While I am not left-handed like Charles was, I did teach myself how to do pirouettes, turns in ballet, to the left (the wrong way). I was enrolled in dance at three years old but had to be taken out due to financial hardships. Before re-enrolling as a teenager, I would spend hours a day on YouTube trying to teach myself how to dance. During those years, it never dawned on me that the videos were inverted, meaning I was turning the wrong way. When I started taking classes, I constantly fell out of my turns and looked like a fawn learning to use its legs for the first time. Turning is very important in dance, so I felt embarrassed, but I loved dancing so much that I viewed my mistake into a challenge. Many of the dancers that were on competitive dance teams began competing when they were in kindergarten. I remember seeing the competition team's extravagant production dance, it was 80's themed that year, and wanting with all of my might to be on that team. I would come in before my own dance class to watch their practices. I danced hard, had private lessons, and kept practicing my turns and leaps on my grandparent's carport or in the kitchen when no one was looking. After receiving an invitation to try out for the competition team, I practiced my turns everywhere. During my P.E. classes, you could catch me beside the bleachers pirouetting and doing turns in second position with my right leg whirling around beside me. All of my practice soon paid off when I made the team and even got a small solo part in the production dance. My passion for dancing eventually overshadowed my mistake of learning to turn the wrong way. When I became more serious about dancing and wanted to become a dance teacher, my mom allowed me to take ballet classes at the Pre-Professional Ballet Conservatory in my town. Ironically, and lucky for me, we were required to be able to turn both ways. While I may have had an average right-turning pirouette, I had the most balanced and cleanest left-turning pirouettes in my class. I was called on to demonstrate my turns and other skills I gained from being a strong left-turner. I stood out. I felt so proud myself when I demonstrated, especially in a class with pre-professional ballerinas. In the years after, I choregraphed a routine that was performed internationally, worked for a dance competition, judged dance auditions, and became a dance teacher. Any embarrassment I previously felt from beginning as a self-taught dancer was erased. I went from turning on the carport in socks to teaching numerous student dancers how to turn in both directions.

As a first-generation independent college student with disabilities, I relate and empathize with other students who are working towards successful careers and futures while balancing jobs, internships, unseen illness or misfortunes, and classes. I decided to purse volunteer work for two years after high school that afforded me skills, knowledge, and remarkable experiences enabling me to be adaptable, resourceful, empathetic, and always at the ready to defend and make way for anyone who encounters difficulties. My job and life experiences after being a full-time volunteer worker redefined my perseverance. Adding a sudden disability and dealing with chronic illness to poverty created stacks of problems that dimmed lights through doors that were opening for me. Today, when looking at the challenges I have overcome and still face while continuing college, I have a deep understanding of how transformative it is to have financial support that is dedicated to first-generation students that goes beyond state grants and student loans. The ever-constant blockade I face during my journey in college is my lack of finances and financial resources. Even with the resources I may have been given, or the agencies I have been connected to, I have been met with many "you don't meet the requirements" or "we are unable to...". The hours spent in waiting rooms, hearing queue messages that break through hold music every few minutes on a help line, and the many denial letters from state agencies without clear reason took a toll on my physical and mental health and outlook on my future. According to Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, our physiological needs and need for safety are of the most basic needed to survive. While there are meal plans and food pantry for students in many areas, there is also lack of transportation, closures during holidays, unique dietary needs, and lack of places to store food for unhoused students living in cars. Most first-generation students have families that are incapable of proving adequate financial support or any financial support at all. Many students in certain college programs have to choose multiple lower paying jobs for flexibility and partial financial stability in order to accommodate classes. Being an impoverished student with disabilities also means making every effort to manage chronic illness and needing accommodations for my disabilities for both school and classes but still falling behind. I heavily empathize and understand how a lack of finances can create an easier path to "failure to thrive" situations rather than graduating college. I believe that the best way I can inspire and motivate other first-generation students to pursue higher education is to be in a position that allows me to secure funding through educating corporations on the impact first-generation students make in the workforce. First-generation students know what it means to work hard, but often hard work is not enough. Many of us need extra help before and during college that goes beyond the classroom. We have the motivation within us to work towards receiving an education our parents may have not been afforded, but a lack of financial resources and not having our physiological needs or need for safety met can set us back from success. Securing dedicated funds and intentional financial planning for out-of-classroom expenses allocated to first-generation students from corporations will build connections for career advancement while substantially contributing to the success of students like me.

Two years ago, I woke up to partial silence. Overnight, I had lost all hearing in my right ear due to Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss (SSNHL), a rare condition often overlooked by healthcare professionals. After being misdiagnosed and dismissed, it took almost a week to receive any treatment for this, which narrowed the window of regaining hearing. I did not know at the time, but it would take almost two years to get adequate testing. In fact, this is something I am still dealing with and receiving testing for today. This unexpected adversity was not just about the loss of hearing, but the cascade of challenges that followed. I found myself unable to understand speech amidst any background noise, a constant reality in public spaces. I also began dealing with issues of imbalance- both led to giving up my job as a dance instructor. The sudden onset of my disability altered my life significantly. I could no longer work in any job as I had before and needed accommodations that many employers couldn’t provide. The importance of hearing and language comprehension, which I had taken for granted, became starkly evident. I come from an underserved family and have been completely independent since I was 18. Navigating through unemployment, financial adversities, and college has been draining, intimidating, and often embarrassing. My college’s exceptional disability services department and the advent of technology allowed me to continue my education with live captions created by skyping a captioner during class- a huge relief. Though imperfect, I am finally able to participate in class discussions. I faced the threat of eviction several times, food insecurity, and the challenge of affording tuition. There were moments when I feared I might have to give up on my college education. Yet, having an invisible disability has made me stronger. I realized that while my language comprehension might be impaired forever, it does not define my potential or limit my goals. The path to solutions was not easy, and it required me to amplify my self-advocacy and discover new ways to succeed. The most profound realization came from witnessing the indomitable spirit of others with disabilities who refused to let their challenges hold them back. A dance student of mine, despite wearing hearing aids, continued to be a leader in class, a part of our competition team, and shone on stage. A counselor of mine, despite his visual disability, continues to inspire and assist students with disabilities. Their resilience taught me that overcoming meant persisting, despite the unknown and discomfort. I thought overcoming this adversity entailed a hearing aid or miraculous cure that would undo my disability. Overcoming my invisible disability involves self-advocacy, asking for more time, captions, or repetition. It involves self-empowerment; remembering those who charge at obstacles despite their disabilities, and reminding myself that I can do the same. Most importantly, overcoming means believing in myself. The biggest part of my battle was deciding to believe in my capabilities, knowing they far outweigh my disabilities. Now, as I complete my sophomore year in college, I am more determined than ever to prove that we have the power to overcome anything when we believe in ourselves.

A 2021 study published in the Journal of Women's Health states, "The health of Black women is reflected in their disproportionately poor health outcomes, which are due to a complex array of barriers to quality health care, racism, and stress stemming from the unique social experiences of Black womanhood in U.S. society." As a black woman, the difficulties I have faced while seeking healthcare have been overwhelming, yet inspirational and prudent as I embarked on becoming a healthcare professional. In 2022, at the age of 25, I experienced sudden hearing loss, and my ability to comprehend language was severely affected. I had countless doctor visits, yet no one took me seriously. My experience was infuriating; I felt overlooked, unheard, and dismissed. Two years later, I have just recently undergone further testing that recorded and proved the same symptoms that previous doctors told me I made up. This is thanks to my neurologist, who is a woman of color, who saw me, listened to me, and believed me. I include my story because, while my goal has always been to be a healthcare professional in some capacity, I was not certain what that would look like. While I do not necessarily believe we encounter sudden illnesses and/or disabilities for a purpose, I do believe we can make a purpose out of these painful experiences. Realizing that I had experienced racial discrimination and that my medical concerns and symptoms had been dismissed up until I was treated by a health professional who looked like me gave me a deeper understanding of how necessary it is to increase diversity in healthcare. My professional goal, after completing my undergraduate degree in Organizational Leadership in Healthcare with a minor in Sign Language Interpreting, is to attend graduate school and receive my Master of Human Resources, preferably from the University of South Carolina. Completing this program would help propel me towards my goal of being a leader in Human Resources, specifically as a Chief of Patient Experience. Upon obtaining this role, I plan to improve and create training programs and guidelines that not only educate but also help eliminate discrimination, thereby implementing fair treatment for patients, caretakers, and employees alike, Assuming this role would enable me to advocate for those who are often unheard, including patients like me whose concerns are frequently overlooked, and individuals lacking advocates or the capacity to advocate for themselves. Proficiency in Sign Language would obviate the necessity for an interpreter, fostering a setting that is both comfortable and wholly confidential for individuals who are hearing impaired or unable to communicate verbally. As an HR supervisor in a hospital, my goal would be to improve and broaden the diversity of our recruitment demographics. This includes initiating programs that foster and support students and future employees of color aspiring to enter the healthcare industry. Having more doctors of color is not sufficient; we need individuals who represent us to make decisions at the highest levels, honoring racial diversity. They must commit to consistently including and equipping people of color in various healthcare positions and developing systems that render healthcare and related job opportunities more accessible. These are just a few of the objectives I intend to achieve. This scholarship would lessen the financial strain associated with my collegiate education. Moreover, it would be a prestigious and motivating recognition to witness the fruition of my dream, for which I would be immensely thankful.

As a 26-year-old attending the University of South Carolina Upstate, my journey has been anything but conventional. After high school, I embarked on an extraordinary path—I moved to California for two years to engage in full-time volunteer work with Youth With A Mission. Those transformative years ignited a profound desire within me: the commitment to help others receive the care they need. However, I did not begin college until a year after moving back to South Carolina. Since I am a first-generation college student, independent, and I come from a low-income family, affording necessities and the bills of life directly affected my grades and time I could be devout to classes. July 2022, the summer before I was meant to attend a four year college as a full time student, I experienced Sudden Hearing Loss. That’s when I developed a communication disorder—an unexpected twist that reshaped my trajectory. Navigating this new disability while carrying existing financial burdens has been a formidable challenge. Before, juggling two jobs and college posed no issue, but now, finding employment that accommodates both safety and effective communication feels like an uphill battle. Last fall marked a significant milestone—I completed my first semester as a full-time student. It wasn’t easy. I stumbled, made mistakes, and learned to adapt. Thankfully, my university’s disability services department provided crucial support. Through Skype meetings, a transcriber captured lecture content in real time—a resource I didn’t have during my community college days. Still, the financial burdens persist. The struggle intensified, lack of adequate employment led to food scarcity and eviction notices. As a non-traditional student with a disability, I carry the weight of uncertainty. Yet, I draw strength from the stories of resilience—the ones that echo, “I overcame despite my disability” and “I, too, faced that challenge and emerged stronger.” Thankfully, professors, department leads, and peers rallied around me. Their encouragement and care ensured I had groceries and the necessary resources to continue my education. Achieving graduation and a master's degree is crucial for me because it positions me to uplift others, turning their dreams into reality, just as others have done for me. Carol B. Warren’s legacy now intertwines with mine. Her inspiring story fans the spark within me, urging me onward. I aspire to be a woman who, despite facing adversity, looks to the examples of those who preceded me and succeeded regardless. Completing my college education and graduate school will help me reach that goal. This is why I have persisted as a student and am determined to complete my graduate studies. The challenges I encounter, from the tough diagnosis to personal and financial hardships, are interlaced into a tapestry of inspiration, woven alongside other's victories. Every tale of victory deeply inspires me, driving me towards greater achievements. If I were honored with the “You Are Loved” scholarship, it would alleviate the financial strain caused by recent hardships. More than that, it would propel me toward a future where I, too, leave a legacy—a legacy of resilience, compassion, and unwavering belief.