My decision to pursue social work was deeply personal. Growing up, I experienced anxiety and depression, but whenever I reached out for help, my struggles were dismissed. In my family, like in many Black households, mental health was not taken seriously, especially for children. I was told to go outside, lose weight, or distract myself instead of being offered real support. Those experiences made me realize how much children suffer when they are not given the space to be heard or the resources to heal. I knew early on that I wanted to dedicate my life to changing that cycle. A degree in social work felt like the most natural path because it would give me the knowledge and tools to advocate for children and families who are often overlooked. Since beginning my program, my understanding of social work has grown and shifted. Originally, I thought I wanted to focus solely on therapy for children, but I have learned that social work extends far beyond one-on-one counseling. It is about addressing systemic barriers, advocating for policy change, and empowering communities. This has inspired me to expand my vision of the future. I still plan to work closely with children as a counselor, therapist, or school-based support professional, but I now also see myself working at a community level—educating families about mental health, breaking down stigmas, and fighting for resources in underserved neighborhoods. My ultimate goal is to serve children who feel invisible and unheard, because I know what that feels like. I want to create safe spaces where kids can express their emotions, process trauma, and receive the guidance they need to thrive. I also hope to support families, especially parents who may not understand mental health struggles, so that children are not dismissed the way I once was. Beyond direct practice, I plan to give back by using my voice to raise awareness about the importance of early mental health intervention, particularly in Black and minority communities where stigma is strongest. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education despite the financial challenges I currently face. As the oldest of six siblings, and after losing both of my parents less than two years ago, I have had to carry responsibilities far beyond my age while balancing grief, housing insecurity, and tuition debt. Still, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA and remained committed to my dream. Social work is not just a career choice for me—it is a calling. I am resilient, compassionate, and determined to transform my struggles into purpose. With your support, I will continue my education and dedicate my life to making sure children receive the help, hope, and healing they deserve.

My decision to pursue social work was deeply personal. Growing up, I experienced anxiety and depression, but whenever I reached out for help, my struggles were dismissed. In my family, like in many Black households, mental health was not taken seriously, especially for children. I was told to go outside, lose weight, or distract myself instead of being offered real support. Those experiences made me realize how much children suffer when they are not given the space to be heard or the resources to heal. I knew early on that I wanted to dedicate my life to changing that cycle. A degree in social work felt like the most natural path because it would give me the knowledge and tools to advocate for children and families who are often overlooked. Since beginning my program, my understanding of social work has grown and shifted. Originally, I thought I wanted to focus solely on therapy for children, but I have learned that social work extends far beyond one-on-one counseling. It is about addressing systemic barriers, advocating for policy change, and empowering communities. This has inspired me to expand my vision of the future. I still plan to work closely with children as a counselor, therapist, or school-based support professional, but I now also see myself working at a community level—educating families about mental health, breaking down stigmas, and fighting for resources in underserved neighborhoods. My ultimate goal is to serve children who feel invisible and unheard, because I know what that feels like. I want to create safe spaces where kids can express their emotions, process trauma, and receive the guidance they need to thrive. I also hope to support families, especially parents who may not understand mental health struggles, so that children are not dismissed the way I once was. Beyond direct practice, I plan to give back by using my voice to raise awareness about the importance of early mental health intervention, particularly in Black and minority communities where stigma is strongest. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education despite the financial challenges I currently face. As the oldest of six siblings, and after losing both of my parents less than two years ago, I have had to carry responsibilities far beyond my age while balancing grief, housing insecurity, and tuition debt. Still, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA and remained committed to my dream. Social work is not just a career choice for me—it is a calling. I am resilient, compassionate, and determined to transform my struggles into purpose. With your support, I will continue my education and dedicate my life to making sure children receive the help, hope, and healing they deserve.

From the time I was a child, I knew something inside me felt heavier than it should. I experienced anxiety and depression, but when I asked my family for help, I was told to “lose weight,” “go outside,” or “find a boyfriend.” Like many children in Black families, my mental health struggles were dismissed rather than understood. Those moments planted a seed in me: one day, I would become the person I needed back then—the person who would listen, validate, and help children navigate emotions that too often go ignored. Today, I am pursuing a degree in psychology with the goal of becoming either a child psychiatrist, therapist, or school counselor. I want to dedicate my career to making mental health care more accessible and accepted, especially for children who grow up in environments where emotional struggles are minimized or stigmatized. Children deserve more than being told to “toughen up.” They deserve guidance, empathy, and professional support. My path, however, has not been easy. I am the oldest of six siblings, and less than two years ago, I lost both of my parents. Balancing grief, responsibility, and my own mental health has been one of the hardest battles of my life. At the same time, I am facing eviction due to discriminatory practices from my management office, and I am struggling with tuition debt that has temporarily paused my education. Despite all of these challenges, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA, proving my determination and ability to excel when given the opportunity. There are many days when it feels easier to give up, but I continue to push forward. School has been my anchor—the one place where I feel hopeful about the future. Every class I complete reminds me that I am one step closer to becoming the professional I needed as a child, and one step closer to making a real difference in the lives of other children. Education gives me purpose and fuels my resilience. This scholarship would not just help me financially—it would help me reclaim my path. With support, I would be able to continue my education without the constant fear of tuition debt holding me back. It would allow me to focus on my studies and my long-term goal of becoming a trusted professional for children who desperately need someone to listen, guide, and advocate for them. I am hardworking, resilient, and compassionate. Life has tested me with more challenges than I ever expected, but I refuse to let those struggles define me. Instead, I want to transform my pain into purpose. My dream is not just to earn a degree—it is to create a safe space for children to be heard and healed, so no child has to feel invisible the way I once did. With your support, I can turn that dream into reality.

I didn’t find social work, it found me, during one of the hardest seasons of my life. A few years ago, my family and I were facing housing instability. I watched my parents struggle to communicate with government offices, apply for benefits, and access resources that seemed just out of reach. We weren’t lazy. We weren’t unmotivated. We just didn’t know where to turn. One day, a social worker sat with my mother for over two hours, patiently walking her through paperwork, translating complex terms, and offering empathy without judgment. That day changed everything. It was the first time I realized how much power there is in simply helping people feel seen. That moment was my why. I decided to pursue a degree in social work because I want to be that same source of clarity, support, and hope for others. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I felt called to it in a way that was deeper than just a job title, it felt like a purpose. Since starting the program, my understanding of social work has evolved tremendously. At first, I thought it was mainly about connecting people to resources. Now I understand it’s also about advocacy, policy change, crisis intervention, and being a voice for those who often go unheard. I’ve learned that social workers don’t just work for people; they work with them, honoring their strengths, cultures, and lived experiences. It’s not about saving people, it’s about empowering them. My studies have deepened my passion, but they’ve also expanded my vision. I’ve been exposed to areas of social work I hadn’t considered before, like school social work, trauma counseling, and community organizing. While I entered this field because of my own experience with housing and poverty, I’ve realized that my heart beats just as loudly for children, survivors of abuse, and individuals navigating mental health challenges. The program has reminded me that I don’t have to pick just one issue to care about, because social work is about meeting people where they are, across all walks of life. In my community, I plan to serve those who are often overlooked: low-income families, single mothers, at-risk youth, and those affected by housing insecurity. I want to work in nonprofit spaces that provide holistic services, from counseling to job readiness to emergency housing referrals. I also hope to one day create programs specifically for young people who have aged out of foster care, helping them find stable housing, access education, and build emotional support systems. Eventually, I plan to return to school for my MSW so I can provide therapy and supervision within these same populations. Social work has given my pain a purpose. It has taken my experiences and turned them into fuel for something meaningful. This scholarship would help me continue walking this path, not just for myself, but for every person waiting for someone to show up for them the way that social worker once did for my family.

When I was a child, I often found myself being the “listener”, the one everyone confided in, even when I barely knew what to say. I didn’t have the words for it back then, but I now understand that I was offering what so many people quietly long for: a safe space. That realization led me to choose a career path in mental health. I chose this field because I want to give people what I wished I had, someone to help me navigate life’s most overwhelming emotions, traumas, and transitions. I’ve seen firsthand how untreated mental health struggles can affect families, communities, and generations. Growing up in a community where therapy was considered “taboo” or “only for crazy people,” I want to be part of changing that narrative. I want to make mental health support feel just as normal, and essential, as going to the doctor or talking to a teacher. My future goals are both personal and professional. Academically, I aim to earn my bachelor’s degree in psychology and eventually become a licensed mental health counselor (LMHC), specializing in trauma and family systems. Long term, I want to open a community wellness center in underserved neighborhoods that offers therapy, support groups, parenting workshops, and crisis intervention. I want to create a space where healing is accessible, culturally sensitive, and affordable. A space where people can come broken and leave whole. So far, my experience in the mental health field has been grassroots but powerful. I’ve volunteered with youth mentorship programs and supported peers through college resource centers by offering a listening ear, referrals, and emotional support. I also serve as a bridge in my own family, educating loved ones about anxiety, depression, and childhood trauma. It might not be formal training yet, but it’s real-life experience. I’ve sat with someone as they broke down and helped them feel safe enough to ask for professional help. I’ve researched local counseling centers for a friend and followed up with her to make sure she actually called. I’ve advocated for the people around me, even when it was uncomfortable. That’s the work. That’s what I’m meant to do. Academically, I’ve proven my dedication with a 4.0 GPA and consistent honor roll status. I take this work seriously because it’s not just about a degree, it’s about purpose. My education is the key to helping others reclaim their peace, and every paper I write or test I pass gets me one step closer to that mission. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of my education, but it would also affirm that someone believes in this mission too. It would allow me to continue growing, learning, and becoming the mental health professional I wish I had growing up. Because somewhere out there, someone is waiting for me to be that safe space, and I won’t let them down.

“You Never Know Who’s Watching” When I was younger, I used to believe that success only mattered if people could see it. I thought you had to be the loudest, the most visible, the center of attention to be considered a role model. But I’ve learned that some of the most powerful impacts come from quiet consistency—the kind you don’t even know someone is noticing. A few months ago, I was walking home from class when a girl from my neighborhood stopped me. She’s about 14 and we’ve never really spoken. She looked at me and said, “I see you always going to school with your books, dressed nice, like you’re really doing something. You make me wanna try harder.” I smiled and thanked her, but inside, I was speechless. I had no idea anyone was paying attention to my daily routine. I was just trying to stay focused and do my best, despite everything I’m facing in the background. I’m currently holding a 4.0 GPA while balancing life as a full-time student and navigating some heavy personal challenges. My husband is out of work until August due to his seasonal job, and I’m unemployed while also managing rent arrears and court dates related to housing. Still, I get up every day, log into class, complete my assignments early, and keep my camera off—not to hide, but because I sometimes attend class from places no one would expect. I do this not because it’s easy, but because I know my future is worth fighting for. What makes me different is my resilience. I don’t have the luxury of giving up. I leverage my uniqueness by being real, by being consistent, and by letting my quiet discipline speak louder than my words. I’m not the student with the most resources, but I might be the student with the most heart. And apparently, even when I think no one sees me, I’m inspiring someone else to try. That’s what keeps me going. I believe our power lies not just in who we are, but in who we give others permission to become. Just by being myself—persistent, thoughtful, hopeful—I’ve encouraged a young girl to believe in herself. She might not remember my name, but she’ll remember that someone who looked like her, came from her block, made school look possible. That’s a legacy I’m proud to build, one step at a time. This scholarship would not just help me financially—it would help amplify that quiet impact I never knew I had. With your support, I can continue walking toward my future, and maybe someone else, who doesn’t even know me, will start walking toward theirs.