My passion for STEAM comes from my love of science, math, and nature. As a neurodivergent person, analytical thinking is natural to me. Growing up on the Hualapai reservation, I sought calm in nature amid the chaos of my crowded home, which I shared with my seven siblings. Our house was small, loud, and often stressful. So I would slip outside whenever I could. I would sit and observe animals, insects, plants, the movement of the river, and the wind. That time alone in the natural world helped me regulate my nervous system long before I had the language to describe what I was doing. It also shaped my understanding that science is not something separate from daily life. It is in the soil we plant, in the water we protect, and in the way we design our homes to work with the environment rather than against it. This belief drives my pursuit of a degree in environmental and sustainability studies along with certificates in Sustainable Horticulture, and Business Management.They are the formal training I need to restore food sovereignty, sustainable housing and in my community. I am also a creative. For the past decade, I built a photography business from the ground up. I worked on campaigns with major brands, directed large creative teams that included models, hair stylists, makeup artists, and wardrobe professionals, and honed my skills in marketing, branding, and visual storytelling. While I am proud of that work, my focus has shifted onto something bigger: sustainable agriculture, ethical design, and economic development for my tribe, especially since becoming a mother. My 17-month-old son, Tokala, gives me hope and motivation to serve our future generations. I was able to get him into a daycare program enabling me to go back to school and stay focused on my studies. My tribe, the Hualapai Nation, has allotted me 40 acres to establish a nonprofit farm that grows fresh produce, herbs, and traditional crops to promote food sovereignty for my people. The nearest grocery store is a 100-mile round-trip journey. Too many families on the reservation struggle to access fresh and healthy food. I want to change this. I also plan to build a boutique hotel and a farm-to-table restaurant that brings tourism to our land, creates jobs, and drives the local economy, while honoring Hualapai culture. I want to build natural, traditional cob houses that are both artistically beautiful and energy-efficient, addressing the housing crisis in a way that reflects who we are as a people. These plans require more than passion. They require credentials, connections, and a detailed knowledge of science and business. That is why I am back at school, enrolled full-time while raising my young son. I am earning my associate degrees and certificates so that I can transfer to a four-year university and continue building the expertise that this project demands. Every class I take, every skill I gain, is one more tool I can carry home. For me, arts and science are not separate paths. They are one road that leads back home to the reservation. Kayla Nicole Monk had a clear vision and pursued it with firmness. I share that same drive and hope to transform the 40 acres that my tribe has entrusted to me through education and entrepreneurship. This scholarship would relieve my financial burden, allowing me to concentrate fully on my studies and return to the reservation equipped to make a real difference. Like Kayla, whose ambitions inspired many, I want to be a pillar of my community. I hope to uphold her legacy by bringing it forward.

Growing up as a mixed-native child, I lived in limbo—never enough for either world. On the reservation, I was engulfed by accusations of being too white; in white communities, I was reduced to being too brown. My tribal enrollment couldn't protect me. My mixed blood was always a mark: a reason to be targeted, a reason to be challenged. Blood quantum, forced on us, slices through our communities, separating family from family. I have felt the sting of racism and prejudice, not only from beyond reservation borders, but from neighbors and kin. In the small, rural Hualapai reservation, the marks of institutional racism, colonization, and relentless oppression run through daily life. They determine who belongs. They decide who is thrown out. I was also raised in the Mormon LDS church, deepening the fracture inside me. Their teachings taught me that being brown-skinned and poor meant I was worth less than. I was branded with the so-called dark mark of Cain. That wound doesn't just ache—it seeps into your bones, warps your reflection, and grooms you to despise your own skin. For years, I carried those lies. The church shaped my upbringing around Mormon doctrine while suffocating my Hualapai culture. My heritage was stolen from me, and I didn't even recognize the loss. Years of quiet questioning, pain and eventual awakening finally removed the wool from my eyes. Leaving this religion proved both difficult and liberating. Now I see it as a harmful institution, especially for women and people of color. I am forever grateful to have escaped it. Since reclaiming my identity, I have poured my heart into reconnecting with my tribe and culture. Every pow wow and ceremony feels like a homecoming. Every lesson in Hualapai history, language, and tradition has been a way to heal and rediscover who I am. At council meetings and through policy advocacy, I raise my voice for those who came before me. Volunteering is my way of honoring ancestors. Most deeply, working with Native youth fills me with hope. Guiding them, cheering their dreams, and capturing their potential through professional headshots—these are gifts I longed for in my own youth. I want them to never feel alone; I want them to know they matter. Now I am finally home within myself. I know where I belong—my roots run deep in this. My goal is to act as a cornerstone for my community, stable and firm. Every class I take, every connection I forge, is driven by a desire to return home and uplift my tribal community. My success isn't only my own; it belongs to my family, my tribe, and every Native kid who needs to feel their worth. They are the future, and I will dedicate myself to building it, brick by brick.