We are all frauds. Let me explain! The dictionary defines fraud as “a person who is not what they pretend to be.” Imposter syndrome has ruled many people’s life stories, even mine. The problem is that we never realized how much space it occupies. Before high school, I would sit in AP and Dual enrollment classes, and I thought I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or didn’t deserve the opportunity to participate. Little did I know that we frauds, particularly those who live a life according to the world’s projections, possess a different perception of reality. We often believe false evidence. It’s the idea that “what we perceive to be a threat is real, even when there is no evidence to support that danger .” Everyone has thoughts based on what they perceive, whether or not there is evidence to support it, leading to self-doubt. It even affects your health leading to social anxiety and low self-esteem and like Felecia Hatcher said, “If you feel like an imposter, it’s because you are. You’re pretending to be a nobody when you are meant to be where you are and who you are.” If we stop pretending to be someone we’re not because we fear getting “exposed,” we will never learn to make our fears work to our advantage. I am usually the youngest in some of my classes where people’s agism called me “less than” and “inexperienced”. Our perception dictates how we present ourselves to the world. How we think and understand things is ruled by this perception. When my perception was based on that of others, I doubted my own capabilities, contributing to my imposter syndrome. I did not need to stay confined to other people’s perceptions of me. Simply living a life based on YOUR perception and projection of yourself will reflect that. But to do that, you must first face your fears. Public speaking is a monster to me because I would shy away from doing it. Avoiding fears only makes them worse. However, gradually exposing yourself to the thing you’re scared of can help you maintain control and overcome your fear. My first step of exposure was running for leadership positions in my clubs. The next step was deciding to run for divisional and district positions. Through the fear of not being good enough, I persevered. I didn’t win. But my attempt at confronting my fear did wonders because what you resist persists. Just like in Angela Lee Duckworth’s famous TedTalk about Grit, she said, “Grit is living life like it’s a marathon, not a sprint.” The marathon is when you face your fears head-on, like in a long MMA fight. It led me to realize the true importance of the journey there. When you face it head-on, you will find the root cause of your fears. Take a deep dive into yourself to find out why you developed imposter syndrome or feel like an imposter. My own deep dive into what makes me who I am made me realize where this imposter syndrome stemmed from: my family environment. Growing up, I dealt with a lot of hidden pain, sorrows, and challenges from my upbringing. My lack of confidence in myself bloomed from all the bullying—from family and “friends”— and neglect —there were times when my family ignored my achievements— which no one deserves. I had to be transparent with myself to see that. We are all frauds in some way or another. But that is not all there is to your life or story. Imposter syndrome can either be your Achilles heel or your strength.

I used to believe that having a plan meant having everything figured out. I thought successful people always knew exactly where they were doing. My experience with education has taught me something very different, that direction is not something you are given, but something you build, often in moments when you feel the most uncertain. As a first-generation Haitian-American student, I grew up understanding that education was important, but I did not always have the guidance to navigate it. My parents emphasized working hard and building a stable future, but they did not have firsthand experience with higher education in the United States or any at all. Because of this, many of the steps that other students seemed to take naturally, such as applying to programs, seeking internships, and understanding financial aid, were things I had to figure out on my own. That uncertainty was one of the biggest challenges I faced. There were moments when I questioned whether I was making the right decisions or if I was capable of reaching the goals I had set for myself. Balancing school, leadership roles, and personal responsibilities only added to that pressure. At times, I felt like I had to prove that I belonged in spaces where I did not always see people who looked like me or shared my background. Instead of allowing that doubt to stop me, I made the decision to move forward anyway. One of the most defining moments in my academic journey was beginning a bachelor’s degree while still in high school. It pushed me far outside of my comfort zone, and I did not always feel ready. I had to learn discipline quickly, manage my time carefully, and speak up for myself in spaces that were completely new to me. Education slowly became more than just a requirement. It became my foundation. It gave me structure when I felt uncertain and confidence when I doubted myself. Through my studies, I discovered my interest in technology, particularly in cybersecurity and software development. I realized that technology was not just something I could learn, but something I could use to build, solve problems, and make an impact. Programs like Girls Who Code and Tech Flex Leaders introduced me to web development and game design and helped me see the creative side of technology. For the first time, I was not just learning, I was creating. Later, being selected for the SEO Tech Developer First Year Academy, where only 75 students were chosen from over 500 applicants, challenged me to grow even more. It pushed me to think differently, solve problems more deeply, and trust my ability to keep improving. At the same time, my experiences outside of the classroom shaped my sense of purpose. As an Advising Fellow with Matriculate, I now mentor high school students through the college application and transition process. This role is deeply personal to me because I was once in their position. As a high school fellow in the program, I relied on mentorship to navigate a system that felt overwhelming. Now, I am able to give that same support to students who are unsure, just like I once was. Through mentorship, I have learned that education is not just about individual success. It is about access. Many of the students I work with are first-generation and uncertain about their future. Being able to guide them, answer their questions, and remind them that they belong has become one of the most meaningful parts of my journey. Today, I have completed my degree in cybersecurity and am pursuing a second degree in computer science and business. This reflects how my goals have grown. I no longer just want to understand technology. I want to build with it, lead with it, and use it to create opportunities that reach beyond myself. In the future, I hope to work as a software development engineer and eventually open my own cybersecurity firm to help protect individuals’ data and digital security. I also plan to create nonprofit organizations that expose students to technology and guide young women into fields where they are often underrepresented. These goals come from my own experiences, knowing what it feels like to figure things out alone and wanting to make that process easier for someone else. The challenges I have faced, navigating education as a first-generation student, managing pressure, and learning to believe in my own potential, have shaped my direction. They have taught me that growth does not come from having everything figured out, but from continuing forward even when you do not. Education has given me more than knowledge. It has given me clarity, confidence, and purpose. It has shown me that where I come from does not limit where I can go. More importantly, it has taught me that who I am becoming is just as important as where I am headed. And if there is one thing I have learned, it is that you do not have to feel ready to move forward; you just have to be willing to take the step.

“If you don’t talk about your feelings, they’ll build up and you will eventually explode.” For much of my life, I believed strength meant staying silent. I wore confidence-like armor and achievement-like a shield, hoping it would protect me from the emotional turmoil I carried underneath. But I have learned that real strength comes not from bottling up pain but from speaking up, being vulnerable, and using my experience to uplift others. My journey with mental health began quietly. As a first-generation Haitian, I carried the pressure to excel not just for myself but for my family and community. I became the first in my high school to begin a bachelor’s degree while still enrolled in high school, a milestone that looked impressive on the outside but came with immense internal pressure. Between leadership roles in Key Club, DECA, and Girls Who Code, and pushing myself academically, I often felt like I had to prove that I was enough, even when I felt like I was falling apart inside. There were moments when the anxiety felt suffocating, when self-doubt clouded my vision, and my drive became fueled more by fear of failure than passion. But I kept going, telling myself that successful people didn’t slow down. What I didn’t realize then was that high performance doesn’t cancel out pain. You can lead others and still feel lost. You can be proud of your accomplishments and still feel overwhelmed. Most importantly, you can ask for help and still be strong. My life took a different direction when I decided to express myself authentically. I started talking to a mentor while writing down my life experiences. I revealed my emotions to people I trusted, and this experience brought me the first genuine feeling of understanding beyond my abilities and into my authentic self. Emotional honesty proved to be a healing force instead of a weakness, thus changing everything I believed. The discovery completely changed my life values. My leadership direction now focuses on empathy instead of solely on execution. The way I share myself with care through open and present communication has helped me build strong, lasting relationships. My journey with mental health helped me survive tough times but simultaneously helped me develop into a better leader, supportive friend, and changemaker. It reshaped my career goals. I’m currently pursuing a Bachelor’s in Cybersecurity while in high school and have participated in programs like CodePath’s Technical Interview Prep, where I use Python and the UMPIRE problem-solving process to build coding solutions. But beyond technical success, I want to create a movement combining tech education with emotional empowerment. My vision is to build an organization that supports underrepresented students, especially young women of color, by giving them access to tech skills, scholarship resources, mentorship, and, most importantly, mental health tools. Because I have lived the reality of pushing through pain alone, I want to make sure others do not have to. This scholarship will help me move forward with that mission. This is not just about financial relief. It shows that healing and achievement can go together. Students like me, who have challenges and resilience, should be able to lead, make a difference, and help build the future of our communities. I continue to develop my mental health understanding, but I no longer consider it something to conceal. This element combines with my identity as I evolve into my desired professional self. I know now that resilience is not the absence of pain. It’s the courage to feel, speak, and use it to build something better for yourself and others.