I didn’t know that people who claimed to be Christian couldn’t, or just didn’t, model Christian behavior towards others. I couldn’t even fathom the idea of someone not only judging, but persecuting an individual just because they weren't necessarily attracted to the opposite sex. I never joined the club, but I did value and appreciate their mission. Their duty was to give students who were part of that community a safe space to express themselves, both creatively and emotionally. That inspired me to start my own club called My Words for My Worth, where students could meet, write, and talk about different social issues. However, even though I had three co-founders and two moderators, the club was not taken seriously. At first, it seemed like a failure, but I took it as an opportunity to turn it into something bigger. So, when I transferred high schools the following year, I enrolled in my new school’s Entrepreneurship Program, to turn my club idea into a nonprofit organization. That way, I’d not only represent the LGBTQIA+ community, but other minority groups. The LGBTQIA+ community is one of many groups that I want to help and empower. Being a queer person myself, I could not imagine a world where there’s never ending oppression and suffering for anyone who’s in the minority, let alone queer people. This information not only fueled my drive towards positive change, but it also enlightened me of the real state of the world we live in. It’s not a paradise, and there are times where it seems there’s no way out. However, through my faith, as well as encouragement from other people like me, I know I’ll be able to change the world for the better.

The best way you can help someone with their mental health is to not dictate how they should heal or cope. This is not something I’ve done personally, but there were some individuals in my life that did not understand the magnitude of my situations. In my freshman and sophomore years of high school, many adults, and even some of my classmates, have tried to tell me how to deal with certain situations and events that affected my mental and physical health. I could appreciate their concern, but it became abundantly clear that there was a difference between being there for someone and trying to instruct their mental processing. For example, some of my classmates never truly understood what I was going through but would still say, “I completely understand how you feel.” It’s one thing to comfort someone, but it’s another thing to make them believe you’ve been where they are. That’s where I draw the line. I never want anyone to feel as though they can’t confide in me because I try to categorize their pain, and then formulate a plan to somehow remove it. Being a person whose mental health almost took control of every single aspect of their life, I do know what it feels like to be in spaces where I can’t communicate how I feel without someone indirectly invalidating me. That’s why I want to use my future studies in Documentary Filmmaking, as well as my career in the literary arts with advocacy for mental health and social justice, to capture the pressures of society. Broadcasting what real people go through and experience can serve as a tool for community healing and a gateway for future change. Being a part of that movement means I will do everything I can to ensure I’m there for those who need emotional support or just need someone to listen, letting them know that their voices are indeed heard.

Looking at my life and the things I’ve accomplished, I would give a standing ovation to the woman who birthed, raised, and loved me. As with these types of situations, a single parent has to do the work of two, and probably more, people. They have to be both mom and dad, the good cop and bad cop, and sometimes they don’t always have a great support system to back them up. The patience and resilience it takes to raise a child by yourself is nothing you can teach. Only through lived experiences will someone truly understand the grueling battle of molding a child into a decent human in an indecent world. As a child raised by a single parent, independence and effort were the dominating philosophies of the household. In my mind, “getting by” or “doing my best” was not acceptable when it came to my studies. It was either everything had to be perfect or it was nothing at all. My mother kept everything together despite the scroll-length list of responsibilities she had on her shoulders. I figured if she could do it, I should be able to do it too. However, that mentality slowly but surely chipped away at my confidence, my drive, and my overall sense of self and being. No matter how many times I struggled to keep up with class material, or how much effort I put into studying for exams, nothing ever seemed to be “enough.” Not only that, seeing my mother take on what seemed like the entire universe, I’d beat myself up constantly for not being able to handle it all. I’ve never seen her crumble from the pressure, so what excuse did I have? As with most stressful situations, as well as toxic mental roadblocks, it took time for me to understand that grades are essentially letters that measure what you learned. They are not legally-binding documents that determine who you are as a person or dictate what you’re capable of. It’s not an easy lesson to learn, and that’s why I want to help other people like me break that vicious cycle. With the experiences I’ve had, not only do I plan on teaching people that it’s okay to not be perfect, but I also intend to lift up others in kindness and patience, assuring them that no matter if you’re a single parent or a child of a single parent, the world if filled with the same opportunities to succeed in life. Instead of focusing on how your situation is holding you back, focus on how you can use your situation to move forward.

If I had a dime for every single time anxiety or depression affected some aspect of my life, or in this case affected my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations, I would still have nothing. By then, my anxiety would cripple my ability to process certain thoughts, and my depression would convince me that I deserve nothing but dirt and oxygen. It's a Domino Effect, an endless toxic cycle. A certain word will be said, or a certain action will be done, and somehow my brain will take it and turn it into the worst possible scenario. What’s even more disappointing is that every single bone, organ, and atom in my body will convince me that I had some sort of fault in everything, and that whatever happens afterward is entirely my fault. That’s my battle with mental health, and it’s not an easy journey. For some, mental health is a rollercoaster of emotions and feelings. For me, mental health is the whole theme park, where the rides vary, the prizes are scarce, and all that’s left is a higher chance of something flying off a ride and into the distance, ruining everybody else’s experience. Just how there are machines that have pieces that serve a specific function, my mind is one cog that shifts from one direction to the other. It has affected my perceptions on life, myself, and how I’m supposed to move forward in the future. I know there’s a ride or booth that awaits me, but there’s always some sort of distraction. Whether that’s too many people around me, too many temptations that try to veer me off my path, or just not enough space to move and breathe, my mental health does what my brain tells it to do, and in this case, it tells me to just enjoy the ride. However, over time, I realized that my mind may be in control of my mental health, but I am in control of my mind. My experiences with poor mental health motivate me to provide a space for others to control their own rides of life, such as my nonprofit My Words for My Worth. It’s not the latest attraction, but it does show teenagers like me how to have fun, even when faced with fear. Never in a million years would I want someone to feel the way I’ve felt for years, where darkness consumes the mind and all you can think of is the negatives in your life. Those experiences also taught me to trust myself as a person and not just believe in my abilities, but my capabilities. Whether it’s through a minor in Psychology, or through pure observation and understanding, I want to give myself and other people a chance to overcome their fear of experience by making sure my own self-esteem and self-worth is up to code; demolishing negative thoughts, renovating my unique traits, and encouraging people to stop by and see who I am as an individual, not another number within the world’s population. It’s not an easy journey, and it won’t be my last. However, I know to be smart about what rides I go on, determining if they’re a challenge I can face or if they’re a one way ticket to my mental downfall.

If I had a dime for every single time anxiety or depression affected some aspect of my life, or in this case affected my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations, I would still have nothing. By then, my anxiety would cripple my ability to process certain thoughts, and my depression would convince me that I deserve nothing but dirt and oxygen. It's a Domino Effect, an endless toxic cycle. A certain word will be said, or a certain action will be done, and somehow my brain will take it and turn it into the worst possible scenario. What’s even more disappointing is that every single bone, organ, and atom in my body will convince me that I had some sort of fault in everything, and that whatever happens afterward is entirely my fault. That’s my battle with mental health, and it’s not an easy journey. For some, mental health is a rollercoaster of emotions and feelings. For me, mental health is the whole theme park, where the rides vary, the prizes are scarce, and all that’s left is a higher chance of something flying off a ride and into the distance, ruining everybody else’s experience. Just how there are machines that have pieces that serve a specific function, my mind is one cog that shifts from one direction to the other. It has affected my perceptions on life, myself, and how I’m supposed to move forward in the future. I know there’s a ride or booth that awaits me, but there’s always some sort of distraction. Whether that’s too many people around me, too many temptations that try to veer me off my path, or just not enough space to move and breathe, my mental health does what my brain tells it to do, and in this case, it tells me to just enjoy the ride. However, over time, I realized that my mind may be in control of my mental health, but I am in control of my mind. My experiences with poor mental health motivate me to provide a space for others to control their own rides of life, such as my nonprofit My Words for My Worth. It’s not the latest attraction, but it does show teenagers like me how to have fun, even when faced with fear. Never in a million years would I want someone to feel the way I’ve felt for years, where darkness consumes the mind and all you can think of is the negatives in your life. Those experiences also taught me to trust myself as a person and not just believe in my abilities, but my capabilities. Whether it’s through a minor in Psychology, or through pure observation and understanding, I want to give myself and other people a chance to overcome their fear of experience by making sure my own self-esteem and self-worth is up to code; demolishing negative thoughts, renovating my unique traits, and encouraging people to stop by and see who I am as an individual, not another number within the world’s population. It’s not an easy journey, and it won’t be my last. However, I know to be smart about what rides I go on, determining if they’re a challenge I can face or if they’re a one way ticket to my mental downfall.

To most, community service is providing necessities that are impossible for certain people to obtain. Whether that’s food, shelter, clothing, or anything of the sort, community service helps people get through tough times, low morale, or even just a 24-hour time period. However, through my eyes, it’s more than just giving a homeless person a brown paper bag filled with a PB&J sandwich, a bottle of water, and some potato chips to help them make it through the night. It’s about giving people hope, more so for a brighter tomorrow than a brighter future, and that’s when I realized that there’s a difference between community service and serving your community. The question then becomes, “How can a simple volunteer like me implement both?” On paper, I do community service through food packaging and package distribution. Food Bagging and Food Distribution days proceed as if the opera and the circus gather as one entity to entertain the masses. As I walk in to fulfill my duty as a high school-student volunteer, I would see a symphony of other locals: young, old, tall, short, and in all different shades like various notes on sheet music. We separate, bag, breakdown, check, and double-check different produce and frozen items into small portions, or “splits” as SHARE Food Network would call them. In doing this, the staff separates us for each item or pair of items, which is why at first glance it would be hard to tell which station to assist. In other words, you’d feel like a child wondering which act to keep your eyes on; the firebreather, weighing potatoes, the trapeze artists, or unboxing frozen fish? There are even times where I place myself in the staff directory and take charge on Food Distribution days, guiding different groups of volunteers and checking to make sure they fill orders correctly, along with loading food onto the trucks of churches, charities, and any locals in need of sustainable and affordable ingredients to feed themselves and their families. That’s what I put on paper, as well as my MobileServe account when I log my hours. In reality, it’s an experience, a different tale, but told by the same narrator and written by the same author. I step into a room filled with a mixture of cool air generated by the huge, metal-doored freezers on the side, and the cool 5:17 AM wind created by God. The people who work there are already getting produce stations setup for the volunteers, or at least in my case, the rest of the volunteers. It’s because I’ve signed up for so many shifts over my high school career, I would consider myself a mini veteran of food bagging and leadership. Volunteering at SHARE made me realize I wasn’t just placing one potato or one apple after the other in a plastic, SHARE Food Network branded bag. With each item, I was putting an ounce of hope and care for whoever was in need, so by the time it was full, I'd created a product that said, “I see you, I’m here, and I’m willing to help in any way I can.” Community service is not the same as serving the community, but the two can coexist. Remembering why you volunteer at a certain charity, or recognizing why you volunteer at all, is the key to understanding what it means to do your part. Since I plan to major in Psychology, as well as minor in Spanish, using my degree will broaden my perspective in giving back, emphasizing how community service uplifts the physical and mental wellbeing of the individual.

Most parents around the world can agree that the one thing they want their child or children to do is succeed. Whether that’s through a certain profession, or just wanting them to be in good financial standing, parents and guardians dream of their kids having a life where worries, fears, and concerns are slim to none. However, that dream does come with consequences, mostly involving the child or children in question. In my generation, Gen Z, we don’t promote the idea of needing money in order to be happy, nor do we approve of forcing certain positions and obligations just to stay out of debt or to keep up a certain image that may not always affect the individual’s reputation, but their family’s reputation instead. That’s why the subject of college is so tricky now. It’s not for everyone, and not for every occupation, but I know in my heart that college is for me. Going to college means education for my desired field of study, experience within a supportive community, memories made from the good and bad times, and valuable lessons that life teaches better than any 3rd Edition textbook ever could. I picture a campus full of concrete sidewalks, flag poles containing the school colors, and so many buildings that could either be academic, residential, or commercial. People, mainly with backpacks or work satchels, roam around, sitting in groups of four having a picnic, or in groups of five to eight studying for an upcoming exam. I then look beyond the bigger picture, and focus on the little details. At the corner of a coffee shop is a band, drumming, singing, and inviting others to join in and dance. Over by a fountain lies a bench, most likely named after a historical figure that’s essential to the campus’s history, or possibly an alum who contributed to the campus’s ongoing success. There stands a group of students, protesting for change, equality, and justice for the world. They continue to chant and shout, sharing the message of the need to fight in order to be heard. Imagining all of this, a place where you can relax, advocate, learn, network and create all at once, fills me with purpose and certainty, assuring me that this is where I belong. Going to college gives me a chance to showcase my intelligence and personality to the rest of the world, or in this case the community surrounding it. Being a student that thrives on self-sufficiency and a strong work ethic means I need an environment that promotes decision making, carving different paths, and discovering one’s self through a series of opportunities to excel. What I desire the most is getting the chance to use what I know and learn to better myself, and eventually network with others so that we can help better our community, like a sports team united under a shared love and dedication to the team and to the sport.

When it comes to black leaders, the only one I feel that I can relate to the most is none other than Maya Angelou. I consider her a leader because she fought against racism and her own personal demons, regardless of the obstacles put ahead of her. Angelou went through physical, emotional, and mental trauma as a child, teen, and adult, but she did not allow that to stop her from sharing her voice and her way with words. To me, she is the embodiment of the black literary arts, where words have the power to change minds, perspectives, and ultimately the world. Last year, I read half of Maya Angelou's book "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings," and from the very first page, I was reeled in to her story of adversity and heartache. As a child, she wanted attention from her mother, but never received it. It especially didn't help that she grew up in a racist neighborhood, where black people were very cognoscente about how they talked and acted around white people. Because of this, even though she still had her little brother with her, Angelou felt isolated, unloved, and unwanted. Following that, Angelou received a bit of inappropriate attention from her stepfather, but she thought it was her only way of feeling loved and appreciated by her family. This, however, lead to Angelou's stepfather sexually assaulting her, and later on when he should've face the consequences for his actions, he was killed. For a long time, Angelou felt as though it was her fault that this whole situation happened, from the minute she raped to the minute where her stepfather was killed. As a result, she went silent, not daring to utter a single word to anyone about anything. However, as she grew older, Maya started to find her voice again, especially through literature. From this, Maya Angelou used her pain and experiences to write beautiful poetry that touched the hearts of many, especially mine. As I reflect on her experiences and her pain, I feel a deep connection to Angelou, and in some ways I can relate to what she went through. There were times in my life where I felt as though it was best that I didn't say anything. It was me thinking either it did not matter how I felt or that people wouldn't care about what I had to say. However, when I write my thoughts, feelings, and emotions down on paper, I feel a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. I feel like I can breath again, taking in all the air my burdens and negative thoughts blocked from me. That's when I started turning my pain into poetry, letting everything flow from my body to the page in front of me. That's why I respect and honor Maya Angelou. Even when it seemed as though the world was against her, she held on to her gift and continued to stay true to who she truly was, even if people didn't want to acknowledge it.