Mental illness has deeply shaped my family and how I see the world. One of the clearest examples was through my father. As a Haitian man who emigrated to America, he bore the heavy responsibility of leaving his home, starting over, and providing for family both here and in Haiti. That pressure surfaced in withdrawal, sleepless nights, and grueling shifts to care for the people he loved. In our culture, mental health wasn’t acknowledged, let alone treated. Like so many others, my father carried his burdens in silence. Understanding my father’s struggles was painful and eye-opening. It forced me to confront how mental health issues in immigrant and BIPOC families are often treated as solitary battles. My Haitian heritage is a source of pride; it taught me resilience. But it also frames mental illness as weakness rather than a valid health issue. Reconciling these cultural views with my father’s and my own experiences has been an ongoing journey. These experiences also shaped how I understood my own mental health. Like many students with ambitious goals, I struggled with burnout, anxiety, and self-doubt. Balancing school, cultural expectations, and personal aspirations often felt overwhelming. Depression and anxiety sometimes made it impossible to fully engage with classwork. My self-worth became tied to achievement: How well was I doing? How did my community see me? To falter wasn’t just failing myself—it felt like failing everyone. That fear only deepened the feelings I tried so hard to hide. Watching my family wrestle with their struggles in silence showed me the cost of avoiding mental health. I realized pretending everything was fine wouldn’t help. Reaching out—to friends, family, and professionals—was one of the scariest but most vital steps I could take. Seeking help wasn’t a weakness but a way to value myself and honor my family’s sacrifices. Embracing support taught me how to manage my mental health while staying focused on my goals. The challenges remain, but I now have the tools to cope. One of the hardest but most healing moments for me came when I finally spoke to my uncle about his depression. For years, he’d hidden his struggles out of shame—a shame so heavy that he felt taking his own life might be the only way out. The fear of reaching out kept both of us silent for so long. When we finally talked about it, it was like releasing a breath we didn’t realize we’d been holding. I saw in him what I’d felt in myself: that crushing belief that struggling meant weakness. He couldn’t ignore the trauma he carried, both generational and personal, and neither could I. But in that moment, our connection—our shared understanding—was a step toward healing for both of us. Looking back, mental illness has shaped not just how I see my family but also how I see myself. It’s taught me empathy and resilience. It’s shown me the importance of creating spaces where people, especially those in immigrant or marginalized communities, feel safe to acknowledge their struggles. And it’s motivated me to keep challenging the stigma that holds so many people back. Today, I embrace my journey—not as something perfect, but as a reflection of the strength it’s taken to keep growing, one step at a time.

I was 12 when I realized I wanted to help Haiti’s environment. Previously, I had stayed in my father’s hometown of Port-au-Prince or had been too young to remember the drives to the countryside when we would visit our family in Haiti. I vividly remember a drive to the border, how vast the land was and at the same time so barren. The large mountains were so cracked and dry. The beaches were fenced off so cruise ship visitors could stop by without seeing the locals. I didn’t see anyone playing on the beach, I saw people going fishing or cleaning their hauls. Passing into the Dominican Republic I saw an instant difference, the lush tropical landscape and the vast amount of wildlife. Haiti had always been a place of bright colors, constant noise, and family. The vibrancy of daily life had distracted me from the natural environment and what was lacking. Haiti became a puzzle for me and my goal in going into the biological sciences is to bring Haiti back to the tropical climate first experienced by the Taino people. Initially, Haiti had such ecological diversity that it shocked Columbus and his men. Time passed and Haiti showed her history clearly, from the deforestation to the soil that had been overfarmed. There are many problems Haiti faces, if one checks the news one will be acquainted with the many political and social issues. But what resonated with me is that we cannot enjoy our side of the island. This observation fueled my interest in the conservation and rehabilitation of various habitats. My professors helped me fully understand how intricate every environment is, they advised me when I did studies of Ponderosa Pine microhabitats and encouraged me to meet and connect with the STEM BIPOC community. I’ve always benefited from dedicated teachers and advisors. My mother fostered a love for volunteering and at her work (a non-profit that helped homeless and low-income families), I was raised among people who wanted to help their community and pass on their experiences and advice. My teachers throughout school always encouraged my love of reading and my desire to learn more. They encouraged me to apply for college in the AVID program and encouraged my love of anatomy and botany. Through my role on the Youth Opportunities Advisory Board in the Boulder government I learned about restorative justice, peaceful protest, and the power of a community. Through every part of my life I’ve been supported by my community and in return I’ve strived to help in return. This fall I will be working on cataloguing lichen studies and research to create a standardized collection. I plan to head to graduate school and I will continue to interact with and support my community wherever I will go. I will learn about the details and mechanisms of conservation and apply what I learn to the island of Haiti and the Dominican Republic. Aiding Haitians in healing and conserving their environment

My mother is from Denver, CO, she worked multiple jobs to get through her undergraduate and after graduating she applied to the Peace Corps, where she was placed in Haiti. She arrived in Haiti, barely knowing a word of Kreole and never having left her state. Within three months she could converse in Kreole and she also learned a bit of French. There’s a lot that my mother experienced but I want to focus on how my parents met. She met my father in Port-au-Prince he was quiet but fiercely passionate about protecting his city. He was a police officer and my mother fell in love with his kindness and determination. He showed her around his home town Port-au-Prince and took her out dancing. The casual relationship grew more and more serious. He brought her home to his family and she called hers and told them she was in love. It was a shock on both sides, my mom’s family didn’t quite know what to say but my mom was determined. She loved my father and wanted to marry him. The marriage was small, his family and her host family. They both wore borrowed clothes and the ceremony was quick. They just wanted to marry each other. It was time for my father to meet his wife’s family. He knew a bit of English but would be relying heavily on my mother for translating. It was his first plane ride and America was a lot for him, it was spread out and he was nervous. My grandfather wasn’t happy that his daughter left and got married without her side of the family, and he was wary of my father. I’ve heard everyone’s point of view and I can say my mom was fierce, she was unyielding to questioning or to doubt. She took my father’s hand and said that this was her husband and she would not accept any racism or doubt. The family warily agreed and started to involve my father. The plan was to see the family and then head back to Haiti until my mother realized she was pregnant. Both panicked, children were not planned for a while and they had no homes in either country. I think both sides of my family came together when they saw how panicked my parents were about the arrival of my brother. They found a compromise we would live in America and spend our summers in Haiti. Traveling to another country was immensely transformative for my mother and father. They learned new languages, experienced new cultures, and fell in love. My mother didn’t expect to bring back a husband and my father did not expect he would be marrying an American girl. I’m here because my parents were brave and moved to countries where they were outsiders. It was extremely high risk but the reward was high as well, they raised me and my brother to have a love of travel, whether it be to Haiti or other countries.

I was young when I saw how interconnected humans were a part of nature, and how our actions had an impact on the world around us. The first time I saw how negative and big that impact could be was when I visited my Tati in Haiti. It was my first time leaving Port-au-Prince to see the countryside. However, seeing her land, how it was so barren. She had mango and kenèp trees but the rest of the land was dried, dead grass. The mountains I saw In Haiti weren’t lush, they were cracked and dry. My Haiti was dying and what natural wonders we had left people were working too hard to enjoy it. Haiti became a puzzle for me and my goal in going into the biological sciences is to bring Haiti back to a tropical paradise, or at least on par with the Dominican Republic. So many species of flora and fauna are extinct or endangered in Haiti but flourish in the Dominican Republic. It was a bitter realization, and worse when the 2010 Earthquake happened I came back to a Haiti changed. There were cracks in the street so wide you could fall into them. Orphans lined the streets, many missing limbs and bearing heavy scars. Not only was my Haiti’s natural environment already barren and scarred, but now the capital and other major cities were broken. What hits me is that we cannot enjoy our side of the island. That on an island labeled as a tropical paradise our half is very brown on aerial maps. Haiti needs help in many ways but where I come in is the environment. Since I was able to comprehend careers in general I wanted to fix Haiti. I’m majoring in Organismal Biology, and from ecology to conservation I want to learn how a healthy ecosystem works so I can learn what needs to be done to a broken environment. I’ve learned of keystone species and the interactions between species down to the microbiology level. I’ve learned a lot and I’m still learning. Every day I see myself getting closer to helping Haiti. It’s a massive task, but thanks to my education I can now see how we can get there. The soil is barren and leached but it can be revitalized. Many of the native plants and animals avoid our side of the island, I know of breeding programs in the DR that boost population levels and these animals can be transplanted. There are many steps but I want to get the discussion started. In my lifetime I want to see an island that is well onto its way to the tropical environment it used to be to see Haitians enjoying and interacting with the natural environments around them. I haven’t gone to Haiti in four years, most of my family has left Port-au-Prince or left the country altogether. It’s an awful feeling, to feel helpless about what is happening to my country, and my city. What keeps me going is knowing that my family still has a community around them. A community that helped them after the Earthquake and stop in to check on my tati's diabetes. They were helping my family in ways I couldn't, so I turned to my community. I volunteered at food banks and joined action committees like Boulder's YOAB to give a voice to the BIPOC community. What I'm proud of is I helped others to volunteer and feel a part of the community they lived in, I left behind systems for continual good in my community.

My father met my mother when she moved to Haiti for the Peace Corps, they fell in love throughout her time in Haiti and married in Port-au-Prince. Encouraged by both their job prospects in the United States and wanting to raise my brother and me there, they moved to Colorado. It was hard for my father in Colorado, he didn't speak English and missed his family. Watching my brother grow up and seeing me be born surrounded by my mother's side, he wanted his family to meet us and influence and surround us in love. While one of his sisters was already in Miami he wanted as many of us together as possible. He helped pay for his two older sisters to move to Colorado and invited his mother and father to live with us. Some of our family stayed in Haiti and wanting us to experience his culture my father made sure we often spent summers in Haiti and hosted my many tatis and cousins for the holidays. Quite simply when my father moved to America he missed the connections and community he had back home, so he and my Tati started a Haitian Church for Sunday evenings and advocated for Haitians in our broader community. What I have learned from my father and from my heritage is that when things aren't right you have to step up to change things yourself. You can pull strength from your family and community but in the end, buckling down and creating the future you want is in your own hands. When things are tough you have to keep working because even a little change is still change. My family is here, happy, and we support each other, we share our losses and celebrate our victories, together.