Did you know that there are over one hundred ways to cook an egg? You can bake them, parboil them so that the inside is runny, or whip them up until they're frothy and make a soufflé. Growing up, I only knew about three ways: hard-boiled like how my Tita makes it, scrambled like how my Tia Berta makes it, and the delicious ones Tio Beto makes that are fried in oil where the edges brown and the inside is still soft and squishy, "Demasiado aceite, Beto. (Too much oil, Beto)." Tita would say. And for a long time back in my Panamá home, these were the only ways to prepare eggs. When I first moved to Texas, I remember going to a restaurant named Denny's and ordering a Grand Slam with sunny-side-up eggs. They looked close enough to the eggs my Tio Beto made, but when I was served my platter it looked weird. "Tita, por qué está crudo? (Tita, why is it raw?)" "Eso es el estilo americano. (That's the American style)." And so began my journey of learning new ways eggs were prepared, and even trying to cook the new styles. I remember going to public school and eating their trays of breakfast before school, the scrambled eggs were never the same as my Tia Berta made them; they barely even tasted like eggs. It felt like how I tried to speak to my teachers and classmates in Spanish, and they would respond in (usually weird and forced) English. Even though I initially didn't like the eggs, I adjusted and still gulped them down. It helped that the cafeteria ladies were also Latina, they were even the first friends I made! Getting through middle school was difficult but not impossible, and then the real challenge came when I got into high school. Suddenly every teacher is talking about SATs, AP courses, community colleges (doesn't every college have community?) versus universities. The language barrier suddenly reappeared even though I was eating the weird eggs. Especially when talking about college. Surprisingly, though, I was really good at reading and writing in English, just not speaking it. This still holds true; my college applications were a breeze, just not explaining my college goals. Just like when I try to make the American sunny-side-up eggs from Denny's. I slur over my words like when I accidentally pop the yolk of the otherwise perfect sunny-side-up egg, my words slurring into one long, discouraging stream of yolk. It was especially difficult to translate the big English words for my Tita, more so when talking about loans or FAFSA. "El gobierno te paga? (The government pays you?)" "Sí, Tita. (Yes, Tita)." The college coursework isn't the worst part, but it's like comparing a perfect oval hardboiled egg to the ones that crack when boiling: I'll still eat it, even though it's more difficult to peel. Connecting my experience to my grandma's or my mom's, who never went or never completed their college journeys, was difficult. Who can I vent to that will understand my experience, where I'm coming from? I don't know how to say that I like talking in broken Spanish more than my almost-perfect English, or that the scrambled eggs are NEVER the same no matter how assimilated I am into this culture. I love my grandma's hard-boiled eggs, and my aunt's scrambled ones (they're better!), and uncle's way of frying them until it gets nice and crispy along the edges. But instead of dwelling on the differences of eggs, maybe I can use my knowledge to make some good progress here.

When I was growing up, volunteering was not something that I cared for. My family is from Panama, and while we were able to live in the United States, we were not comfortable financially. I was always doing some type of work: chores around the house, caring for my elderly family in the house, and since the age of 15, I have been working at whatever establishment would hire me. I was raised to constantly work, either for money or for my family. When I started attending high school, I got more involved with after-school clubs on my days off of work and learned about volunteering from classmates and club sponsors. At first, I was skeptical: why would I work if it wasn't going to help me or my family directly? I could be working for money instead, why would I waste my time working for free? I reluctantly volunteered with some friends for an after-school event hosted by one of the clubs I was in, and for the first time in a long time, I felt motivated and happy to be helping others. We were volunteering for a local fair on school grounds, and helping families with younger children or classmates with their parents brought me so much joy and confidence. I would later in my life come to realize that volunteering is a soul-fulfilling opportunity for me, and I continue to volunteer even today. Right now I get involved around my city as much as possible by volunteering at different conventions in my city, locally connecting with organizers and artists, and working towards hosting more workshops to teach proactive skills. In June I hosted a journaling workshop, where I shared my personal experiences journaling and taught the skills to maintain a journal for any purpose. In September I will be hosting a panel about consent, from private settings to general public settings and how to appropriately ask others for permission effectively. I love working with and for my local community, and the vision I have for my community involves interconnectedness, supporting one another and collective healing. Community to me includes everyone, especially with the constant barrage of negativity surrounding everyone’s lives through political discourse, illness, climate change, and other issues, it is critical to connect with other folks and find safe spaces amongst the crowd. Volunteering has made me more open and reflective of the sensitive support that has kept me afloat and is my part in giving back to make an impact on others in my community, regardless of identity or background. I have never lived comfortably in the financial dimension of well-being, and for most of my upbringing while it wasn't preferable it was still manageable. Now that I am pursuing a degree and living on one federal minimum income, however, I will soon be unable to afford to further my education. I have been passionate about helping others since high school, and my social work major reflects this. My classes have given me motivation through very hard times, like when I lost my mom and was homeless immediately after, or when I was outed by my family about my queer sexuality and identity. Learning about the changes and opportunities I would be able to grant others who have experienced adverse life events like myself keeps me going through the hardships I continue to face. Without continuing my degree plan, not only would it impede my future success, but my current life purpose will be stripped from me indefinitely. This scholarship will give me a chance to keep my passion alive and thrive in the future.

It’s always been difficult for LGBTQIA+ folks to express their authentic selves in everyday society; safety is not always certain and the looming threat of backlash or abuse is ever present. This has made my personal story of coming out even more difficult: being outed by my Latine Catholic family left me scared and confused, and caused me to repress how I felt for years. Only in recent years have I felt more comfortable living with a queer identity thanks to the homophobia and transphobia-free community I have built around me. I only felt this queer joy after suffering so much, however, and it shatters me to see the same cycle repeat with other queer kids. I wish to see the LGBTQIA+ community in my environment and everywhere else experience this same joy and safety with us: I hope to see queer kids wear makeup and proudly pin different pride flag designs on their backpacks without the threat of harm from family or their unaccepting community, I want to watch drag performances in open environments without the fear of being observed and reported to a hateful following. I want myself and my community to be able to bind, fix our hair differently, or even wear different clothing items without the immediate comments from our families with roots built on homophobia and transphobia. With each passing week, however, it seems that my hopes of a happier future for LGBTQIA+ members fade farther away. More anti-queer legislation continues to get passed, laws and regulations that will cause more hateful environments to grow and beat down on queer folx, leaving us vulnerable and miserable without aid. I’m sick of seeing my community continue taking the abuse, and I’ve been sick of it for years. And when people get sick of the abusive cycle of hatred, they work together and uplift each other to make a change: since 2017, I have found a community I could rely on and have been driven to address and make a difference in how the LGBTQIA+ community is viewed and treated. Educating myself and others, creating a safe space for other queer folx, and working in a profession where I can further advocate and support my community are goals I have set for myself to direct attention to the social issue of homophobia/transphobia. Since high school, I have dedicated myself to staying up-to-date on current events and news that relate to LGBTQIA+ matters on both sides of the spectrum: from Greg Abbott, Governor of Texas, banning all-age drag performances to the country of Nepal legalizing same-sex marriage, staying recent in queer news has been my top priority for years. This education translates to power, which I utilize to advocate for our rights and protections on my social media platforms. Sharing news articles and openly speaking about current news are all ways I can advocate for those around me. When I’m hosting events or with others in public, I focus on making sure that I can create a safe space for other queer folx, which encourages others to feel more secure in an unknown space. Finally, I am applying for positions where I can further discuss queer issues and how to address them, as well as feel fulfilled. I don't want the LGBTQIA+ community to just be tolerated from a distance, or accepted "as long as it's not in others’ faces," queer folx deserve to feel comfortable in their skin regardless of location or people surrounding them at any age, sexuality, gender, race, ethnicity, or any other background. We’re human, too.