Living with a non-visible disability can be incredibly isolating. People don’t see hearing loss, so they don’t understand the daily challenges that come with it. Throughout my life, I’ve had to overcome struggles that most people never even consider. I have sensorineural hearing loss—profound in my right ear and mild in my left—and since birth I’ve constantly been adapting to a world that wasn’t built with the Deaf community in mind. Socially, hearing loss is especially isolating. Group conversations are exhausting, and I’m often left behind. After the fourth or fifth, “What was that?” or “Can you say that again?” I start to feel like I’m annoying the people around me. So I begin to shrink back—laughing at jokes I didn’t hear, smiling and nodding when it feels right, and pretending to follow along. It’s a quiet kind of loneliness that not many people can understand in this predominantly hearing world. And because my disability isn’t visible, I often have to explain it again and again just to be included. In the academic setting, I have to put in more effort than my peers just to keep up. I relied heavily on lip-reading, front-row seating, and transcripts—things that weren’t always accessible or easy to ask for. Self-advocacy became essential. But when I was younger, I struggled with speaking up for what I needed, as I was constantly worried about being seen as difficult or a burden. That internal conflict of knowing I needed support but fearing I’d be judged for it was one of the hardest parts of my education. Despite these adversities, I committed myself to excelling in school, sports, and my community. I graduated high school with a 4.0 unweighted GPA and was inducted into the National Honor Society, Art Honor Society, and American Sign Language Honor Society. As a varsity athlete, I was welcomed into the Athletic Honor Society, where I earned the High Honor Award. All while working a part-time job and holding an internship—both of which I still maintain. I was also honored with the Unsung Hero Award, given to students who make their district a better place simply by being a part of it. My disability has made me sensitive to the fact that, in everyday life, not everyone is accommodated. I have learned first hand that the world is not designed for everyone. This realization guided me to pursue a degree in which I can be a catalyst for change. Now, I’m pursuing industrial design at the New Jersey Institute of Technology, where I was admitted to the Albert Dorman Honors College. An industrial designer marries creativity with engineering to create products that solve problems. My goal is to view product creation through a lens of accessibility to support underrepresented people and make their daily lives easier. The industrial design solution can be complex, such as the development of closed-captioning smart glasses that allow deaf people to “see” and read conversations in real-time. A solution also can be simple, such as the clear face mask that allows for lip reading, developed during COVID. Regardless of complexity, all of these creations have the ability to help countless people. This scholarship would lift a significant financial burden, allowing me to focus more deeply on my education and on developing solutions that make everyday life better for people with disabilities. I want to be part of a future where accessibility is the standard, not the exception. With your support, I’ll continue working toward that future—where no one has to feel like a burden for simply needing to be included.

Shoes tell a story about their owners. They carry traces of how a person lives—what they do, where they’ve been, and what they value. They can answer questions about a person, turning a stranger into someone familiar. That concept inspired my piece, Beauty Through Wear, which features three sneakers, severed in half, tied together and dangling by their laces. Each shoe shows a different view: the top, the outer side, and a section cut that reveals the interior. I chose to draw only half of each shoe because we rarely get the full picture of someone. Yes, a muddied shoe might suggest a runner or an adventurer, and a high heel might hint at a love for elegance—but those are only surface details. Habits, hobbies, and wear patterns are only quick glimpses into far more complicated lives. Still, shoes become an intimate portrait of their wearer over time. The mold of the sole might suggest someone is always on their toes, constantly rushing, whereas someone who moves slowly bears their weight in different ways. Shoes freeze motion—capturing lived experiences and subtly putting them on display. The shoes are tied together to reflect connections—the laces weave over, under, and through the shoes, much like how we become tangled and untangled with others. These knotted, intertwined laces mirror the complex and sometimes imperfect connections we share. Like Natalie, I create to understand and to connect. I want to continue making works that demonstrate empathy and are centered around the human experience.

Art and design are some of the most powerful tools for connection. Anyone can understand and interpret art, no matter their culture, language, or upbringing. For me, design has always been a way to make sense of the world—and to offer something back to it. As an industrial design student, I’m especially drawn to projects that benefit people and the earth. Early on, I wrestled with the ethics of entering a field responsible for putting more products into a world plagued by overconsumption and waste. I knew I did not want to contribute to a never-ending cycle of buying, using, and dumping. I’ve never wanted to create things just for the sake of creating—I want my work to be intentional, responsible, and impactful. That’s a standard I now apply to every project I tackle. My sensory shark toy, for example, was designed to support children with autism in self-regulation. Its calming textures, gentle colors, and engaging motions encourage stimming as a healthy and comforting behavior. My hammock-bag hybrid was made from thrifted fabrics and donated hardware. I took old materials and transformed them into something useful and full of life. Even my interactive light fixture, while primarily aesthetic, was designed to be flat-packed—as flat-packing promotes efficiency and sustainability through minimizing packaging waste and reducing shipping emissions. I believe design should reflect the needs of real people, not just temporary trends. Through my work, I want to challenge the current cycle of overconsumption and overproduction. I aim to create pieces that are useful, accessible, and built with care for both the individual and the planet. With the support of The WCEJ Thornton Foundation Music & Art Scholarship, I will continue pursuing design that serves a purpose in society—design that leaves the world a little better than it was before.

The world is not designed for everyone. While this statement may seem pessimistic, it is a reality I have lived with since childhood. Diagnosed as a toddler with profound sensorineural hearing loss in my right ear and mild sensorineural hearing loss in my left ear, I constantly found myself working tirelessly to adapt to a world that did not accommodate my needs. Growing up, each of my schools worked hard to help support me. Various FM systems were tried, but these systems do have drawbacks. In some cases, the devices would amplify surrounding noises, making it hard to hear the teacher. Other systems had feedback issues, which would be very distracting. In some cases, the systems made it harder to hear other students, which was especially problematic when classes were working collaboratively. Throughout my life, I found ways to minimize the challenges. I have learned to make adjustments, such as positioning myself to the right of a primary speaker, so I have the best chance of hearing, sitting in the front of all my classes, and also focusing on a speaker’s lips as a way to help me comprehend what is being said. Being hard of hearing during the COVID-19 pandemic presented uncharted obstacles. Masks led to muffled voices, which made it even more difficult to fully understand people. Masks also made it impossible to read lips. Despite the challenges, I committed myself to excel in school, sports, and my community. I graduated high school with a 4.0 unweighted GPA and was a member of the National Honor Society, the Art Honor Society, and the American Sign Language (ASL) Honor Society. As a varsity athlete, I was inducted into the Athletic Honor Society, in which I achieved the High Honor Award. My profound hearing loss has made me sensitive to the fact that, in everyday life, not everyone is accommodated. This realization guided me to pursue a degree in which I can be a catalyst for change. Now, I am attending the New Jersey Institute of Technology as a Dean's Scholar, studying industrial design. An industrial designer marries art and design with technology and engineering to create products and solve problems. My goal is to view product creation through a lens of accessibility to support underrepresented people and make their daily lives easier. The industrial design solution can be very complex, such as the development of closed-captioning smart glasses that allow deaf people to “see” and read conversations in real-time. A solution also can be seemingly simple, such as a clear face mask that allows for lip reading. The development of clear masks during COVID was the difference between isolation and inclusion for me and many others in the Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing community. Regardless of complexity, all of these creations have the ability to help countless people. I am eager to contribute to a world designed for everyone through my work in industrial design, creating products that make inclusivity the standard.

As a toddler, I was diagnosed with profound sensorineural hearing loss in my right ear and mild sensorineural hearing loss in my left ear, leading to a Section 504 classification for support. Over the years, I have adjusted to certain challenges using coping mechanisms such as lip reading. Being hard of hearing during the COVID-19 pandemic presented additional challenges. Masks led to muffled voices, which made it more difficult to understand people. Masks also made it impossible to read lips. Despite the challenges, I worked hard to maintain my grades throughout the pandemic. My experiences made me aware that, in everyday life, not everyone is accommodated. Now at university, studying industrial design, my goal is to view product creation through a lens of accessibility to support underrepresented people and make their daily lives easier. The product design solution can be complex, such as closed-captioning smart glasses that allow deaf people to “see” conversations in real time. A solution also can be seemingly simple, such as a clear face mask that allows for lip reading. Regardless of complexity, all these creations can help countless people. I am excited to make a difference in the greater community as an industrial designer.