Breathing Life into Care: My Vision for Healthcare I plan to improve the lives of others by becoming a nurse who not only treats illness but also empowers patients and families through education, empathy, and advocacy. My journey into healthcare began with a simple moment - translating a discharge summary for a Spanish-speaking family. Their gratitude showed me how powerful clear communication can be, especially for those navigating complex medical conditions. That moment sparked a deeper commitment: to make healthcare more accessible, especially for patients with lung disease and rare diagnoses who often feel overlooked or misunderstood. As a nursing student, I’ve learned that these patients face unique challenges. Lung disease can be invisible until it’s urgent, and rare conditions often come with uncertainty, stigma, or delayed diagnoses. These individuals need more than clinical expertise, they need someone who listens, explains, and advocates. I envision creating bilingual, visual tools that explain respiratory treatments, medication safety, and symptom tracking in ways that feel empowering rather than overwhelming. I’ve already designed themed pain scales and coloring pages for pediatric patients, and I plan to expand these into culturally sensitive resources for adults and families managing chronic lung conditions. I also want to be a bridge between science and humanity. By staying current with research and adapting evidence-based practices into patient-friendly formats, I can help families understand their options and feel confident in their care. Whether it’s explaining pulmonary rehab to a teenager with cystic fibrosis or helping a grandmother with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis manage her oxygen therapy, I’ll bring empathy, clarity, and creativity to every interaction. Living with my grandmother has taught me the importance of patience, cultural sensitivity, and emotional presence - qualities I bring into every clinical setting. I’ve seen how fear and confusion can be reduced with a kind voice, a visual aid, or a well-timed analogy. I want to be the nurse who offers those moments of clarity, especially for patients whose conditions are rare, misunderstood, or emotionally overwhelming. Ultimately, I see healthcare as a chain reaction, each moment of understanding leads to better decisions, better outcomes, and better lives. My role is to spark those moments, especially for those whose conditions are complex or invisible. Through nursing, I’ll help people breathe easier - not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. I believe that every breath matters, every story deserves to be heard, and every patient, no matter how rare their condition, deserves to feel seen, supported, and safe.

I grew up in a low-income household where creativity wasn’t a luxury—it was a survival tool. I can recount the numerous times we were about to become homeless. My grandmother and aunts, who raised me with strength and grace, taught me how to make something out of nothing. Whether it was repurposing old furniture or turning a quiet moment into a story, they showed me that resourcefulness is a form of art. That lesson has shaped everything I do—from painting murals in school to designing digital planners that blend fandom and emotional wellness. As a first-generation Latina student, I’ve faced the weight of financial insecurity head-on. I’ve watched my family stretch every dollar, and I’ve learned to advocate for myself—researching scholarships, negotiating with financial aid offices, and comparing loan APRs in order to be a pro. But beyond the numbers, growing up low-income has taught me empathy. It’s why I became a Certified Nursing Assistant, supporting patients in vulnerable moments. It’s why I want to become a nurse who serves bilingual and underserved communities. And it’s why I use art and technology to uplift others. In middle and high school, I helped paint murals that honored Native American heritage and student identity. These weren’t just art projects—they were acts of storytelling and healing. Later, I began designing digital products through Canva, creating fandom-inspired planners and templates that make studying feel cozy and affirming. I’ve also built a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey, hoping to demystify healthcare for other first-generation students. These creative outlets are more than hobbies—they’re bridges between my passions and my purpose. Volunteering has always been part of my life. I’ve organized food drives, joined town clean-ups, and walked through my community promoting healthy choices like avoiding smoking and drinking. These experiences weren’t tied to formal organizations—they were grassroots, peer-led, and deeply personal. They taught me that impact doesn’t require a title—it requires heart. My goal is to blend art, advocacy, and healthcare to foster healing and empowerment. I want to mentor future nursing students, create culturally relevant educational tools, and use design to make wellness more accessible. Receiving the Pereira Art & Technology Scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of tuition—it would affirm that my story, my creativity, and my drive matter. I’m proud of where I come from. My low-income background didn’t limit me—it gave me grit, vision, and a deep sense of purpose. I’m ready to keep building, creating, and serving—with art in one hand and compassion in the other.

Growing up, art wasn’t just a hobby—it was my lifeline and identity. In a home shaped by resilience and quiet strength, my grandmother showed me that creativity could be both a refuge and a subtle form of resistance. Where others found comfort in tradition, I made sense of life through color palettes, fandom edits, and the soft glow of a screen—building worlds that were expressive, safe, and uniquely mine. My earliest artistic outlet was anime. I’d spend hours customizing cozy digital scenes, blending K-pop aesthetics with nursing motifs and elements of my own story. It was about making things feel like me. That instinct evolved into a passion for digital design, where I now explore templates, planners, and fandom-inspired products through Canva, with the goal of one day turning them into a sustainable side income. But my connection to the arts didn’t start digitally. In middle school, I helped paint a mural on the side of our school building to honor Native American heritage. It was the first time I saw art as a tool for storytelling and respect—something that could live in public space and speak for those who came before us. Later, in high school, I joined my teacher in painting murals inside her classroom, transforming blank walls into vibrant reflections of student identity and shared hope. Those projects weren’t recognized by any academy, but they were deeply meaningful. They taught me that art could be collaborative, healing, and rooted in community. The person who truly inspired me to pursue my craft was my grandmother. She didn’t teach me Photoshop or video editing, but she taught me grace, grit, and the power of showing up. When I doubted my voice or felt invisible, she reminded me that creativity is a form of advocacy. Her unwavering belief in me gave me the courage to share my nursing journey on YouTube, blending education with storytelling to help other first-gen students feel seen. Arts education gave me more than skills—it empowered my identity. It taught me how to communicate beyond words, connect across cultures, and heal instability by creating beauty. Whether I’m designing nursing study planners or editing anime reaction videos, I’m not just making things—I’m claiming agency through art. Now, as a nursing student navigating clinical prep and financial hurdles, I carry my artistic identity with pride. It’s in the way I advocate for patients, design educational content, and dream of mentoring future students through creative outreach. I don’t fit the mold of a traditional artist, but I believe that’s exactly why my story matters. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my education—it would validate the unconventional path I’ve taken to blend art, empathy, and advocacy. I’m ready to keep creating, keep caring, and keep proving that artistry isn’t confined to studios or stages—it lives wherever passion meets purpose.

“You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” — Marcus Aurelius, Meditations Marcus Aurelius’s words are deceptively simple, yet they carry a profound truth about human resilience. In this brief passage, he draws a sharp boundary between what we can control—our thoughts, reactions, and mindset—and what we cannot: the chaos of the external world. The underlying meaning is not just philosophical; it’s deeply practical. Aurelius is urging us to reclaim our agency in a world that often feels overwhelming. This idea resonates with me personally. As someone who endured years of emotional upheaval—moving between cities, families, and therapists after my father’s imprisonment and a custody battle—I lived in a mental fog for much of my youth. I couldn’t control the instability around me, but I eventually learned to shape my inner world. Like Aurelius, I discovered that strength isn’t found in changing circumstances—it’s found in changing how we respond to them. The phrase “you have power over your mind” is a radical act of self-empowerment. It suggests that even in the darkest moments, we are not powerless. We can choose how to interpret pain, how to frame our story, and how to move forward. Aurelius doesn’t promise that life will be easy—he promises that clarity and strength are possible if we stop trying to control the uncontrollable. This passage also challenges modern assumptions about success and happiness. In a culture obsessed with external achievement, Aurelius reminds us that true strength is internal. It’s not about avoiding hardship—it’s about facing it with composure and purpose. His words invite us to shift our focus from reaction to reflection, from chaos to calm. As a nursing student, I’ve seen this philosophy come to life in clinical settings. Patients often face terrifying diagnoses, unpredictable outcomes, and long recoveries. I’ve watched some spiral into despair, while others—despite pain and uncertainty—find peace by focusing on what they can control: their attitude, their breathing, their gratitude. The difference isn’t in their prognosis—it’s in their mindset. Aurelius’s insight helps me support patients not just physically, but emotionally. It reminds me that healing isn’t just about medicine—it’s about meaning. Stoicism, the philosophy Aurelius practiced, teaches that virtue and wisdom come from mastering our inner world. It’s not about suppressing emotion—it’s about understanding it. That’s something I’ve had to learn, too. I used to think strength meant pretending I wasn’t hurt. Now I know it means acknowledging pain without letting it define me. It means showing up for others even when I’m tired, and choosing compassion over control. In today’s world—where social media amplifies comparison, where burnout is rampant, and where uncertainty feels constant—this passage is more relevant than ever. It’s easy to feel helpless. But Aurelius reminds us that our mind is our sanctuary. We can’t stop the storm, but we can anchor ourselves in clarity. This mindset has helped me navigate nursing school, financial stress, and personal healing. It’s helped me advocate for myself when systems failed me, and stay grounded when life felt unfair. It’s why I want to become a nurse—not just to treat illness, but to help others find strength in themselves. Ultimately, Aurelius’s message is a call to courage. Not the loud kind, but the quiet kind—the kind that shows up every day, chooses grace over fear, and finds strength not in control, but in acceptance. That’s the kind of nurse I hope to be. That’s the kind of person I’m becoming. Even now, when I face setbacks—whether it’s a financial aid delay, a clinical challenge, or the uncertainty of car repairs—I return to this passage. It reminds me that I don’t need to control every outcome to feel grounded. I just need to control my mindset. That’s what gives me the strength to keep showing up, even when the path ahead feels unclear. This philosophy doesn’t just shape how I handle adversity—it shapes how I care for others. As a future nurse, I’ll be walking into rooms where patients feel powerless, scared, and overwhelmed. I want to be the kind of caregiver who helps them reclaim their inner strength. Not by fixing everything, but by helping them see what they still have control over: their breath, their voice, their dignity. That’s what Marcus Aurelius teaches me—not just how to survive, but how to serve. In a way, this quote is more than a piece of ancient wisdom. It’s a compass. It’s helped me navigate grief, rebuild trust, and find purpose in the chaos. And as I move forward—through nursing school, clinicals, and into the world of healthcare—I’ll carry it with me. Because strength isn’t loud. It’s quiet, steady, and rooted in the mind. And that’s the kind of strength I hope to embody every day.

Growing up in a multigenerational home, I learned that healing isn’t just clinical—it’s cultural, emotional, and communal. As a first-generation Latina nursing student, I’ve seen how mental health care often feels out of reach for BIPOC families. Between cost barriers, stigma, and language gaps, too many suffer in silence. I want to change that. My contribution begins with education and empathy. I’ve worked as a CNA, supporting patients through vulnerable moments, and I’m now pursuing my nursing degree to serve underserved communities. But healing goes beyond the hospital. That’s why I create bilingual digital content—YouTube videos, Canva templates, and cozy anime-inspired visuals—to make mental health conversations feel safe, relatable, and stigma-free. I envision launching a free online resource hub tailored to young BIPOC students, blending mental health tips, self-care guides, and culturally affirming visuals. Think: printable planners with affirmations, animated explainers on anxiety, and community spotlights that celebrate resilience. I’d also host local workshops in Hood River, partnering with schools and clinics to offer low-cost support and creative coping tools. Mental health care should be as accessible as a playlist or a podcast. Through art, tech, and heart, I’m building bridges—so no one has to heal alone.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that cybersecurity isn’t just about firewalls—it’s about protecting people. As a first-generation Latina nursing student, I’ve seen how vulnerable communities are often left out of digital safety conversations. I want to change that. My goal is to create bilingual workshops in Hood River that teach families how to protect their personal data, recognize scams, and safeguard their medical information. Many of the patients I’ve worked with—especially Spanish-speaking elders—don’t know how to spot phishing emails or secure their online health portals. I want to bridge that gap with empathy and clarity. I also run a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey and tech tips for students. I plan to expand it with cybersecurity basics for young people—especially those navigating financial aid, job applications, and online learning. If we don’t teach digital safety early, we risk leaving the most vulnerable behind. Cybersecurity is a form of care. And I want to be part of the movement that makes it accessible, inclusive, and community-driven.

I didn’t have a typical childhood. When my dad was imprisoned and my mom—who was practically a stranger—fought for full custody, my world fractured. I went into hiding, dropped out of school, and moved between cities, families, and identities. From fifth grade through high school, I lived in a mental fog—sometimes chaos, sometimes silence, but always survival. Therapists became a revolving door. I was prescribed antidepressants before I understood what depression even was. I felt like I was watching my life from the outside, trying to make sense of a world that had opened too early and too harshly. My understanding of relationships, safety, and trust was shaped by instability. I learned to be cautious, quiet, and self-reliant traits that helped me survive, but made connection difficult. But through my lowest points, I found something unexpected: storytelling. I began telling myself a story of a stronger me—a future where I was safe, educated, and free. That story became my lifeline. It helped me graduate high school, pursue nursing, and begin healing the inner child and teenager who never got to feel secure. Now, as a nursing student, I’m building a life that feels like mine. I’ve worked as a CNA, caring for patients who, like me, carry invisible wounds. I’ve connected with Spanish-speaking residents who finally felt heard. I’ve earned the trust of patients who were afraid of nurses and aides. I’ve seen how mental health affects not just the individual, but every relationship around them. My experience with mental health has shaped my goals profoundly. I want to become a nurse who doesn’t just treat symptoms, but sees the whole person. I want to serve underserved and bilingual communities, where stigma and silence often prevent people from seeking help. I want to advocate for trauma-informed care and create spaces where patients feel safe to speak. It’s also shaped my relationships. I’m still learning how to build and maintain them. Trust doesn’t come easily, and vulnerability feels risky. But I’m trying—slowly, intentionally. I’ve learned to be patient with myself and others. I’ve learned that healing isn’t linear, and that showing up, even imperfectly, is a form of love. Most of all, my understanding of the world has deepened. I see how trauma hides in plain sight. I see how systems fail those who need the most support. I see how stigma keeps people silent. And I believe that by sharing our stories, we can change that. Receiving the Ethel Hayes Destigmatization of Mental Health Scholarship would help me continue my education and amplify my voice. I want to be part of the movement that brings mental health out of the shadows—especially for young people who feel like they’re living in a mental hell with no way out. I want to show them that healing is possible, and that their story isn’t over.

If I could create a new Love Island challenge, it would be called “HeartSync: The Emotional Playlist Challenge.” Inspired by my love for K-pop, anime, and cozy vibes, this challenge dives into emotional connection through music, storytelling, and vulnerability—because real love isn’t just chemistry, it’s rhythm. Challenge Setup: The villa transforms into a dreamy music lounge: soft lighting, plush seating, and floating LED lyrics. Each couple receives a curated playlist of emotional songs—ranging from romantic ballads to breakup anthems. But here’s the twist: the songs are anonymous, submitted secretly by other Islanders based on what they think each couple is going through. Round 1: “Guess Who Sent It” Couples listen to each track and guess which Islander submitted it. They must explain why—was it shade, support, or insight? This sparks reflection and reveals how others perceive their relationship. Round 2: “Rewrite the Verse” Each couple chooses one song and rewrites a verse to reflect their real feelings. Whether it’s “I’m scared to fall for you” or “You make me feel safe,” they perform it karaoke-style in front of the group. Vulnerability earns points, not vocal talent. Round 3: “HeartSync Moment” Couples sit back-to-back and answer emotional prompts synced to music. Example: 🎵 “What’s one thing you haven’t told your partner yet?” 🎵 “What lyric best describes your love story?” They reveal answers simultaneously, and if they match, the villa lights up in their couple color. Why It Works: This challenge blends emotional depth with playful drama. It’s not just about romance—it’s about communication, perception, and growth. It gives quieter couples a chance to shine and lets the audience see who’s really in sync. Why It Feels Like Me: I’m a nursing student who’s worked with patients who couldn’t express themselves—whether due to language barriers, trauma, or distrust. I’ve learned that connection isn’t always verbal. Sometimes it’s in the rhythm of how someone moves, the tone of their voice, or the silence between words. This challenge reflects that truth. As someone who loves cozy aesthetics, fandom storytelling, and emotional honesty, “HeartSync” is my dream Love Island moment. It’s a reminder that love isn’t just sparks—it’s resonance.

I’m continuing my nursing education because I believe that advanced knowledge is the key to deeper impact. As a first-generation Latina student raised by my grandmother, I’ve seen how language barriers and cultural disconnects can make healthcare feel inaccessible. I want to change that—not just by becoming a nurse, but by becoming a nurse who leads, advocates, and uplifts. My inspiration comes from the patients I’ve cared for as a Certified Nursing Assistant. One was a blind and obese resident who distrusted nurses and aides. But she trusted me. She let me guide her, bathe her, and reassure her. Another was a half-paralyzed man prone to seizures due to a head tumor. Many staff members struggled to connect with him, but I learned his rhythms and stayed calm during his episodes. I didn’t just care for him—I understood him. I’ve also worked with Spanish-speaking patients who finally felt heard when I was assigned to them. They could express their pain, their emotions, and their needs clearly—something they couldn’t do with English-speaking staff. I saw the relief in their eyes, the dignity that returned. That’s the kind of nurse I want to be: someone who bridges gaps, builds trust, and brings comfort through understanding. That’s why I’m pursuing my RN and BSN. I’ve already completed my associate degree in general studies to qualify for nursing school, and now I’m navigating rigorous coursework and clinical prep with determination. My goal is to specialize in community health and bilingual care, serving patients who often feel unseen in the system. I want to work in clinics, schools, and outreach programs that prioritize empathy and equity. Beyond clinical work, I’m passionate about mentorship and education. I run a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey, study tips, and encouragement for other students. I also design digital products; planners, templates, and cozy anime-inspired scenes—that reflect my love for organization and creativity. These outlets help me connect with others and remind me that healing isn’t just clinical—it’s emotional and cultural, too. Dashanna K. McNeil’s legacy inspires me deeply. She pursued multiple degrees, served across states, and founded an institute to train future CNAs. I want to follow in her footsteps by mentoring future nurses, hosting bilingual health fairs, and creating digital content that demystifies healthcare for young people. I want to be a nurse who not only treats illness but uplifts communities. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to continue my education with less financial strain and more focus on my clinical training and outreach work. It’s not just support—it’s a vote of confidence in my ability to make a difference. I’m proud to be a woman in healthcare, and I’m ready to reflect Dashanna’s legacy with compassion, ambition, and purpose.

Bravery isn’t loud—it’s quiet persistence. It’s showing up when you’re exhausted, advocating when you’re unsure, and believing in your future when the odds say otherwise. As a first-generation Latina nursing student, I’ve faced adversity in many forms—financial, emotional, and physical—but I’ve never let it stop me. I was raised by my grandmother, a woman of quiet strength who taught me that care is a language of love. When she struggled with health issues, I became her caregiver and translator, helping her navigate a system that often overlooked her needs. That experience planted the seed for my nursing career. I saw how language barriers and cultural disconnects could make patients feel invisible—and I knew I wanted to change that. But the path hasn’t been easy. I’ve worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant while completing my associate degree and now pursuing my RN and BSN. I’ve faced financial aid gaps, long commutes, and the challenge of balancing rigorous coursework with limited income. I couldn’t work full-time because of my clinical schedule, so I learned to stretch every dollar, advocate for scholarships, and research every loan and incentive available. I’ve become my own financial strategist—because giving up was never an option. The adversity I’ve faced isn’t just logistical—it’s deeply personal. I’ve cared for patients who mirrored my own fears and doubts. One was an obese and blind resident who distrusted nurses and aides. But she trusted me. She let me guide her, bathe her, and reassure her. Another was a half-paralyzed man prone to seizures due to a head tumor. Many staff members struggled to connect with him, but I learned his rhythms and stayed calm during his episodes. I didn’t just care for him—I understood him. I’ve also worked with Spanish-speaking patients who finally felt heard when I was assigned to them. They could express their pain, their emotions, and their needs clearly—something they couldn’t do with English-speaking staff. I saw the relief in their eyes, the dignity that returned. That’s the kind of nurse I want to be: someone who bridges gaps, builds trust, and brings comfort through understanding. Outside of clinical work, I channel my resilience into creativity. I run a YouTube channel sharing my nursing journey, study tips, and encouragement for other students. I also design digital products—planners, templates, and cozy anime-inspired scenes—that reflect my love for fandom and organization. These outlets help me connect with others and remind me that healing isn’t just clinical—it’s emotional and cultural, too. Receiving the Audra Dominguez “Be Brave” Scholarship would allow me to continue my journey with less financial strain and more focus on my clinical training and outreach. I’m proud to be a woman in healthcare, and I’m ready to reflect Audra’s legacy with compassion, ambition, and quiet bravery.

I didn’t choose nursing—it chose me. Growing up in a multigenerational Mexican-American household, I witnessed firsthand how language barriers and cultural disconnects can make healthcare feel distant and intimidating. My grandmother, who raised me with strength and grace, often struggled to communicate her needs during medical visits. I became her translator, her advocate, and eventually, her caregiver. That’s when I realized: nursing isn’t just about medicine; it’s about trust, understanding, and presence. Now, as a full-time undergraduate nursing student, I’m pursuing my RN and BSN with the goal of serving underserved and bilingual communities. I’ve already completed my associate degree in general studies to qualify for this program, and I’m navigating rigorous coursework and clinical prep with determination. But my vision goes far beyond graduation. I want to be the kind of nurse who makes patients feel seen. As a Certified Nursing Assistant, I’ve worked with patients who taught me what true care means. One resident was obese and blind, deeply distrustful of aides, nurses, and even medical equipment. But she trusted me. She let me guide her, bathe her, and reassure her. That trust wasn’t automatic—it was earned through consistency, empathy, and respect. Another patient was half-paralyzed and prone to seizures due to a head tumor. Many staff members struggled to connect with him, but I learned his rhythms and stayed calm during his episodes. I didn’t just care for him—I understood him. I’ve also worked with Spanish-speaking patients who finally felt heard when I was assigned to them. They could express their pain, their fears, and their emotions clearly—something they couldn’t do with English-speaking staff. I saw the relief in their eyes, the way their posture changed, the dignity that returned. That’s the kind of nurse I want to be: someone who bridges gaps, builds trust, and brings comfort through understanding. Outside of clinical work, I channel my passion into creativity. I run a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey, study tips, and encouragement for other students. I also design digital products—planners, templates, and cozy anime-inspired scenes—that reflect my love for fandom and organization. These outlets help me connect with others and remind me that healing isn’t just clinical—it’s emotional and cultural, too. Sheila A. Burke’s legacy inspires me deeply. She was a force for positivity and growth in nursing education, and I want to carry that torch forward. I envision hosting bilingual health fairs, mentoring future nurses, and creating digital content that demystifies healthcare for young people. I want to be a nurse who not only treats illness but uplifts communities. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my clinical training and outreach work. It’s not just financial support—it’s a vote of confidence in my ability to make a difference. I’m proud to be a woman in healthcare, and I’m ready to reflect Sheila’s legacy with compassion, ambition, and impact.

I didn’t grow up surrounded by nurses—I grew up becoming one. From the moment I helped care for my grandmother after her surgeries, I felt the pull toward healing. Her strength, grace, and quiet resilience shaped my earliest understanding of what it means to care for someone not just physically, but emotionally. That’s when I realized: nursing isn’t just a profession—it’s a calling. As a first-generation Mexican-American student, I’ve had to navigate college without a roadmap. I earned my associate degree in general studies to qualify for nursing school, and now I’m pursuing my RN and BSN full-time. The journey hasn’t been easy. I’ve balanced clinical prep, financial aid gaps, and long commutes—all while staying focused on my dream of becoming a nurse who serves underserved and bilingual communities. Working as a Certified Nursing Assistant gave me a front-row seat to the power of compassion. I’ve cared for patients in their most vulnerable moments—each one teaching me something profound. I remember working with a resident who was obese and blind, someone who had built up deep distrust toward aides, nurses, and even medical equipment. But she trusted me. She let me care for her, guide her, and reassure her. That trust wasn’t given—it was earned through patience, respect, and consistency. It reminded me that healing starts with feeling safe. Another patient I’ll never forget was a man who was half-paralyzed and prone to seizures due to a head tumor. His condition made communication difficult, and many staff members struggled to connect with him. But I learned his rhythms, his cues, and his fears. I stayed calm during his seizures, advocated for his comfort, and made sure he felt human—not just like a diagnosis. I’ve also worked with Spanish-speaking patients who finally felt heard when I was assigned to them. They could express their needs, their pain, and their emotions clearly—something they couldn’t do with English-speaking staff. I saw the relief in their eyes, the shift in their posture, the way their dignity returned. That’s the kind of nurse I want to be: someone who bridges gaps, builds trust, and brings comfort through understanding. Outside of nursing, I find joy and purpose in creativity. I run a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey, study tips, and encouragement for other students. It’s a space where I blend education with authenticity, helping others feel less alone in their struggles. I also design digital products—planners, templates, and cozy anime-inspired scenes—that reflect my love for fandom and organization. These creative outlets give me balance and remind me that healing isn’t just clinical—it’s emotional and cultural, too. I’m passionate about making healthcare more accessible and human. I envision hosting bilingual health fairs, mentoring future nurses, and creating digital content that demystifies medical care for young people. I want to be a bridge between communities and care—especially for those who feel unseen in the system. Receiving the MJ Strength in Care Scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my clinical training and community outreach. It’s not just financial support—it’s a vote of confidence in my ability to make a difference. I’m proud to be a woman in healthcare, and I’m ready to carry Mary Jane Beck’s legacy forward with strength, compassion, and purpose.

I chose healthcare because I’ve seen what it means to be cared for, and what it means to go without it. Growing up in Hood River, Oregon, I watched and aided my grandmother navigate long drives and language barriers just to access basic medical care. Her strength and grace inspired me to become a nurse who not only treats illness, but advocates for dignity, equity, and understanding. As a first-generation Mexican-American college student, I carry the hopes of my family with me into every classroom and clinical rotation. My parents and grandparents came to this country with limited resources but limitless determination. Their sacrifices fuel my ambition and remind me that education is not just a personal achievement—it’s a way to uplift my community. I earned my associate degree in general studies to qualify for nursing school and am now pursuing my RN and BSN with two more years ahead. Along the way, I’ve worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant, providing hands-on care to patients in their most vulnerable moments. I’ve assisted with daily tasks, monitored vital signs, and offered emotional support when families couldn’t be present. That experience taught me that compassion is just as vital as clinical skill—and that representation matters. I’ve comforted patients who speak only Spanish, helping them feel seen and safe in a system that often overlooks them. Being a woman in healthcare means navigating a field where leadership and visibility haven’t always been accessible to us. But it also means bringing unique strengths; empathy, resilience, and cultural insight—that transform patient care. I hope to use my voice and experience to advocate for underserved populations, especially in bilingual and rural communities. I envision hosting health fairs, mentoring future nursing students, and creating digital content that demystifies healthcare for young people. I also run a YouTube channel where I share my nursing journey, offer study tips, and connect with others facing similar challenges. It’s a space where I blend education with encouragement, helping others believe in their potential even when the path feels overwhelming. Receiving the Women in Healthcare Scholarship would ease the financial strain of nursing school and allow me to focus more fully on my clinical training and community impact. It’s not just an investment in my education; it’s an investment in the patients I’ll serve, the families I’ll support, and the systems I’ll help improve. I’m proud to be a woman in healthcare. I’m ready to lead with heart, serve with purpose, and make a difference where it’s needed most.

Being a first-generation Mexican-American college student means carrying the weight of my family’s sacrifices while forging a path they never had the chance to walk. It means honoring my roots, embracing my identity, and using education as a tool to uplift not only myself, but my community. My passion for becoming a college graduate is deeply personal—it’s woven into every late-night study session, every clinical shift, and every moment I spend advocating for my future. I was raised in Hood River, Oregon, by my grandmother, whose quiet strength and resilience shaped my values. My dad, aunts and mi abuelita came to this country with limited resources but limitless determination. They worked long hours in physically demanding jobs, often sacrificing their own dreams so that I could pursue mine. Their stories of perseverance fuel my ambition and remind me that education is not just a privilege—it’s a responsibility. As a nursing student, I’ve faced the challenges that come with being first-generation: navigating financial aid systems, balancing rigorous coursework with limited income, and learning to advocate for myself in spaces where few people look like me. I’ve worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant, providing hands-on care to patients in their most vulnerable moments. That experience taught me the power of compassion and the importance of representation in healthcare. I’ve held the hands of patients who speak only Spanish, comforting them not just with words, but with cultural understanding. I’ve seen how trust is built when patients feel seen—and I want to be the kind of nurse who offers that trust every day. Being first-generation also means being the translator, the researcher, the problem-solver. I’ve learned to be resourceful—comparing clinical gear specs to stretch my budget, researching scholarships to fill financial gaps, and sharing my journey through a YouTube channel that helps other students navigate nursing school. I’m not just pursuing a degree; I’m building a roadmap for others like me. The legacy of José Melendez resonates deeply with me. Like him, my family believes in the transformative power of education, even if they didn’t have the chance to pursue it themselves. This scholarship represents more than financial support—it’s a tribute to families who dream big, work hard, and never stop believing in their children. I’m passionate about being a first-generation Mexican-American college graduate because it means rewriting the narrative. It means proving that our stories matter, that our voices belong in every classroom, clinic, and leadership role. It means showing my family that their sacrifices were not in vain—and that their legacy lives on in every patient I care for, every exam I pass, and every milestone I reach. Thank you for considering my application. I’m proud to carry this mission forward—with compassion, grit, and purpose.

Growing up in Hood River, Oregon, I learned early that healthcare isn’t just about medicine; it’s about presence, trust, and advocacy. My grandmother, who raised me, often relied on community clinics and long drives to access care. Watching her navigate those systems with quiet strength inspired me to become the kind of nurse who not only treats illness, but uplifts lives. As a first-generation Latina student, I’ve faced my share of challenges. I completed my associate degree in general studies to qualify for nursing school, and I’m now pursuing my RN and BSN with two more years ahead. Balancing rigorous coursework, financial aid gaps, and limited transportation while living on a tight budget has taught me to be resourceful and persistent. I research every scholarship, compare clinical gear specs to stretch my budget, and advocate for myself with lenders and school administrators. These experiences haven’t just shaped me; they’ve prepared me to be a nurse who listens deeply, solves problems creatively, and never gives up on her patients. My decision to pursue nursing was also deeply influenced by my work as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA). In that role, I’ve cared for patients in some of their most vulnerable moments; assisting with daily tasks, monitoring vital signs, and offering emotional support when families couldn’t be present. CNA work is physically demanding and emotionally intense, but it’s also where I learned the true meaning of compassion. I’ve held hands during end-of-life care, advocated for patients who couldn’t speak for themselves, and witnessed how small acts of kindness can transform someone’s day. That experience solidified my commitment to nursing and gave me the confidence to pursue higher education in the field. I’m proud to be building a life that blends academic ambition with community impact. I run a YouTube channel that documents my nursing journey and shares tips for navigating school and clinical prep. It’s a space where I connect with others who are struggling, striving, and dreaming—just like me. Receiving the Rose Browne Memorial Scholarship would be more than financial support; it would be a tribute to the legacy of a woman who balanced motherhood, work, and education with grace. I see myself in that story. I may not be a mother yet, but I carry the same drive to build a better future for myself and those I serve. Thank you for considering my application. I’m ready to carry this mission forward—with compassion, grit, and purpose.

I didn’t choose nursing on a whim—it chose me through every moment I showed up for others when it mattered most. As a first-generation Latina student living in Hood River, OR, I’ve seen firsthand how access to compassionate, culturally aware healthcare can change lives. My grandmother, who raised me with strength and grace, often relied on community clinics and long hours of travel to receive care. Watching her navigate those systems with resilience inspired me to become the kind of nurse who not only treats symptoms, but uplifts people. I earned my associate degree in general studies to qualify for my current nursing program, and I’m now working toward my bachelor’s degree with two more years ahead. The journey hasn’t been easy; balancing clinical prep, tuition costs, and transportation while living on a tight budget, but I’ve learned to be resourceful. I compare gear specs to stretch every dollar, advocate for myself with financial aid offices, and even run a YouTube channel to share my nursing journey and support others in similar situations. These experiences have shaped me into a future nurse who’s not just academically prepared, but emotionally grounded and community driven. My goal is to become a nurse who serves underserved populations, especially in rural and bilingual communities like mine. I want to bridge gaps in care by offering empathy, education, and advocacy. Whether it’s helping a patient understand their diagnosis in Spanish, guiding families through treatment options, or simply being a comforting presence during vulnerable moments—I want to be the nurse who makes people feel seen and safe. Beyond the hospital, I hope to contribute through outreach and education. I envision hosting health fairs, mentoring future nursing students, and creating digital content that demystifies healthcare for young people. I believe that knowledge is power, and I want to empower others to take charge of their health, especially those who’ve been historically overlooked. This scholarship would ease the financial strain of nursing school and allow me to focus more fully on my clinical training and community impact. It’s not just an investment in my education; it’s an investment in the patients I’ll serve, the families I’ll support, and the systems I’ll help improve. Nursing is more than a career to me; it’s a calling to serve, to heal, and to advocate. I’m ready to carry that calling into every exam room, every rotation, and every conversation. Thank you for considering my story.

From the moment I stepped onto a soccer field in elementary school, I knew I was part of something powerful. Soccer wasn’t just a sport; it was a family tradition. I come from a long line of local and state champions, and growing up, our weekends revolved around tournaments, practices, and cheering each other on from the sidelines. That legacy shaped me into a “You Got It Girl”—someone who shows up, pushes through, and never backs down from a challenge. I played soccer all the way through high school, starting as a scrappy midfielder and eventually becoming a team captain. I wasn’t always the most naturally gifted player, but I was the most determined. I trained in the rain, stayed late after practice, and studied game footage to improve my strategy. My coaches knew they could count on me to rally the team, stay focused under pressure, and lead with heart. That mindset didn’t just stay on the field; it carried into my academic and personal life. One of my biggest setbacks came during my first year of nursing school. After completing my associate degree and transferring into a rigorous program, I was hit with unexpected financial aid gaps. Tuition, clinical gear, and transportation costs piled up fast. I felt overwhelmed—but I didn’t quit. I researched scholarships, negotiated with financial aid offices, and advocated for myself every step of the way. I learned how to stretch every dollar, compare stethoscope specs like a pro, and even launched a YouTube channel to share my journey and earn side income. That experience didn’t just make me stronger—it made me unstoppable. I deeply admire my grandmother, who raised me with quiet strength and unwavering love. She immigrated to the U.S. with nothing but hope and grit, and she’s the reason I believe in showing up even when it’s hard. Her resilience inspires me to pursue nursing with compassion and purpose, especially for underserved communities. This scholarship would be a game-changer. It would help me afford clinical gear, cover travel costs for rotations, and ease the financial strain that often distracts from my studies. I’m not just building a career—I’m building a future where I can give back, mentor others, and advocate for equity in healthcare. As a student-athlete, I understand the power of consistency, teamwork, and grit. Soccer taught me how to lead, how to recover from setbacks, and how to keep going when the odds are stacked against me. Whether I’m on the field or in a hospital, I bring that same drive and heart to everything I do. Thank you for considering my story. I’m proud to be a “You Got It Girl”—and I’m ready to keep proving it, one goal, one exam, and one patient at a time.