My name is Catrina Maldon, and I am a first-generation, biracial nursing student working toward my BSN. I come from two very different worlds. My mother is an Irish immigrant who came to the U.S. when she was a teenager and ended up in the foster care system, and my father is African American with deep roots in New Orleans and the legacy of slavery and survival. Growing up between two cultures gave me a layered understanding of the world but also came with challenges. I often felt like I didn’t fully belong in either space. That experience taught me how to listen, adapt, and find strength in being different. It’s also what drives me to pursue a future in healthcare. As a first-generation college student everything I’ve done has been a learning curve. There were no shortcuts, no family advice on navigating the college system, and no safety net to fall back on. I’ve worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant and dietary aide while attending school full-time. It’s exhausting, but it’s also proof of how deeply I care. I know what it’s like to feel invisible, to be turned away from quality care, or to be misunderstood by people who don’t share your background. That’s why I’m becoming a nurse, to be the person I once needed. One of the ways I connect with people is through language. I speak both Irish and French which allows me to communicate with patients from different backgrounds and offer care that feels more personal and culturally respectful. I believe this skill will be especially important in global health work where language can be the bridge between fear and trust. My goal is to specialize in trauma and disaster response nursing. I want to be on the ground where help is most urgent after hurricanes, during pandemics, in war zones, and in communities hit hardest by poverty or systemic neglect. I plan to work with organizations like Doctors Without Borders and the Indian Health Service, focusing especially on underserved Native American and Black communities across the U.S. and the world. These are not just places I want to help they are communities I connect to personally. I believe nursing is more than just physical care. It’s about restoring dignity, advocating for the unheard, and showing up with compassion when everything else is falling apart. I want to be a nurse who understands trauma from all angles medical, emotional, cultural, and historical. To prepare for this, I’m taking courses in global health, epidemiology, and public health so I can better serve in emergency response and long-term recovery. My background has taught me how to survive, but nursing is teaching me how to help others do the same. I’ve learned to use my differences as fuel rather than something to hide. I’ve learned that empathy is a skill, not just a feeling and it’s one I plan to use in every patient interaction. What makes me different isn’t just my background it’s my purpose. I’ve made it through things that should’ve stopped me, and I’ve come out more focused, more passionate, and more determined to make a difference in the world. I may be the first in my family to walk this path, but I refuse to be the last. I want to open doors for others, just as I’ve fought to open them for myself. This isn’t just about earning a degree. It’s about becoming the kind of person who changes lives starting with my own, and then reaching as far as I can.

Why I Deserve This Scholarship: A Story of Purpose, Perseverance, and Power In a world where opportunity often favors the well connected or economically secure I have learned to carve out space for myself in silence, through struggle, and in service. My journey is not defined by convenience or comfort, but by resilience, vision, and a deep commitment to healing and transformation, not just for myself but for the communities I represent and serve. I am applying for this scholarship because I embody the qualities of a purposeful, responsible, and productive leader. What sets me apart is not only what I have survived, but what I have chosen to do with it. While others may have walked easier roads my advantage lies in the fire that forged me and the clarity of the mission I carry. To become a trauma informed nurse serving Native American and underserved Black communities, and to one day work globally with Doctors Without Borders. This is not a dream I chase in comfort. It is a calling I pursue with urgency, because I know what it means to be left behind. I was born into two powerful lineages. My mother, an Irish immigrant who came to the United States with barely anything but fierce resilience. My father is an African American man with deep African and Creole roots from New Orleans. My mother's heritage gifted me with a strong connection to storytelling, ancestral pride, and a spirit that refuses to yield. Her people survived colonization and famine, and they carried their identity across seas. My fathers lineage ties me to the survivors of slavery, to black excellence born out of oppression, and to the complexity of African American history in the U.S. From the outside, it might seem like I come from two very different worlds but they are linked by resistance and rebirth. My identity exists in that intersection. And it is not just my heritage that shaped me, it was the reality of being raised in a single parent household, often struggling to get by. I grew up in Connecticut with my mother as the rock of our home. She worked tirelessly to provide us with opportunities she had never had herself. We wore secondhand clothes, shared beds and bedrooms, and learned early how to stretch every dollar. There were moments when even the basics of food, heat, and security were not guaranteed. But what was always constant was my mother's belief in the power of education and community. Her accent, her values, and her sacrifices all left an imprint on me. Through her, I came to understand that being an immigrant does not just mean crossing borders. It means carrying entire histories on your back. It means teaching your children to walk taller, even when they don't feel seen. My mother did that for me, and in doing so planted the earliest seeds of purpose. My cultural identity is not just a detail of who I am, it is the foundation. I am the embodiment of two worlds: Irish and African American, immigrant and native-born, European and diasporic African. This dual heritage has given me a broader lens to understand people, pain, and healing. It has also made me deeply aware of the injustices that still exist across racial, economic and cultural lines and the responsibility I carry to do something about them Adversity shaped my earliest memories. While my mother worked endlessly to protect us and build a life my father introduced chaos and fear into our home. He was an alcoholic and drug user, unpredictable and abusive both verbally and physically. He was not consistently present in my life, but when he was, his presence was volatile. The trauma he inflicted did not just affect my mother, it left deep cracks in the foundation of our family. One of the most devastating moments was when he attempted to kill my older sister, a girl he had never accepted as his own, because she was not his biological child. That moment shattered our sense of safety forever. My mother got all of us restraining orders, and just like that, the fragments of our already fractured childhood were further scattered. Even with him gone the emotional damage lingered. My sister could never forgive my mother for staying as long as she did, and she eventually cut ties with everyone, including us, her younger siblings. I cannot say I have fully forgiven my mother either though I understand she was trapped in her cycle of fear, poverty, and hope that things might change. What I learned through that experience was not just how to survive, but how to see pain clearly, how to carry it, name it, and eventually transform it. We grew up poor. There is no gentle way to put it. My clothes came from thrift stores or were passed down from sibling to sibling. There were times I shared a bed with two of my sisters because there was nowhere else to sleep. My father never contributed financially nor emotionally. He stole from us. He took money from my mother's purse, raided our piggy banks, and drained whatever security we might have had. In many ways, we learned the value of things by watching him strip them away. But I did not let it break me. That is my advantage. Where others might grow bitter, I chose something different: compassion, purpose, and grit. I knew from a young age that I did not want to perpetuate the cycle of pain I had inherited. Instead, I wanted to be part of the solution. I wanted to give people what I never had, safety, stability, and healing. That is when the idea of nursing first entered my mind. I did not just want a job. I wanted a purpose that could transform suffering, my own and others. As I got older, I worked hard to excel in school despite the odds. I became a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), working in nursing homes where I saw firsthand the ways that trauma, aging, and lack of support compound suffering especially among patients from marginalized backgrounds. I have sat with elders who had no family. I have helped women who flinched at touch. I have cared for veterans, stroke survivors, dementia patients, and so many more. These experiences further cemented my calling. I am not just here to perform tasks. I am here to see people who feel invisible. My academic goals are deeply rooted in the idea of transformation not just personal growth, but transformation that reaches communities and entire systems. I am currently pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Nursing (BSN) and intend to further my education. My ultimate goal is to earn my Master of Science in Nursing (MSN) and specialize in trauma, emergency, and disaster response care. I want to be the kind of nurse who can step into chaos and bring calm, and who can treat both visible and invisible wounds. But this is not just about ambition, it is about service. I want to work with the Indian Health Service, specifically on Native American reservations where healthcare access is still limited and trust in medical systems is fragile. This is not a distant ideal; it is a planned, intentional path that I have been preparing for. My desire to serve Native communities is deeply personal. During slavery and beyond, Native Americans often protected and sheltered enslaved Africans even when it put them at risk. That history of solidarity lives on in me. I want to repay that protection by bringing compassionate care where it is most needed. I also plan to serve under-resourced Black communities, where maternal mortality rates, chronic illness, and inadequate mental health services continue to devastate families. My work as a CNA has shown me the real consequences of medical neglect, systemic bias, and generational trauma. I do not just want to be another nurse in the system. I want to be a nurse who disrupts the system for the better. Long-term, my vision extends beyond borders. I want to join Doctors Without Borders and bring medical aid to war-torn regions and disaster zones. I want to stand in the face of global suffering with the skills and heart to make a difference. I am currently pursuing courses in public health and global health to prepare myself for a career in this field. I have also started learning French to increase my ability to serve in international crisis zones. These goals are ambitious but they are not unreachable because I have already beaten the odds to get this far. My academic success is not a reflection of privilege, but rather a testament to persistence. I carry the stories of my ancestors, the resilience of my mother, and the strength I found in the darkest moments of my life. That is my edge. That is my advantage. And with the help of this scholarship I will carry that advantage into places that need healing the most. My commitment to underserved communities is not hypothetical it is lived, intentional, and grounded in gratitude. It begins with a deep acknowledgment of the way underserved communities have shown up for people like me throughout history. Native American nations, despite facing brutal colonization and erasure, still offered protection to enslaved Africans escaping bondage. That shared legacy of solidarity is something I will never forget, and it is something I now feel called to continue. As a future nurse. I believe my duty extends far beyond a hospital room. It stretches into the fabric of society into clinics on tribal land, shelters for the unhoused, community centers in urban neighborhoods, and refugee camps on distant soil. I am not entering the healthcare field to administer medications. I am entering to restore trust. I am here to bear witness to stories that are often ignored and to use every skill I gain to create spaces of dignity and healing. My vision is intersectional. I understand that racial injustice, poverty, immigration status, disability, and generational trauma are not separate issues. They overlap, and they compound. That is why my nursing practice will be guided by cultural humility, not charity. I want to work in communities that have been historically excluded, not as a savior, but as a servant leader who listens first, speaks second, and acts with integrity. One of my most immediate goals is to use my education and training to support Black maternal health and reproductive justice. Black women are more likely to die in childbirth, more likely to be ignored by medical professionals, and more likely to be denied pain relief. I want to be a nurse who not only intervenes medically, but who also fights for policy changes that protect our lives. Whether it is in urban Connecticut, on tribal lands, or abroad, my mission remains the same, to serve those who have been left out of the conversation. I also understand that service is not just about who you help, but it is also about how you help them. My plan includes community outreach, mobile health units, partnerships with tribal and Black-led health initiatives, and collaboration with policy advocates to promote systemic reform. I have seen firsthand how people fall through the cracks of our systems, and I want to be a bridge. not a gatekeeper. Mental health is not just a personal concern for me, it is one of the central reasons I chose nursing as a career. My journey with anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress has taught me what it means to live with invisible wounds. I know what it feels like to carry a smile while drowning inside. I also know what it takes to fight your way back, day by day, thought by thought. That lived experience gave me an unshakable empathy for others. I see things others miss, such as the hesitation behind someone's eyes, the tremble in a voice, the quiet withdrawal that masks unbearable pain. Growing up in a home marked by abuse and instability left me with emotional scars that I had to learn how to name and navigate. Therapy was not easily accessible for us but I eventually found resources through school and local nonprofits. Each session helped me untangle my trauma, reclaim my self worth, and understand the generational cycles I was working to break. My healing was not linear, and it is not complete. Still, it is powerful because it has made me a better listener, a more compassionate caregiver, and a future nurse who understands that mental and physical health cannot be separated. Mental health has also shaped my relationships. I have learned to set boundaries to walk away from toxic dynamics, and to create chosen family when biological ones fractured. It has taught me how to forgive slowly and fiercely, how to sit with discomfort, and how to lead with vulnerability instead of shame. I plan to carry that same emotional intelligence into every patient interaction I have. No one should have to explain their pain twice to be believed. No one should be dismissed just because their wound is not bleeding. In my nursing career, I want to be a bridge between clinical care and emotional understanding. I want to help patients feel seen, safe, and empowered, especially those navigating trauma, mental illness, or grief. I also want to advocate for better mental health training in nursing education, because we cannot keep treating minds as separate from bodies. I believe deeply in trauma informed care, in listening before diagnosing, in meeting people where they are. My long-term plan includes integrating mental health advocacy into every facet of my work. Whether it is in Native communities where historical trauma is still present, or in urban neighborhoods where poverty and violence leave lasting emotional damage, I want to be part of the healing, not just with medicine, but with presence, patience, and empathy. Mental health is not a weakness. It is a roadmap. And it has shown me the way forward. My vision for the future is grounded in reality. It is grounded in action, built on years of endurance, reflection, and clarity of purpose. I see a future where healthcare is accessible, culturally competent, and deeply human. I see a world where Native and Black communities receive care that honors their history, recognizes their trauma, and empowers their healing. I see myself as part of the engine driving that change, not from the sidelines, but from the front lines. In the coming years, I will complete my BSN and transition into graduate studies with a clear focus on trauma informed nursing, public health, and global disaster response. My dream is to serve with the Indian Health Service on tribal land, and eventually with international humanitarian organizations like Doctors Without Borders. But beyond degrees and job titles, I am driven by something much more profound. The responsibility to carry forward the strength of my ancestors, the lessons of my past, and the hope of a better future. I am not perfect, but I am persistent. I have faced more challenges than most people my age, but I have not let them harden me. Instead they have shaped me into someone who wants to give back. I am choosing a career in nursing not just because I care, but because I want to create real change in places that are often overlooked. This scholarship would help me persevere in completing my degree, serving others, and breaking cycles that have lasted for generations. I do not just want to succeed for myself. I want to carry others with me. By awarding me this scholarship, you are not only investing in my education you are helping to build a future where communities long overlooked are cared for with dignity, expertise, and compassion. I am ready to do the work. I just need the opportunity

Domestic violence and substance abuse weren’t just things I heard about they were the background noise of my childhood. My father was in and out of my life until I was around ten. He struggled with alcoholism, drug addiction, and narcissistic abuse. He was physically and verbally violent, especially toward my older sister who is 7 years older than me, who wasn’t his biological child. He treated her as less than and the trauma he inflicted on her still echoes through our family. The final line was crossed when he tried to kill her. After that my mother got restraining orders against him for all of us. It was the first time I felt like we were safe, but by then, so much damage had already been done. My older sister never forgave my mother for staying with him as long as she did. She cut all ties even with me and my younger siblings. I haven’t spoken to her in years. And truthfully I still haven’t fully forgiven my mother either. I know she tried, but knowing that doesn’t erase the fear or silence we were raised in. Those experiences are what led me to nursing. I’m currently earning my BSN and plan to pursue my MSN in trauma and public health nursing. My goal is to serve African American women and Native American communities through the Indian Health Service and local outreach. This calling is rooted not just in my pain but in the harsh reality that 1 in 3 Black women and 1 in 2 Native women experience domestic violence in their lifetime. These numbers aren’t statistics to me they are lived truths, mine included. I want to become a nurse who helps change these outcomes. I want to build trauma-informed, culturally competent systems of care where women are safe, heard, and supported. I plan to work in clinics, shelters, and hospitals to improve communication between medical, mental health, and community providers. No woman should fall through the cracks because providers don’t listen or worse, don’t care. This scholarship would relieve the financial pressure I carry as a full-time student and allow me to stay focused on the education and clinical work needed to serve effectively. I currently work as a CNA, and even at this level, I see the gaps in care every day. I want to be the nurse who fills them. What I’ve lived through from my father’s abuse, to the loss of my sister and also my nephews, to the complicated relationship I still have with my mother has shaped not just my story, but my purpose. I’m not just studying to save lives. I’m studying to help Black and Native women reclaim theirs with care, with dignity, and without shame. Because every woman deserves healing. Even when forgiveness hasn’t come, healing still can