My mother always hoped I would start a legacy. I remember the smile on her face the day I stood in my first white coat during Project Lead The Way. I felt like a kid playing dress up, but that moment planted something deeper. I began to realize that medicine was not about achievement alone. It was about purpose. I was the first in my family to graduate high school and attend college, yet doubt followed me everywhere. Growing up in a neighborhood where gunshots were louder than dreams, I often felt limited by my surroundings. At seventeen, I left home to attend Morehouse College unsure of what came next. I chose business because it felt safe, but it left me empty. I was running from what I already knew in my heart. Eventually, I stopped running and changed my major to biology. For the first time, things made sense. I remember telling myself, “God loves you. You are favored.” Writing became my first language of healing. Through words and music, I learned how to connect with people who felt unseen. That same empathy guided me toward medicine. As a child, I watched my mother struggle to walk as fluid filled her knee. She hesitated to seek care, and I wondered why. Was it cost, distance, or the familiar phrase, “There aren’t many doctors available”? Even then, I found myself trying to help, playing doctor in the only way I knew how. Service followed me into adulthood. As a cashier, I once quietly paid for a woman’s groceries when she could not afford them. She cried and prayed over me, teaching me that compassion often begins healing long before medicine ever does. Friends and strangers alike came to me for comfort and advice, and I realized that helping others brought a sense of wholeness to my own life. Balancing school, work, and being the oldest child in a single-parent household was overwhelming. My first year nearly broke me. Financial hardship made college feel impossible until a scholarship opportunity changed everything. That moment reminded me that my story had value. In my sophomore year, despite trailing many peers, I earned a 3.7 science GPA while taking rigorous coursework. It renewed my confidence to continue. In the summer of 2025, I trained at the Icahn School of Medicine through the iCORE Research Program, focusing on suicide prevention and mental health stigma in Black and Brown communities. Under the mentorship of Dr. Sidney Hankerson and through my work with HOPE Center Harlem, I learned that medicine can be both science and ministry. Community roundtables, youth outreach, and psychiatric symposiums showed me that healing begins long before a patient enters a clinic. Shadowing physicians in pediatrics and emergency medicine further shaped my understanding. I witnessed trust built across generations and urgency balanced with empathy in moments of crisis. Medicine, I learned, is not only about saving lives, but about remaining steady in the storm. Every experience has taught me that service without empathy is empty. Healing begins with listening, followed by action. Guided by faith, curiosity, and compassion, I hope to pour back into communities like the one that raised me. To me, medicine is not merely a profession, but a calling to restore trust, dignity, and hope — for both body and soul.

One of the most meaningful relationships in my life has been the relationship I share with my mother. Growing up in a single-parent household, I watched her carry responsibilities that most people never see. She worked hard, and sacrificed her own happiness for her children. I am still trying to find ways to bring lost pieces of her back. Doing this with no help, and with the background she had, shows me the peak strength of a human being. And she is still going, making sure me and my siblings are doing good. I am currently in Morehouse College and will do whatever I can to make sure my family will be taken care of in the future. From early age I realized that love isn't just something that can be said. It takes effort, consistency, an presence. Being the oldest and the male of the household, it is hard to teach yourself how to become a man. But my mom tries her best to prepare me and I appreciate that. I would give my mom the world of I could. I would fight the world for my mom if I could. My mother went through so many hardships and I will not sit down and say I can't do something. Because she made it happen. My relationship with my mom taught me how to become intentional with my words and to never let anyone play over me. The environment I grew up in taught me emotional awareness but also cause me to hide some feelings myself. I approach my relationships with empathy and respect. I bring respect first everytime I meet someone new. Being the first generational college student in the family also deepened this perspective. My mother’s support and belief in me became a source of motivation when academic pressure felt overwhelming. Her encouragement reminded me that relationships can be anchors during uncertain times. This relationship also shaped my long-term goals. As someone pursuing a career in healthcare, I understand that technical skill is only part of meaningful impact. True care begins with human connection. I admire my ability to build trust, an treat people with dignity. I was a mental health volunteer during the summer as well as researching in mental health, to spread the stigma going on the world. I also wrote a publication about it called The HOPE Center Model: Expanding Culturally Responsive Mental Health Care in Harlem And Intentional care. I am passionate about mental health and health disparities. I want to help my community just like how my mom helped me when I needed her. All it takes is a voice and presence. This scholarship will bring me closer to my goal. Ultimately, my relationship with my mother taught me that meaningful connections are built through consistency, empathy, and intentional care. These lessons continue to shape who I am and how I engage with the world. They remind me that relationships are not just part of life, but the foundation that gives purpose to everything we strive to achieve.

My name is Caleb Ratliff, and I am 19 years old and a resident from Brooklyn, New York. I am the eldest child in a family of four children and the first child in my family to attend college. I am a student studying biology at Morehouse College. I am a music lover, an anime lover, a family lover, and a God lover. I would state that I am easy-going and focused. I remain relaxed, yet I would like to win and do good. On the days I am not in school, I play lacrosse and listen to my current favorite artist, Ravyn Lenae. Her music brings me serenity and sanity. Empathy to me is being able to see people as who they are and what pain they are experiencing before attempting to remedy it. It is listening, caring, feeling and serving. Empathy and faith have been my driving forces towards medicine. I am a 19 year old Brooklyn, New York resident, who is the first in my family to go to college and the eldest of four children. I am a student of biology at Morehouse College where I am not only studying science but also responsibility and leadership. I have always been supported by my family and my religion. My favorite things are anime, music and sports such as lacrosse and what makes me stay down to earth is my relationship with God and my calling to heal. The latter is the reason why I volunteered at First Corinthian Baptist Church in Harlem and the H.O.P.E. Center, which means Healing On Purpose and Evolving. The HOPE Center is a religion-based counseling ministry that fights the stigma of mental health within Black and Brown communities. This experience and my time on the iCORE Program at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai helped me understand how empathy can help bridge faith and science. I worked under Dr. Sidney Hankerson and worked on the depression and suicide prevention projects targeting the Black and Brown youth. I even prepared an abstract which was chosen to be published, and how churches and research programs can collaborate to raise awareness and support of mental health to underserved populations. It demonstrated that the body is not the most important aspect of healing. The spirit and the mind are also part of it. I also assisted in the planning of events at the HOPE Center including the Hope in Harlem Conference where pastors, clinicians, and young adults gathered to discuss faith and therapy freely. I observed how compassion and sympathy could transform lives. One of the mothers claimed that she was finally able to take her son to therapy because it was church-based. That experience taught me that healing will occur anywhere as long as it is guided by love. I wish to keep on creating that connection between healthcare and faith as a future physician. In my opinion, patients should be treated with dignity and compassion. To ensure that my work is based on a human lens, I will always look at the person behind the condition, respect their background, and read their story. Empathy is what drives me. How I will say it is medicine. I would like to make people heal, find purpose, and hope through faith, service and community.

I have been brought up in Brooklyn, New York, where faith has been my backbone. When I became older, I realized that mental health was not a topic of discussion in my community particularly in church. People tended to respond to pain by praying about it, as opposed to discussing it and supporting each other. Such silence compelled me to join the solution and in my quest, I found myself at the H.O.P.E. Center in Harlem which is a ministry of First Corinthian Baptist Church. H.O.P.E. is an acronym that means Healing On Purpose and Evolving, and its mission is the manner of what I want to achieve, not only to my community but also to myself. In the HOPE Center, I am a combination of faith and mental-health advocacy. I collaborate with the iCORE Research Program of the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai to work with Dr. Sidney Hankerson and other leaders who are interested in depression and suicide among black and brown youth. The research that we make demonstrates how churches might diminish therapy stigma through developing spaces in which faith and counseling work together rather than independently. During the program, I have prepared an abstract that has recently been accepted to be published. It creates awareness regarding suicide within Black and Brown communities and studies the ways in which the HOPE Center and faith-based groups can avert these tragedies by means of outreach, empathy, and education. The project enabled me to appreciate the fact that intentional words, which are driven by faith, can save lives. I also organize and facilitate other events, including the Hope in Harlem Conference and mental health discussions in the community, at First Corinthian Baptist Church. Through such meetings, pastors, clinicians and young adults were united to tear down fences and initiate candid discussions on faith and emotional healing. I will not be able to forget a mother who mentioned that she finally felt secure to take her son to therapy, as it was provided by the church. During that time, I came to know that God can heal his people through prayer and professional assistance because both are gifts that are supposed to heal his people. This piece has transformed me in a way that I had never anticipated. Being a servant made me realize that I too require healing and reconciliation with God and myself. It made me remember that my service does not only involve what I do to others but it involves letting God operate through me and changing me as I assist other people to grow. I am a major in biology at Morehouse College and am planning to become a physician and I view medicine and ministry as a one-calling. Science cures the body, faith cures the soul. My experiences demonstrate that both are needed to be healed. I think that God put me in this path because I can be a doctor who will be a role between the clinic, faith and therapy, pain and purpose. It is what H.O.P.E. means to me: Healing On Purpose and Evolving through faith, service and love.

My name is Caleb Ratliff, a kid from Brooklyn with a big dream, one too heavy for the block I was raised on. The oldest of four, I wore responsibility like a second skin. While others played, I helped raise. While my mother limped through pain with fluid in her knee, I knelt beside her, hands too small to heal, heart too big to ignore. I said I’d become a doctor then. A pediatrician? A psychiatrist? A surgeon maybe? Well I want to not just to treat pain, but to understand it. Not just to fix bodies, but to offer what the system rarely does: care rooted in love. But dreams cost money. And the system does not cut deals for kids like me. Morehouse opened its gates, and I stepped through. But tuition still chases me. So I work. I push. Every internship I earn, the check goes back into the dream. Back into school. Back into belief. I balance classes, labs, lacrosse, and late nights with prayers whispered into dorm ceilings, trusting God’s plan even when the math does not add up. Morehouse wasn’t just a college to me, it was a legacy. I didn’t grow up surrounded by Black doctors, but I grew up surrounded by strong Black people. When I looked at Morehouse, I saw men who looked like me becoming the leaders that I wanted to be. I could not make an excuse for perfection. I have seen brotherhood based on a cause. The history of HBCUs, in particular, Morehouse, showed me that I did not need to sacrifice myself to become successful. I can be black, I can be brilliant, I can be human and I can still belong. That was bigger than I can tell. As they say, the journey of every hero starts at home. Mine began in a tiny Brooklyn apartment with low ceilings and lofty aspirations. The eldest of four children, I am. A guardian. A person who was present. The son of a woman who exuded grace while surviving. In addition to working nonstop, my mother loved quietly and prayed loudly. I saw her bear the burden of the world on an exhausted frame. And in the midst of the clamor of city sirens and the quiet of unmet needs, I promised myself something. "I will be the reason she can finally get some rest one day. That pledge became the driving force behind everything I did. I study biology at Morehouse College not just for my degree but also for my future. I know I'm learning not just for myself, but also for the children I'll one day look after, the communities I'll be a part of, and the families I'll support, so I enter every classroom with a purpose. I joined the Health Career Society to hone my skills and to walk with people who have a purpose and speak out for others. Every encounter, mentoring experience, and opportunity for development served as fuel. I am a first-generation college student, majoring in biology, fighting to stay in a room my family never stepped in. I do not ask for shortcuts. Just a chance. A chance to keep going. A scholarship like this would be more than relief. It would be breath. It would say, Keep going, son. We see you. And I will make it. Not just for me, but for my mother. For the kids I will one day serve. For every dreamer walking uphill with nothing but faith.

As they say, the journey of every hero starts at home. Mine began in a small Brooklyn apartment with low ceilings and lofty dreams. I am the oldest of four children, a protector, a witness, the son of a woman who carried grace while surviving. My mother worked tirelessly, prayed loudly, and loved quietly. I watched her carry the weight of the world with strength that shaped my entire understanding of resilience. In between the noise of city sirens and the silence of unmet needs, I made myself a promise. One day, I will be the reason she can finally rest. That promise became the driving force behind everything I do. At Morehouse College, I study biology not just for a degree but to fulfill a purpose. I enter every classroom with intention, knowing I am learning for more than myself. I am learning for the children I will one day care for, the communities I hope to uplift, and the family I want to carry into peace. I joined the Health Career Society to grow alongside peers who are also grounded in service. Every mentorship, conversation, and lesson has added fuel to the fire inside me. When I shadowed a pediatrician for the first time, I felt something shift. In the quiet moment between doctor and child, I realized healing is not only about treatment. It is about presence. It is in the way a child softens when they feel safe. That moment did not just confirm my desire to be a pediatrician. It expanded it. I want to be a physician who listens, who guides, who protects. This summer, I will be working alongside a psychiatrist at Mount Sinai Hospital, conducting research on mental health. I want to understand the kind of wounds that live inside the mind, the ones the body never shows. I believe that healing must be whole. A pediatrician should treat more than fever or injury. They should treat worry, fear, and grief too. The body and the mind are not separate stories. But I was not always so certain. I still struggle with doubt. People call me the calm one, but inside I often wonder if I am doing enough. So I stretch myself. I commit to community service, athletics, mentoring, and medicine. At times it is overwhelming, but I keep going. Because pressure shapes diamonds, and I believe I was created to serve before I shine. At Brumby Elementary, I volunteered as part of the Parent Teacher Association. I read to students, helped organize events, and supported teachers who poured into the next generation. Through Catholic Charities’ Summer Youth Employment Program, I mentored students who faced challenges similar to mine. I helped them build resumes, prepare for interviews, and most importantly, believe that their future matters. As part of the New York Club’s Community Service Committee, I planted gardens in food deserts, gathered hygiene kits for shelters, and brought care to overlooked neighborhoods. These moments taught me that healing does not only happen in clinics. It can take root in soil, in a school hallway, or in a conversation. When people ask about my biggest goal, I tell them the truth. I want to retire my mother. I want to be the man my siblings turn to. I want to lift my family from struggle into stability. Some say that goal is not enough. But love is never small. I do not seek a title. I want to be a healer who makes people feel safe and seen. A voice for the voiceless. If I can do that, I have already won.

Not voluntarily, but out of necessity, I was born into service. Growing up in a tiny Brooklyn apartment with three younger siblings and a single mother, I soon discovered what it meant to bear responsibilities that many people never see. I was in charge of making breakfast and packing the bookbags when my mother left for work before the sun rose. In order to keep the house organized, I walked my siblings to school through congested streets, helped with homework before I finished it, and occasionally stayed up late. I didn't voice any complaints. Early on, I realized that service is the best way to demonstrate love. It allowed us to survive as a family. I applied that same spirit to all I did. A service was never merely a chore. It became a part of who I was. I played defensive midfielder on the high school lacrosse team. I put my life on the line to defend my teammates, even though I didn't score the game-winning goal. Not out of necessity, but out of desire, I arrived early for practice and stayed late. I aspired to be the type of teammate who gave others a sense of security. Someone who led with grit and consistency rather than words. I brought that same mentality with me to Morehouse. I became even more aware of the value of giving back after being surrounded by young Black men who shared my intense ambition. I volunteered at nearby elementary schools and participated in mentoring programs, reading to the students and serving as a constant reminder that anyone who looked like them could achieve their goals. I volunteered for the Summer Youth Employment Program, assisting students in discovering meaning and purpose in their work. I made it a point to become the guide for someone else because I knew what it was like to be unguided. I do not consider service to be a checkbox item. A heartbeat is what it is. It is what has helped me stay centered, grounded, and linked to a bigger goal. It has taught me how to empathetically lead, to listen before I speak, and to persevere in the face of adversity. I see service in my future as well as in my past as a biology major pursuing a career in pediatrics. I want to keep helping kids and families who are in need of someone who recognizes their strength and struggles. Being a doctor is not what I want to be. If I were a light, I would be. Because I understand the burden of bearing the burden. I understand what it's like to support other people. Furthermore, I think that the greatest legacy we leave on this planet is not our height but rather the number of people we have helped along the way.

I wasn’t always sure I could be a doctor. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but because I was often told it was not possible. As the oldest of four siblings raised in a loving but resource-limited home in Brooklyn, New York, by a single mother, I carried responsibility from a young age. Watching my mother sacrifice everything to support us taught me to guide, protect, and uplift not just my siblings but my community as well. When I arrived at Morehouse College, I declared business as my major. It felt like the safest choice. I was surrounded by voices that made me question my potential in science and medicine. Many people do not believe that kids from places like mine can become doctors. Others were too afraid to imagine more. For a time, I followed that fear, but deep down, I knew my purpose was different. After my first semester, I switched my major to biology. The change came with challenges. I had to catch up quickly and take a full course load. As a sophomore, I took two math classes, science lectures, and labs all in one semester. At times it felt overwhelming. But I pushed through and ended with a 3.5 GPA and a 3.7 science GPA. That moment reminded me I am resilient, I am capable, and I belong in medicine. My passion for healthcare has always been rooted in people, especially children. I volunteered as a guidance counselor at Dunbar Elementary, read to students at Brunch Elementary, and led donation drives for families in need. I enjoy being a role model for kids who see their own story in mine. I understand their fears and their potential. I want to be the kind of physician who helps them feel seen, safe, and valued. My commitment to medicine and service is now being recognized. I was accepted into the Interdisciplinary Collaborative Research Program at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai, where I will explore connections between science, medicine, and community health from a pre-med perspective. I was also selected for the 2025 Health Careers Intensive Clinical Exposure Program, which provides hands-on experience shadowing physicians. This summer I will be shadowing a pediatrician, an opportunity I am especially grateful for. Pediatrics is not just an interest. It is a calling. These experiences confirm I am living in alignment with my purpose. Every obstacle I have faced—financial hardship, academic pressure, and self-doubt—has made me more determined to serve others through medicine. I know what it feels like to be overlooked, and I know how life-changing it is when someone believes in you. I will bring that understanding into every room I enter as a future doctor. I want to build a space where healthcare is filled with compassion. I want children from underserved communities to be cared for by someone who understands them. Representation in medicine matters. When a young patient sees a Black man in a white coat who shares their background and has chosen to rise, it shows them they can rise too. My name is Caleb Ratliff. I am a first-generation college student, a mentor, a servant leader, and a future pediatrician. I do not walk this path for recognition. I walk it for my siblings. I walk it for the children who do not yet see themselves in science. I walk it for the families still waiting to be heard and healed. Medicine is not just my future. It is my mission.

I was raised by a single mother in Brooklyn, New York, and I am the eldest of four siblings. I took on a leadership role early on in a household where love frequently meant sacrifice, long hours, and late nights. I became the person my younger siblings turned to for direction, stability, and assurance. Although there was no instruction manual for that responsibility, it did have purpose. It taught me the importance of showing up even in the face of difficulty, protecting fiercely, and caring deeply. Being raised in a community that was underserved, I frequently saw how families like mine were impacted by a lack of access to opportunities, resources, and healthcare. I witnessed how quickly kids could be forgotten, how their suffering could be misinterpreted, and how important it was for someone to actually listen. I was shaped by those encounters. They stoked my desire to become someone who could change things. Being admitted to Morehouse College as a first-generation student is a commitment rather than merely a personal achievement. A pledge to my community, my family, and every child who feels unheard. I recognize the value of being present in a child's life, which is why I want to become a pediatrician. Diagnosing and treating is not all I want to do. My goals are advocacy, healing, and uplift. Children should have access to physicians who are aware of their backgrounds, represent the communities they are from, and see them. My goal is for each young patient I look after to feel heard, respected, and safe. I've put my passion into practice during my time in college. I have led fundraising efforts for underprivileged families, read to students at Brunch Elementary, and served as a guidance counselor at Dunbar Elementary School. I've learned from these experiences that service is not just what I do; it's who I am. I also started the AUC Outdoor Club, which gives students of color a place to get back in touch with nature, take care of themselves, and give back through sustainability and community gardening. I firmly believe in fostering growth everywhere I go, whether I'm sowing seeds in the ground or inspiring hope in a young pupil. Increasing racial diversity in the healthcare industry is not just important, in my opinion. It is necessary. Representation is life-saving. Children can change outcomes when they see a doctor who looks like them, speaks with compassion, and understands their culture. That doctor is who I aspire to be. I want every child to know that they belong here, especially those from neighborhoods like mine. You are important. ".". My long-term objective is to start a pediatric clinic that offers services beyond medical care. A place that provides children and families with emotional support, education, and mentorship. a place where children feel cared for and treated. where they can recognize that their dreams are achievable by seeing someone who was once in their position. I'm Caleb Ratliff, and I'm traveling with my faith, family, and community. I'm not merely going to be a doctor. I'm evolving into a conduit for change, healing, and hope. And I will live each day knowing that my purposeful actions can open doors for others, even if they never tell me they were watching.

I've learned that impact isn't always loud. It is quiet at times. Sometimes it's a child watching from a distance as someone who looks like them achieves something they never saw coming. And because there's always someone watching, sometimes it just appears, even when you don't know who is looking. In my hometown of Brooklyn, New York, opportunities seemed limited, but hope never completely disappeared. Being the eldest in my family to attend college and growing up in a single-parent household has forced me to mature rapidly. In addition to helping to raise my siblings and taking charge, I also carried the implicit expectation that I would be the one to implement all the changes. Instead of being resentful, those challenges made me more purposeful. From them, I learned to live for something bigger than myself. Now, instead of just working toward a degree, I am living out my purpose at Morehouse College, where I am a biology major on the pre-med track. My love of people, especially kids, and my enthusiasm for science are the main reasons I want to become a pediatrician. My objective is to become a doctor while simultaneously advocating, mentoring, and demonstrating compassion. In addition to healing, I want to go into exam rooms with hope. I give everything I do my all. From reading to students at Brunch Elementary to volunteering as a guidance counselor at Dunbar Elementary, I am aware of the power of presence. I am aware of how one conversation can change a child's viewpoint. My goal is to make sure that others don't feel invisible because I know what it's like to feel that way. I founded the AUC Outdoor Club at Morehouse because I wanted to support young Black students in reestablishing a connection with nature, improving their mental health, and giving back to the community through recycling and gardening. All levels of healing—spiritual, emotional, physical, and environmental—are at stake. Although I may not always be able to see the people I'm influencing, I am aware that they exist. A younger sibling, a student in the hallway, or a neighbor from back home might be observing and wondering if they are allowed to dream the same as me. They accompany me to all of my lessons, every child I help, and every success I achieve. My heart—the way I've turned suffering into purpose and adversity into service—is what sets me apart. Even though I'm not always conscious of who is watching, I move as though I'm lighting the way. because I have seen firsthand the transformative power of a tiny bit of light in the dark.

Caleb Ratliff is my name, and I am presently a biology student at Morehouse College. I am the proud first member of my family to attend college. My hometown is Brooklyn, New York, a vibrant neighborhood that is frequently neglected and underprivileged. I've always carried the burden of responsibility as the eldest sibling in a single-parent home—not as a burden, but as a call to guide, defend, and encourage people around me. My greatest influence has come from the difficulties I encountered as a child, including overcoming the demands of poverty, lack of opportunity, and the implicit pressure to be the one to break down barriers between generations. My surroundings have made me more compassionate rather than hardening me. This is the reason I'm drawn to pediatrics: I want to be the type of doctor who heals with presence, empathy, and understanding in addition to medicine, especially for children from homes like mine. Through service, I have already started that journey. Leading donation drives, reading to students at Brunch Elementary, and serving as a guidance counselor at Dunbar Elementary School in Atlanta have all been more than just deeds of kindness; they are confirmations of my mission. I've witnessed the light that ignites in a child when someone just shows up and has faith in them. My goal is to not only care for young patients but also to uplift and safeguard them. I also started the AUC Outdoor Club at Morehouse, which provides a space for young Black students to connect with nature, learn healthy coping skills, and give back through recycling and community gardening. I think that growth comes from service, whether it's sowing seeds in the ground or in someone's soul. A biology degree with a pre-med concentration is not only my academic route; it is also my road map for transformation. This program will give me the skills I need to enroll in medical school, focus on pediatrics, and eventually work in hospitals and clinics that provide healthcare to underserved communities. My goal is to combine medicine and mentoring by sitting in exam rooms with children who feel insecure or invisible and reassuring them that they are valuable, seen, and important. Investing in me is more than just investing in one student, I tell those who read this. I'm making an investment in the communities, schools, and medical facilities I'll be working in. In all that I do, I bring my community with me. Caleb Ratliff is my name, and I'm following more than just a degree. My goal is to leave a legacy of heart, hope, and healing.

Caleb Ratliff is my name, and I am presently a biology student at Morehouse College. I am the proud first member of my family to attend college. My hometown is Brooklyn, New York, a vibrant neighborhood that is frequently neglected and underprivileged. I've always carried the burden of responsibility as the eldest sibling in a single-parent home—not as a burden, but as a call to guide, defend, and encourage people around me. My greatest influence has come from the difficulties I encountered as a child, including overcoming the demands of poverty, lack of opportunity, and the implicit pressure to be the one to break down barriers between generations. My surroundings have made me more compassionate rather than hardening me. This is the reason I'm drawn to pediatrics: I want to be the type of doctor who heals with presence, empathy, and understanding in addition to medicine, especially for children from homes like mine. Through service, I have already started that journey. Leading donation drives, reading to students at Brunch Elementary, and serving as a guidance counselor at Dunbar Elementary School in Atlanta have all been more than just deeds of kindness; they are confirmations of my mission. I've witnessed the light that ignites in a child when someone just shows up and has faith in them. My goal is to not only care for young patients but also to uplift and safeguard them. I also started the AUC Outdoor Club at Morehouse, which provides a space for young Black students to connect with nature, learn healthy coping skills, and give back through recycling and community gardening. I think that growth comes from service, whether it's sowing seeds in the ground or in someone's soul. A biology degree with a pre-med concentration is not only my academic route; it is also my road map for transformation. This program will give me the skills I need to enroll in medical school, focus on pediatrics, and eventually work in hospitals and clinics that provide healthcare to underserved communities. My goal is to combine medicine and mentoring by sitting in exam rooms with children who feel insecure or invisible and reassuring them that they are valuable, seen, and important. Investing in me is more than just investing in one student, I tell those who read this. I'm making an investment in the communities, schools, and medical facilities I'll be working in. In all that I do, I bring my community with me. Caleb Ratliff is my name, and I'm following more than just a degree. My goal is to leave a legacy of heart, hope, and healing.

Growing up in a single-parent household in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, has been the foundation for my goals, values, and ambitions. My mother raised me and my siblings in a one-bedroom apartment, a space where we often faced financial struggles that made me feel embarrassed about our situation. The bedframes were breaking, and we shared an air mattress, which made it difficult to invite friends over without feeling the weight of our circumstances. Despite these challenges, my mother remained a pillar of strength, never showing weakness in front of us. Her faith in God, optimism, and unwavering belief that better days were ahead were what kept us moving forward. Through every hardship, my mother kept going. Her prayers were constant, and her faith was unshakable. I watched her work tirelessly to provide for us, even when things seemed impossible. Her sacrifices have inspired me, and I understand now that those struggles, rather than defining me, built the character I carry with me today. My mother’s strength has become my foundation. By the grace of God, we eventually moved from that cramped one-bedroom apartment to a three-bedroom place, a step forward that once seemed out of reach. This journey of growth was not just about material improvements, it was about a mindset of resilience and hope, which my mother instilled in me. Now, as a student at Morehouse College, I am living a reality that my younger self could never have imagined. It is a testament to my mother’s sacrifices, faith, and hard work that I am here today. Every step I take toward my dreams is a reflection of her strength, and I carry that with me as I move forward in my academic and professional life. Growing up with these challenges shaped my drive to pursue a career in medicine. I have always felt a deep desire to help others, and I know that pursuing biology and becoming an anesthesiologist will allow me to do just that. I want to provide peace and comfort in the most vulnerable moments of people’s lives, just as my mother did for me when she guided us through difficult times. She showed me that, even in adversity, it is possible to provide care and support. I want to bring that same strength and compassion to my future patients, especially those from underserved communities like the one I grew up in. The values that my mother instilled in me—resilience, faith, and compassion—are the driving forces behind my ambition. These values inspire my pursuit of a career in medicine and my commitment to helping others, particularly those who face the same challenges I experienced growing up. My goal is to break the cycle of poverty, lack of education, and inadequate healthcare that so often plagues underserved communities. I want to be the first in my family to not only attend college but to enter the medical field, creating a path for future generations to follow. I am determined to honor my mother’s sacrifices and provide the same strength and care she showed me to others. Her strength shaped who I am today, and it is that strength that will guide me as I work toward becoming an anesthesiologist and, ultimately, a force for good in my community.

If given the opportunity, I would dedicate myself to improving my community by bridging the gap between healthcare and those who feel disconnected from it. Growing up in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, I saw firsthand how the lack of access to quality healthcare affected families like mine. The fear of not being able to afford care, the uncertainty of where to turn for help—these are struggles I know too well. I want to change that, to offer a hand to those who feel left behind, and to be the light in the dark when it comes to healthcare access and education. In my community, I’ve seen neighbors who avoid doctors out of fear or lack of trust. I’ve witnessed the sense of powerlessness that comes from not having a reliable resource when illness strikes. But what hurts the most is knowing that people who need help don’t have it. I want to be part of a movement that changes that. As a future anesthesiologist, I will have the privilege of providing care to those in need, not just in a sterile hospital setting, but in a way that connects with the heart of my community. I want to be a source of comfort, a voice of reassurance for patients who are anxious about their health, and a bridge between them and the healthcare system they’ve always been hesitant to trust. It’s important to me because I know what it’s like to feel helpless. My mother worked tirelessly to give us the best life she could, but there were times when the weight of financial strain meant our health was compromised. We didn’t always have access to the care we needed, and I watched my mother make difficult choices, knowing she couldn’t always provide the support we needed. That experience has fueled my desire to do more than just practice medicine—I want to change the way people in underserved communities view healthcare. I want them to know that their pain matters, that their voices matter, and that they deserve quality care no matter their background or financial situation. Improving my community starts with healing on a personal level. It means taking the time to connect with individuals and families, learning their stories, and understanding their fears. Through education, outreach, and providing compassionate care, I want to show them that they have the power to take control of their health. I would create programs that offer accessible health education, preventative care services, and support for individuals navigating the healthcare system. My goal is to build trust, one patient at a time, and to show them that they don’t have to fight their health battles alone. This mission is personal. My mother’s sacrifices taught me that community is everything—that when we lift others up, we all rise together. It’s why, as I continue my journey in medicine, I will always remember where I came from and who I am fighting for. I am determined to bring change, to offer hope, and to be a beacon of healing for the people of my community. Because when we heal together, we all move forward.

My name is Caleb, and I am a Biology major at Morehouse College. Choosing this path is not just about academic interest; it’s deeply personal. It’s about overcoming the struggles I’ve faced growing up, breaking generational cycles in my family, and pursuing a career that allows me to help others. I was raised in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, by my mother, a single parent who worked tirelessly to raise me and my siblings. We faced financial hardships, often going without basic necessities like heat and water. Despite these challenges, my mother’s strength was unwavering. She taught me how to endure, how to push through adversity, and how to never give up. I saw her sacrifice her dreams to provide for us, and I promised myself that I would be the first in my family to go to college and the first to pursue a career in medicine. Growing up as the oldest in my family, I felt a deep sense of responsibility. I watched my mother carry burdens that no one should have to bear alone, and I made a silent vow that I would break the cycle of poverty. My family’s struggles shaped me. I wasn’t just determined to succeed for myself, but to honor my mother’s sacrifices and give my younger siblings the life she always wanted for us. The promise I made to myself was clear: I would be the first to break into higher education and the medical field. Biology became my natural path. It wasn’t just the study of life for me; it was a way to understand the body, healing, and how to care for others. I’ve always had a desire to help people, especially those from underserved communities like mine. Medicine, and more specifically anesthesiology, became my calling. As an anesthesiologist, I would be able to provide comfort during some of the most vulnerable moments in a patient’s life. I want to bridge the gap between community service and patient care, especially for those who feel overlooked by the healthcare system. The road to Morehouse wasn’t easy. I remember the moment when my mom told me we might not be able to afford college. It was heartbreaking, but I refused to let it stop me. Thanks to God’s grace and the generosity of Morehouse College, I received a scholarship that covered my first semester. Later, Kyrie Irving’s donation helped me return for my sophomore year. These blessings confirmed that I was on the right path and that my purpose was much bigger than any obstacle. Being the first in my family to attend college, and the first to pursue a career in medicine, comes with great responsibility. I am determined to break the cycle of hardship and create a better future for my family and others like mine. My journey is not just about personal success but about paving the way for others to follow. Biology is more than just a major—it is the foundation of the promise I made to my family and myself. I will be the first, but I won’t be the last. My journey is just beginning, and I will continue to rise, break barriers, and make a difference.

My name is Caleb Ratliff, and I am a Biology major at Morehouse College. But this isn’t just about school. This is about legacy. This is about breaking generational barriers, walking through doors that were once closed to my family, and stepping into a purpose that’s bigger than me. I was raised in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, by my mother, a single parent who carried more than her share and still found the strength to uplift me. She raised me and my siblings on her own, and though we faced constant financial struggles, her strength never wavered. We lived through nights without water, days without heat, and winters warmed only by the fire of hope. We didn’t have much, but we had each other, and we had God. I’m the oldest out of my father’s four children and the oldest of my mother’s two. That came with weight. I watched my mom struggle, not because she wasn’t strong, but because she was carrying the burdens of an entire household by herself. She was a foster child who had to grow up too fast, sacrificing her own dreams so she could raise her siblings. When I look at her, I don’t just see my mother. I see a living example of sacrifice, faith, and resilience. And so I made her a promise, silently and daily, that I would become the first. The first in my family to go to college. The first to pursue a career in medicine. The first to take the pain we’ve lived through and turn it into healing—for my family, for my community, and for others walking similar paths. Biology became that bridge for me. I’ve always had this quiet but persistent thought in my heart: I want to help people. Not just in a general sense, but in a way that’s intentional, transformative, and lasting. The more I studied biology, the more I understood that this science wasn’t just about the body. It was about life, systems, emotions, trauma, and healing. It connected directly to everything I experienced growing up. . It gave me understanding of resilience. It became a passion that rooted itself in purpose. That passion led me to the pre-med track. My dream is to become an anesthesiologist. I want to provide comfort and peace in the most vulnerable moments of a person’s life. I want to serve those who feel forgotten by healthcare, who come from communities where pain is normal but care is rare. I want to bridge the gap between community service and patient care, to be the face of both science and compassion. There were moments when this dream felt out of reach. I remember the day my mom sat me down and said, “Son, I don’t know if we can afford for you to go to college.” I was crushed. But God made a way. Morehouse covered my first semester. Kyrie Irving’s generosity made it possible for me to return for my sophomore year. Doors kept opening, not because we had money or connections, but because we had faith, and I had a purpose. I am not here by accident. I wasn’t supposed to be here, but I am. I will show other kids from single-parent homes, from Brooklyn, from overlooked communities, that they can rise too. That they can walk into science labs and operating rooms. That they can break curses and build legacies. Biology isn’t just a major. It’s the first step in fulfilling a promise I made to my mother, to my community, and to myself. I will be the first, but I won’t be the last.

My name is Caleb Ratliff, a young African American male raised in Brooklyn New York by a single mom, Tenisha Wright. I come from a world where opportunities are scarce, where talent often goes unnoticed, and where dreams are too often sacrificed for survival. Growing up in an urban, underserved community, I witnessed firsthand how financial struggles and lack of resources kept so many from reaching their full potential. I was raised in a single-parent household, watching my mother work tirelessly to keep food on the table while still pushing me to aim higher than my circumstances. The weight of financial instability was always present, but so was my faith in God, and it is that faith along with my relentless determination that has carried me to Morehouse College. My journey here has not been easy. As a first-generation college student, I had no blueprint to follow, no older sibling or parent to guide me through the complexities of higher education. When I first arrived at Morehouse, I allowed doubt and outside voices to shape my decisions. People told me that STEM was too difficult, that I wouldn’t succeed in biology, and that I should take an easier route. I let fear dictate my path and initially chose communications as my major, even though my true passion had always been science and medicine. But one conversation changed everything. My mother, the strongest person I know, reminded me of everything I had already overcome. She reminded me that I was not built to settle for less, that I had already defied expectations just by getting here. Most importantly, she reminded me that I was never walking this path alone. God had already set a purpose for me. With her words and my faith as my foundation, I made one of the hardest but most necessary decisions of my life. I switched my major to biology and stepped fully into the challenge I had been avoiding. That decision came with struggles. The overwhelming coursework, the long nights studying material I was unfamiliar with, and the weight of having to play catch-up after avoiding STEM for my first year made it exhausting. I took College Algebra II, Trigonometry, Biology with Lab, and Chemistry with Lab all in one semester. It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life, but I refused to quit. I studied harder than ever before, spent hours in tutoring, and reminded myself daily of why I started. In the end, my hard work paid off. I finished with a 3.47 GPA and a 3.7 science GPA that semester and was honored with a math award for having the highest grade in my College Algebra II class. But my purpose is bigger than academics. Attending an HBCU, especially Morehouse, means being part of a legacy that is greater than myself. It means being surrounded by brilliant Black men who are redefining success in their own way. Morehouse has given me a brotherhood, a sense of belonging, and an environment where I don’t have to prove my worth. I just have to work for it. It has shown me the importance of leadership, service, and using my education to uplift others. I plan to make a difference for my family and community by becoming an anesthesiologist, a career that will not only allow me to provide for my mother but also address healthcare disparities in underserved communities. Too many people in neighborhoods like mine don’t receive the quality care they deserve simply because of where they live or what they can afford. I refuse to let that continue. I want to be a doctor who brings compassion, skill, and representation to the medical field. This scholarship would relieve some of the financial burdens that weigh on my family, allowing me to fully commit to my education and my mission. But more than that, it would serve as a reminder that hard work, faith, and perseverance always lead to opportunity. God didn’t bring me this far just to leave me. I have fought through doubt, financial struggles, and academic obstacles to get to this point, and I will continue to push forward, not just for myself but for those who will come after me.

The college experience stands as evidence of my persistence together with dedication along with the ability to surmount obstacles. While facing many challenges as a first-generation poor student from the urban underprivileged area I continue to grow stronger in my dedication to achievement. Morehouse College allows me to restructure my life journey with the purpose of leading the path for future students who will follow. Financial instability was a permanent condition in my household because my parents raised me alone. The endless dedication of my mother in securing our future taught me to never falter in my work habits when difficult times arise. Higher education remains both sustainable and challenging because most students enjoy the advantage of financial protection. These difficulties motivate me instead of causing discouragement. Education carries tremendous worth which inspires me to take full advantage of this present chance to benefit my family alongside my neighborhood beyond my individual needs. The transition was anything but easy. I had to make up for lost time, stepping into a demanding STEM curriculum with limited prior experience. I enrolled in two rigorous math courses which were College Algebra II and Trigonometry, alongside two lab-heavy science courses in Biology and Chemistry. The workload was overwhelming, but I refused to let fear define me. Instead, I worked harder than ever, spending long nights studying, seeking help when I needed it, and proving to myself that I belonged. My dedication paid off and I finished the semester with a 3.47 GPA and a 3.7 Science GPA, and I was honored to receive the Math Award for having the highest grade in my College Algebra II class. That award wasn’t just a certificate..it was proof that I was more than capable. But college is about more than just academics for me. I want to develop into a leader who can make a real difference—for my family, for my community, and for the next generation of students who, like me, once doubted their potential. Morehouse has given me the opportunity to sharpen my leadership skills, learn from inspiring mentors, and grow into the kind of person who uplifts others. My ultimate goal is to become an anesthesiologist, a career that will allow me to not only provide for my mother, the woman who sacrificed everything for me, but also to improve healthcare accessibility in underserved communities. Too often, people in my neighborhood don’t get the medical care they need simply because they don’t have access to it. I want to change that. This scholarship would not only ease the financial burden that my family faces but also allow me to fully invest in my education and personal growth. More than just financial support, this scholarship would be an investment in a future healthcare professional dedicated to serving others. By earning my degree in Biology and pursuing a career in medicine, I hope to give back, mentor others, and prove that no matter where you come from, success is possible with perseverance, education, and the right opportunities. Thank you for your consideration.

Pursuing my education has been a journey marked by financial struggles, but it’s also been a testament to resilience, faith, and my mom’s unwavering dedication. My mom is a single parent working a minimum-wage job, and while she gives her all to support me, the cost of college is a burden she simply can’t shoulder alone. She came from a rough background and has fought hard to give me opportunities she never had, but there’s only so much she can do. To afford my education, she’s had to take out loans, which deeply worries me—I don’t want her to be trapped in debt because of my dreams. At first, I wasn’t even going to attend Morehouse because we couldn’t pay for it. It wasn’t until Morehouse stepped in and helped cover my first semester that my dream became a reality. This wasn’t the first time finances almost derailed my education. In high school, I was on the brink of being kicked out because we couldn’t afford tuition. I spent countless nights searching for scholarships, praying, and trusting in God to make a way. By His grace and the support of others, I made it through. My long-term goal is to join the medical field and become a nurse. This scholarship would ease my family’s financial strain and allow me to fully focus on my studies. More than that, it would be another step toward building a future where I can give back and help others, just as I’ve been helped along the way. This scholarship will be a vital stepping stone in my journey to becoming a nurse, a dream I’ve held close since seeing firsthand how compassionate care can change lives. As a sophomore Biology major, I am fully committed to excelling in my studies, but the financial weight of college often feels overwhelming. My mom, a single parent, works tirelessly to support me, but tuition, books, and other expenses pile up quickly. This scholarship would not only lighten that burden but also allow me to focus more on my academics and less on financial stress. Becoming a nurse isn’t just about securing a career; it’s about being in a position to help others during their most vulnerable moments. This drive to serve others stems from my experiences growing up in a community that often lacked access to adequate healthcare. I want to use my education to bridge that gap and provide care to those who need it most. With this scholarship, I can dedicate more time to my studies and immerse myself in opportunities like clinical experiences, research, and volunteer work, all of which will shape me into a well-rounded nurse. It’s an investment that will not only help me achieve my academic goals but also empower me to give back to others in meaningful ways. Thank you for considering me for this opportunity—it would truly make a difference in my life and the lives I hope to touch in the future.

From a young age, I’ve been fascinated by science and its ability to explain the world around me. I’ve always loved learning about how the body works and how science can be used to improve lives. That passion, combined with my personal experiences, has guided me toward a career in healthcare. I believe this field will allow me to use my gifts of empathy and determination to make a meaningful difference, especially for people in communities like the one I grew up in. Being raised by a single mom in an urban area hasn’t been easy. Financial struggles were a constant, and there were times we weren’t sure how we would make ends meet. When I was accepted to Morehouse College as a first-generation student, it was a dream come true. But that dream almost didn’t happen because we couldn’t afford the tuition. Thankfully, Morehouse stepped in to cover my first year, giving me the chance to pursue my passion for biology and healthcare. Even now, I’m determined to make the most of this opportunity, not just for myself but for my family and my community. My desire to enter healthcare became clear during one of the most challenging moments in my life. My mom, who has always been the backbone of our family, developed fluid in her knee. It became so severe that she couldn’t walk for a while, and as a single parent, this made life even harder for her and for us. When we went to the hospital, we had to wait for nearly five hours to see a doctor. The lack of available physicians and resources in our area was glaring. That experience opened my eyes to the healthcare disparities that exist in urban communities like mine. It made me realize just how critical health is—it affects everything. That day solidified my decision to join the medical field. I want to become a doctor not just to treat illnesses but to help bridge the gap in healthcare access for underserved communities. I’ve seen firsthand how difficult it can be for families to get the care they need, and I want to be part of the solution. With my degree, I plan to work in urban areas, ensuring that people in my community receive the attention and treatment they deserve. My mom has always taught me the importance of giving back and helping others, and I carry that with me every day. I believe I have a gift for understanding and empathizing with people, especially those who feel overlooked. Healthcare isn’t just about curing diseases; it’s about listening, caring, and making people feel valued. As an 18-year-old sophomore majoring in biology, I know I have a long road ahead of me. There are still financial challenges, and I work hard every day to stay on this path despite them. This scholarship would mean everything to me. It would allow me to focus on my studies, continue my journey toward medical school, and one day give back to the community that raised me. This journey means more to me than words can fully express. Being the first in my family to attend college is about more than earning a degree. It’s about paving the way for others and showing that no matter where you come from, you can make a difference. I hope to use this opportunity to bring health and hope to those who need it most. Thank you for considering my application.

Growing up, it was just me, my mom, and my little sister. Our family was small but close-knit, held together by my mom’s unwavering determination. She was a single parent, and while she worked tirelessly to provide for us, financial challenges were a constant reality. There were days when I could feel the weight she carried, and even as a kid, I understood that we were navigating life on limited resources. When I was accepted into Morehouse College, it felt like a dream come true. As a first-generation college student, I was proud to achieve something that felt monumental, not just for me, but for my family. However, reality set in quickly. My mom didn’t have the money to cover the tuition, and while she wanted to help, the burden of paying for Morehouse was heartbreaking. I made the decision to act independently. I applied for scholarships and did a ton of research. I knew that was the only way to realize my dream, even if it was stressful and frequently overwhelming. In order to alleviate some of my mom's stress and assist her with bills, and took on part-time jobs. By the grace of God, Morehouse stepped in and helped cover my first semester. That blessing was more than just financial support—it gave me hope that I could make this dream a reality. Still, when my second year approached, we were struggling again, unsure how we’d get through it. That’s when Kyrie Irving stepped in. Through a GoFundMe my mom had set up, he donated $24,000, covering my second year. That moment was surreal. To know that someone believed in me enough to help like that made all the hard work feel worth it. It wasn’t just about the money—it was about knowing that people cared about my future. Today, I’m a proud Morehouse student, driven not only by my aspirations but also by the sacrifices my mom has made and the generosity of those who have supported us. It’s still just the three of us, and while we don’t have a lot, we have each other and a deep appreciation for the kindness we’ve experienced along the way. As a sophomore biology major at Morehouse, I’m more determined than ever. I want to use my education to give back to my community, especially people like my family who may feel like the odds are stacked against them. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed and unsure of what’s next, and I want to help others find their way. This journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s taught me so much about resilience, faith, and the kindness of others. It’s not just about earning a degree—it’s about using my experiences to make a difference. I may only be 18, but I know I can turn these challenges into something meaningful for myself, my family, and my community. This scholarship will help lead me closer to legacy and breaking this financial burden on my family. It will not be taken advantage of. This scholarship won't just expand my stay at Morehouse but it will be reassured that every penny in this scholarship will be a great use and meaningful. Thank you for reading and considering my anpplication and believing in students like me.

December 30, 2005, 12:15 am , a boy named Caleb Ratliff was born. Kings County Hospital, for the ones who thought they'd go home early that day... man were they in for a surprise. Every time I look at the healed cut from my mom's stomach, I look at her and smile. She put her whole body on the line to have me, and still does. One of the main reasons why I have still been working my butt off since Leadership Prep Brownsville Elementary and now currently the Morehouse College. My mom has been working her butt off for 18 years, taking care of me and my little sister all by herself. I just want to take some stress off her shoulders, therefore I am writing this essay in need of the Milan Alexander Memorial Scholarship. I am currently this first generation in my family to ever go to college, and going to one of the top HBCUs at that. My major is Biology and I'm looking forward to becoming an occupational therapist and opening up my own practice. I also want to become a good investor in the future so I have been teaching myself how to trade and invest in stocks, mainly ETFs. I set a future plan which is to open a LLC and have over 50,000 in my investments when i'm in late 20s. I am in 18 right now and I believe that I have been doing a good so far to reach that goal. Being from Brooklyn, New York especially Bedstuy. It's in our blood to be community friendly. I want to give back to the community, I want to help people, and I believe Biology was a great fit for me because I get to care for others health. Back home I was in a program called EDGE where young black men joined together and spread service around the community. We went to our local health centers and packed food for the less fortunate and also cleaned up our nearby parks and gardens. I have also participated in a Toy Drive ran by my cousins in South Carolina, Myrtle Beach. It was a great experience seeing everyone smile and kids laugh and enjoy their early Christmas gifts. One of my closest cousins died during this time so the family was a little down but giving back to the world is what helps us feel better. In Morehouse College I joined a club called Lytehouse and so far we have cleaned picked garbage from local urban areas, and mentor younger children because everyone needs guidance. My experience in Morehouse College is a blessing. And with this scholarship this will help me extend my stay. I wasn't supposed to be here first semester but with the blessing from GOD, Morehouse decides to pay for my freshman year. This gave enough time for my mom to get a job. However I fear that I will not be enough to pay for the rest of my undergraduate years. Receiving this scholarship will be in appreciation and will not go to waste, 100%. Please take this essay into consideration. My name is Caleb Ratliff, from the home of Spike Lee and this is my application essay to the Milan Alexander Memorial Scholarship.

"What's your story Caleb?" "What made you choose Morehouse College?" The question that's always answered first with a relief sigh. I tend to start off with God. God is the reason why and how I chose Morehouse College. This is his doing. I'm the oldest out of my fathers 4 kids, the oldest out my moms 2. My mom told me that what you think could be a disadvantage will soon be used as an advantage... which is true. They broke apart when my little sister was born, Tiana. I was 8 during this time, not knowing why my mom was so mad that I had a little sister. Callow and naive I was not knowing that my Dad was hurting my you . " I wanna be like you Dad". Na, times changed old man but I still love you though. You didn't show me what was right, but you showed me what was wrong. Time went on, isolated from my other family members, kept in my mothers care. This is when character starts to create itself. And it all begins on 281 Malcolm X Blvd, in Bedstuy, Brooklyn, New york. 2012, my little sister Chloe was born. My mother had no problem with her in my arms therefore maybe because we all shared the same blood. I felt more of an older brother because I actually shared the same roof with her. My mom who I thought was weak, all because the man of the house wasn't around anymore. I was easily influenced, looking up to the older male figures not knowing what was right or wrong. I thought they would help me be strong to protect my family. Well of course not. Why would my mom feel safe with a flag around my neck? I just wanted to help you mom. I wish I was strong enough to protect you from that fist that Dad threw at you. But I was strong... strong enough to hold back my tears and prevent Chloe from seeing you too fight. We were already going through enough. From walls tearing down, no water, no heat. Only a air mattress to sleep on Times where I thought things weren't able to get better, but yet it did. All my mom ever wanted was for me to live a life she wish she could. A foster child, not able to live her dreams because she had to take care of her mothers burden. But through God, we moved out to a better place. A 3 apartment bedroom, beds big enough for your cousins who need to get back on their feet to lay on. Through God I got into that private high-school. Through God I got accepted to Morehouse College, I got a chance to break this curse. The first one through generations who was going to college. When she told me. " Son... Im sorry but you might not be able to go... I don't think we can afford it." I broke down. But so many times I've been broken down and we've found a way to get back up. Out of the blue, Morehouse decided to pay for my first semester. Out of the blue Kyrie Irving sent my mother 24,000 dollars to go back again for my sophomore year. This was all through God. I wasn't supposed to be here, but I AM supposed to be here. So I'm willing to keep on fighting and working because I'm here for a reason and I will build a new legacy. My disadvantage was never a really one to begin with.

Attending an HBCU was one of the best choices I ever made in my life... But it was a hard choice to make. I currently attend Morehouse College going on my second year majoring in Biology. I chose to attend an HBCU because it makes me feel good about myself. I wanted to break this family curse of not attending school. I wanted to make my mom proud. A single mother who wasn't able to go to college because she had to focus on taking care of her siblings. I wanted to remind myself that there is a reason why I work so hard. The way I grew up I always stayed to myself but knowing I have a chance to meet people the same color as me and also working for that degree influenced me to be apart of the community. So far this experience is helping learn more about myself and how bad I really want to win. And I want it bad! I've met so many people, talked to so many people, being able to share your story with people from other places is a blessing to me. My favorite memory here has to be my first homecoming of course. I'm from Brooklyn, New York so of course I had to get fly. And just being the handsome young black man my mom always told me I am, it felt great. The food, the music, the smiles, the laughs everything. It was amazing.