I was 12 when I first made a suicide plan. My sibling, Tor, was only 9. No child should be thinking about ending a life that has barely begun, yet both of us were navigating suicidal ideation rooted in religious trauma. For years, surviving the next day felt like the only measurable success. Looking back, I realize that my understanding of mental health did not begin as something to maintain - it began as something that was already tainted beyond, what I thought, was salvigable. The moment that forced me to reconsider my life came during my second stay in a mental hospital, when Tor called me crying and simply asked me to live. That call reshaped my sense of responsibility - reminding myself that my death wouldn't just be about me, but to the people who love me. I wish I could give Tor a reason to live like they gave me, but each person has to find their own reason to stay. I want to support others not by assuming my answers are the only right ones, but by meeting them where they are, with patience and understanding. My transition to college complicated my relationship with mental health in ways I did not expect. While I began building a new life in Florida, Tor was repeatedly hospitalized back home in Minnesota. At first, each phone call telling me they were back in the hospital overwhelmed me - I would take days off just to process the fear and helplessness. Over time, the calls became less frequent and less detailed, and I found myself adapting in a way that unsettled me. I started to feel the distance not just physically, but emotionally, as if crisis had become routine. This shift forced me to confront an uncomfortable truth I still am grappling with: I cannot always be present for the people I love in the ways I wish I could. I have learned that love is not always expressed through fixing someone’s pain; sometimes it is expressed through consistency, through listening, and through staying connected even when distance makes it difficult. My bond with Tor has become a reminder of that compassion matters in not just in moments of crisis, but in everyday life. Experiencing depression alongside my sibling has also shaped how I understand the world. For a long time, I compared our struggles, believing that because I had begun to manage my depression, Tor should be able to do the same. I am not proud that I once dismissed their pain as attention-seeking. Over time, I have come to recognize how harmful that mindset is. Mental health is not uniform, even among people with similar backgrounds. Each person carries different challenges, and healing is not linear or comparable. This perspective change has influenced both my relationships and my goals. I have learned to approach others with empathy rather than judgment, to pause when I feel myself minimizing someone else’s experience, and to recognize that everyone is fighting a battle I may not fully understand. These lessons have shaped the way I interact with the world as I strive to create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and respected in their struggles. My experiences with mental health have not given me easy answers, but they have given me clarity about who I want to be. I want to be someone who listens without assumption, who supports without judgment, and who wants to get the most out of each day.

Education has always been more than a path to knowledge for me-it has been a lens through which I understand the world and my place in it. From a young age, my curiosity about nature shaped how I saw learning. Simple questions like “Why is water blue?” eventually evolved into more complex ones: “How does the human perspective limit our understanding of the natural world?” I believe that questions shape who we are, and my curiosity about the natural world has driven me to explore evolution, adaptation, and the behavior of marine mammals. This curiosity has guided my academic journey and given me a sense of purpose: I want to pursue a career in marine biology and evolutionary research, ultimately becoming a professor who inspires others to ask questions and explore the world around them. My path has not been without challenges. As a gender non-conforming person, I have had to navigate spaces where assumptions were made about me before I could speak for myself. Adopting my chosen name, Raie, was a pivotal moment in my journey, giving me the confidence to assert my identity in academic and social spaces. This process required resilience, self-reflection, and the ability to advocate for myself, skills I carry into every classroom and laboratory. Education has not only been a tool for knowledge but also a framework for navigating identity, building confidence, and developing the perseverance needed to thrive in STEM. I have sought out experiences that allow me to engage directly with the natural world, combining my curiosity with practical application. Volunteering at Como Zoo has been transformative. Studying marine mammals up close has allowed me to understand anatomy, behavior, and social dynamics in ways that books and lectures cannot provide. For example, I spent hours analyzing a sea lion skull, examining features such as the sagittal crest and tooth wear to understand its life history. Observing animals like Subee and Nico, I learned about hierarchy, communication, and conflict resolution in sea lion colonies, while Medusa and Wally offered lessons in vocalization, movement, and individuality. These experiences reinforced the idea that science is not only about data, it is also about observation, curiosity, and a willingness to ask questions. The lessons I have learned from these animals parallel the human skills necessary to excel in research: patience, attention to detail, and the ability to interpret complex systems. These experiences have also clarified my goals as a future scientist and educator. I hope to become a professor not only to conduct research but to create learning environments where curiosity, diversity, and inclusivity are central. Education has the power to shape perspectives, build empathy, and empower students to explore boldly. I want to mentor students who feel marginalized or uncertain in STEM, helping them see that their unique perspectives are valuable. I want to cultivate classrooms and laboratories where questions are encouraged, mistakes are treated as opportunities for growth, and students feel confident bringing their full selves to the learning process. My identity has shaped how I approach science and teaching. Fully inhabiting my gender non-conforming identity has taught me the importance of diverse perspectives and representation in STEM. Being different has shown me that innovation often comes from asking unconventional questions and challenging assumptions. It has taught me empathy and patience, both essential traits for a professor guiding students through the uncertainty and excitement of scientific exploration. The challenges I have overcome-navigating spaces where my identity was misunderstood, asserting my voice, and advocating for respect-have prepared me to foster similar growth in others. Education has also strengthened my analytical skills and deepened my passion for evolutionary biology. I have spent hours reading about the evolution of cetaceans, particularly the transformation of early ancestors like Pakicetus into modern whales. I have studied how adaptation and cultural transmission shape behavior in species like sperm whales, asking questions about communication, problem-solving, and survival strategies. These investigations have taught me that understanding the natural world requires both careful observation and creative thinking. They have also highlighted the importance of connecting research to real-world conservation efforts, bridging theory and practice. Looking forward, I hope to combine research and teaching to make a meaningful impact. As a professor, I aim to conduct studies on marine mammal behavior, adaptation, and conservation while mentoring the next generation of scientists. I hope to foster inclusive, collaborative research spaces that value curiosity and diverse perspectives. I want to show students that science is not only about memorizing facts but about thinking critically, observing deeply, and daring to ask questions that challenge assumptions. My goal is to cultivate a culture in which students feel empowered to explore boldly, embrace failure as a learning opportunity, and connect their learning to making a positive difference in the world. Ultimately, education has given me direction, purpose, and the tools to overcome challenges. It has taught me that learning is not simply about acquiring knowledge-it is about developing the skills, perspective, and resilience needed to contribute meaningfully to society. My journey, shaped by curiosity, identity, and perseverance, has prepared me to use education as a platform for research, mentorship, and positive change. By pursuing a career as a professor, I hope to inspire others, foster inclusive learning environments, and advance our understanding of the natural world. Education has not only shaped my goals but has given me the confidence to pursue them fully, carrying forward lessons learned from both humans and the animals I study. Raie Rose Hess is more than a name-it is the embodiment of curiosity, perseverance, and growth. Through education, I hope to use my experiences, insights, and passion to create opportunities for discovery, understanding, and empowerment for myself and others.

Since childhood, my curiosity about nature has grown from simple questions like “Why is water blue?” to more complex ones like “How does the human perspective limit our understanding of the natural world?” This curiosity led me to study paleoceanography in the context of conservation, where I explore how species adapt and thrive over generations. My fascination deepened after learning about early cetaceans like Pakicetus and their transformation into modern whales. I began asking questions about communication, culture, and survival strategies in species like sperm whales and sea lions. Volunteering at Como Zoo has allowed me to engage directly with marine mammals, studying anatomy and observing behavior up close. These experiences have shown me that the best understanding comes from hands-on observation, not just books or lectures. Through my education, I hope to combine research and conservation to protect marine mammals and their ecosystems. I want to uncover how evolutionary traits shape species’ interactions with their environments and use that knowledge to inform conservation strategies. Ultimately, I aim to make a meaningful impact by contributing to our understanding of the natural world and helping ensure the survival of the incredible creatures that inspire me.

Since childhood, my curiosity about nature has grown from simple questions like “Why is water blue?” to more complex ones like “How does the human perspective limit our understanding of the natural world?” I’ve come to believe that curiosity shapes who we are. Mine shows up as a constant need to understand how things came to be-whether that’s the evolution of an animal, the history behind an object, or the origin of an idea. Over time, that curiosity has led me to focus on the adaptability and evolution of marine mammals. That same curiosity and drive have shaped who I am outside the classroom, too. I played on my high school varsity softball team for four years and served as a captain for two. Being a captain taught me how to lead in a way that balances accountability with support. I learned how to motivate my teammates, communicate effectively, and step up when it mattered most. It also taught me resilience through how to push through failure, stay disciplined, and keep showing up. Those lessons have carried into my academic life, where I approach challenges with the same persistence and teamwork. My interest in evolutionary biology really took off after learning about how early cetaceans like Pakicetus evolved into modern whales. Since then, I’ve been drawn to big, open-ended questions like whether sperm whales might rival humans in certain forms of communication or cultural complexity. The more I learn, the more I realize how much we don’t know, and that’s what excites me. I’m especially interested in how evolutionary traits shape the way species interact with their environments today. One of the most meaningful ways I’ve explored this interest is through volunteering at Como Zoo. There, I’ve had the chance to engage directly with marine mammal biology. I’ve spent hours studying a sea lion skull used for education, looking at details like tooth wear and the sagittal crest to better understand the animal’s life. Experiences like that have shown me how much you can learn by observing closely and asking the right questions. When I get stuck, I talk with zookeepers, who have helped deepen my understanding and encouraged me to keep exploring. Beyond anatomy, I’ve learned so much just by watching the animals themselves. Observing sea lions interact has given me insight into their social behavior, communication, and personalities in a way that no textbook could. These hands-on experiences have made it clear to me that the best way to understand the natural world is to engage with it directly. This scholarship would help me continue pursuing those kinds of experiences in college. Financial support would allow me to focus more on my education and seek out research opportunities, fieldwork, and internships that are essential for a future in marine biology. It would also ease the financial pressure on my family, making it more possible for me to fully commit to my goals. I hope to build a career in conservation-focused marine science, studying how species like sperm whales and sea lions have adapted and how we can better protect them. The ocean isn’t just something I’m interested in-it’s where I see my future. I want to keep asking questions, pushing my understanding further, and contributing to research that helps preserve these animals and their ecosystems.

Raie, pronounced Ray, is a name essential to my story. It represents my past, present, and future. I don’t believe a name necessarily defines a person, but a chosen or earned name is a story of its own design. Raie became my reality in 8th grade, after I learned more about myself as a gender non-conforming person. I’m grateful for everyone who helped me decide on this name, including my namesake and my parents. Raie symbolizes my journey toward authenticity, a reminder that only I have the power to define who I am. I never had a specific moment when I realized I wasn’t Elizabeth or Lizzy; I simply never saw myself in those names, even after trying to customize them. In 2nd grade, after losing a competition due the short nature of my nickname, I knew what must be done as expanded my nickname from Lizzy to Lizzie. I was so committed to this choice that whenever my family would give me cards addressed to Lizzy, I would remind them that I went by Lizzie, like this tweak was a completely different name. And maybe it was. Lizzie shows my growth and independence at a young age and that’s why I chose to keep it in Raie. After deciding that Lizzie no longer fit me, my parents suggested names, the first one being Ray, after my grandfather. Originally I hated the idea because I thought it wasn’t ‘cool’ enough, but eventually I hesitantly agreed to try it. Just this summer, Raie stopped just being a label for me and I began to truly feel like myself, Raie. My legal name is Elizabeth Rose Hess. Victoria Elizabeth Pleviak was my great grandmother who valued gratitude and love above all else. Rosa Ropers is my grandma who is truly the most compassionate person I have met. These family members are who my parents wanted me to emulate through the name Elizabeth Rose Hess. My family sees names as a way of continuing a story or value, a lesson I grew up on. My chosen name is Raie Rose Hess. Raymond Ropers pushed me to be my best self and taught me that no one else was going to do it for me. Ray taught me to play various card games, from pinochle to poker, using these moments as opportunities for lessons. For example, while I was learning to play pinochle, he taught me the valuable lesson, “Don’t bet everything on maybes.” I had a habit of overbetting my hand because I “almost had something worth points.” He patiently played hand after hand until I grasped his point: “almost” points didn’t get you very far. Ray and I played our last hand together this summer and I have never been more grateful for my parents’ name insight than I am now. Thanks to them, I not only got the privilege to see his smile when I told him I named myself after him, but I get the privilege to live on with his name - each time it’s spoken, I think of him. Raie is more than just a name - it's a connection to my family, my history, and the person I am becoming. It embodies the strength and independence my grandfather always encouraged in me. Along with these traits infused by my grandfather, I’ve crafted my own meaning for it; one rooted in the openness, curiosity, and perseverance that I carry with me. Raie Rose Hess isn’t just a name I chose; it’s the embodiment of my growth, my identity, and the legacy I’m honored to uphold.