As the firstborn daughter of Haitian immigrants, there is no such thing as having a mental illness. I am expected to pray all of my problems away and put complete faith and trust into God. While I've seen it be of use many times, prayer and patience aren’t always enough to get the results I deeply want to see. It has always been up to me to find a way to receive the care I need without making my family believe I am weak and ill. Working on my mental health journey shows me that I am not alone in this fight, and there are many others like me pushing to do the same. Although Psychology is considered as an art in many institutions, I am pursuing my undergraduate Bachelor's of Science degree in Psychology at Howard University. When choosing which university I wanted to attend, I took into consideration which schools believed that psychology is a science, too. Because of its direct technical and scientific achievements, as well as its indirect contributions to science and technology teaching and learning, I am fully convinced that psychology is a fundamental STEM study. It applies the empirical method in many, if not most, research that is conducted on the intensive studies of the mind. The scientific validity of any activity is established by its technique of study, not by what it investigates, when the research was conducted, or who conducted the research.  Empiricism stresses accurate and reliable measurement, and psychologists' results may be said to as scientific to the extent that they utilize empirical data. With only 3.8% of Neuropsychologists and 5% of Clinical Neuropsychologists in the United States being Black or African American, I feel strongly about pursuing neuropsychology to add to the representation that our community lacks. I want to do my part in eliminating the unmentionables that surround mental health within my community and allow Black voices to be believed and cared for with no judgment from outsiders. Black people deserve the opportunity to be treated by those who will take the time to listen and understand them and feel a sense of security that they often have to go without. By doing my part in diversifying the field of this career path, I will be able to create a safe space for Black patients because our cries for help, in all instances, have been ignored for far too long. I intend on receiving a Master’s degree in neuroscience, and a PsyD in neuropsychology, working in research concentrating on athletics. With the immense impact of head trauma and other neurological injuries on athletes and civilians, those affected by these instances are alarmingly underrepresented, despite the severity often leading to life-altering disabilities. I can only hope that the path that I am taking will not only please those I care about but myself and everyone who needs my support. Representation in the mental health field is more important now than it ever has been and I want to proudly say that I am a part of the change that is to come.

As the firstborn daughter of Haitian immigrants, there is no such thing as having a mental illness. I am expected to pray all of my problems away and put complete faith and trust into our Lord and Savior. While I've seen it be of use many times, prayer and patience aren’t always enough to get the results I deeply want to see. It has always been up to me to find a way to receive the care I need without making my family believe I am weak and ill. Working on my mental health journey shows me that I am not alone in this fight, and there are many others like me pushing to do the same. Almost a quarter of Black Americans lack health coverage so they tend to go to emergency or primary care specialists who lack the necessary experience in diagnosing mental and behavioral health disorders. I wanted to work in healthcare for this very reason; Black people will have an abundance of options in regards to who will be able to properly treat them. There won’t be the option to pick from the scraps mental health care workers who inadequately attempt to give the needed help. With only 3.8% of Neuropsychologists and 5% of Clinical Neuropsychologists in the United States being Black or African American, I feel strongly about pursuing neuropsychology to add to the representation that our community lacks. I want to do my part in eliminating the unmentionables that surround mental health within my community and allow Black voices to be believed and cared for with no judgment from outsiders. Black people deserve the opportunity to be treated by those who will take the time to listen and understand them and feel a sense of security that they often have to go without. By doing my part in diversifying the field of this career path, I will be able to create a safe space for Black patients because our cries for help, in all instances, have been ignored for far too long. I chose to pursue my undergraduate education at an HBCU because I wanted to be surrounded by those who grew up in the same instances that I did. As a Black woman in today's political climate, it is has been my priority--now more than ever--to uplift my community and remind them that anything is possible as long as you have faith in yourself and those who support you. HBCUs are a safe space for Black people in the sense that they provide education that is just as phenomenal as any other institution while allowing students to feel at home with people who look just like them. After completing my Bachelor’s program at Howard, I intend on receiving a Master’s degree in neuroscience, and a Doctoral degree in neuropsychology, working in research concentrating on athletics. With the immense impact of head trauma and other neurological injuries on athletes and civilians, those affected by these instances are alarmingly underrepresented, despite the severity often leading to life-altering disabilities. I can only hope that the path that I am taking will not only please those I care about but myself and everyone who needs my support. Representation in the mental health field is more important now than it ever has been and I want to proudly say that I am a part of the change that is to come.

Having patience and utilizing that skill is essential to living a peaceful life that not only holds respect for yourself but those around you. Patience enables people to analyze situations without jumping to conclusions and not taking into account all perspectives. It is best to take your time to determine all aspects of what frustrates me instead of reacting to the first negative emotion that takes over me. Preserving strong mental health has always been important and being patient has taught me that nothing is ever truly worth frustrating myself for, especially if the situation is out of my control. If I am running late to reach my destination, I remind myself that it is for a reason and to be patient with myself because I will get there one way or another. Bettering myself does not always have to be mental either. It is known that patience can reduce stress levels and leave people at less risk of illness that stems from stress and anxiety. I am a strong advocate in doing to others as you would have them do unto you. Learning to properly identify my attitude and what makes me feel that way is a key to building patience with myself and others. It allows me to regulate my feelings and further empathize with those who may be going through similar instances as I. It is most important to be patient with those who do not understand what they do, like toddlers or the mentally impaired. Every day is an opportunity for those who need to learn and those who need to teach. Practicing mindfulness and expressing gratitude for every waking moment teaches me to not take anything in my life for granted and to accept my path to a more satisfying and successful future.

Dr. Monique Mendes, a Jamaican first-generation McNair Scholar, became the first Black woman to receive her PhD at the University of Rochester in 2019. As unbelievable as that may seem, it is encouraging to know that anything can be accomplished once you put your mind towards it. Her dedication and effort to push as far as she can in her career field shows that I am just as capable of doing the same, if not more, in order to pursue my dream of becoming a Clinical Neuropsychologist. This is not only motivational for myself, but for so many Black girls and boys to be more aware of the accomplishments being in STEM can provide.

In an ideal world, Black people would not have to go the extra mile to prove that they're in need of mental health assistance. We would not need to exploit our traumas and imperfect life experiences in order to be taken seriously. We would be seen, heard, and appreciated through all of our hardships and accomplishments, regardless of how minor or extreme. Acknowledging that there is a setback in one's mental health is never easy, and the community you've grown up in should not make receiving proper care any less accessible. In order to see this future, for myself and for others, it requires more Black representation in the mental health field. Cultural competence is a key factor to promote and advocate for mental health care. Non-Black professionals are open to helping Black people, but not every one of them is able to empathize with their patients. Increasing federal funding for the training of non-Black and BIPOC mental health workers would assist to reduce barriers and encourage more people of color to seek mental and behavioral health treatment when necessary. Mental health care would need to be affordable for every Black person, regardless of their household income or the resources they've been exposed to. Nearly a quarter of Black Americans lack health coverage so they tend to go to emergency or primary care specialists who lack the necessary experience in diagnosing mental and behavioral health disorders. With more affordable healthcare, Black people will have an abundance of options in regards to who will be able to properly treat them. Black people won’t be left to pick from the scraps mental health care workers that are inadequately attempting to give the help that is needed. As much as it is important to educate non-Black people on Black mental health, it is equally as important to educate the Black community on what goes on within our own homes. There is a multitude of stigmas that can affect a Black person’s mental health like racism, police brutality, and sexual assault. Being aware of these generational anathemas versus sweeping them under the rug will open the door for households where tragedies aren’t seen as taboo and can be explored in order to heal and overcome these misfortunes. As someone who has struggled with her own mental health awareness, I understand what it's like to want help but have no means of how to go about getting it. I wanted to take it upon myself to choose to pursue my undergraduate studies in Psychology, concentrating on neurological aspects that stem from traumas and one's environment. Working on my own mental health journey shows me that I am not alone in this fight, and there are many others like me pushing to do the same. With only 3.8% of Neuropsychologists and 5% of Clinical Neuropsychologists in the United States being Black or African American, I feel strongly about pursuing neuropsychology to add to the representation that our community lacks. I want to do my part in eliminating the unmentionables that surround mental health within my community and allow Black voices to be believed and cared for with no judgment from outsiders. Black people deserve the opportunity to be treated by those who will take the time to listen and understand them and feel a sense of security that they often have to go without. By doing my part in diversifying the field of this career path, I will be able to create a safe space for Black patients because our cries for help, in any and all instances, have been ignored for far too long.

The pitch-black room is daunting. The black shadow behind the sun follows the petrified child. The black silhouette of the monster under one’s bed, ever so unsettling. The black night, the black sky, and the Black me. Whether I am a word, a myth, or a person—Blackness has never been comfortable. To many, I was not born as a human. I am the unnerving feeling of being trapped in complete darkness, the innocent cry of fear, the squeak of leather as her hand clutches her purse. If I could remember the first sound I had ever heard, it would not be my own pitiful wail, but the habitual sound of a car door lock, again, one more time, just to be safe. They have never been comfortable, and neither have I. Though by the end of my freshman year of high school, I had realized that I could no longer remain the object of “hold mommy’s hand.” I was only fourteen when I had asked myself if my heart and mind could withstand another “yo, what’s good, sis?” That year, I attended a predominantly white private school in the Financial District of Manhattan, NY. It was my first time receiving a private education, and I was optimistic, but not naive. The ever-growing shadows of doubt tore at my skin like sharp nails on thousands of white hands, trying to scratch away my color, my very identity. A young Black girl on a scholarship in a room filled with an overwhelming population of bright white faces, with their sharp teeth bared and ready to feast from their parents’ wallets. Would I meet new people? Would they like me? Would they look like me? And the most bothersome question of all: would I make a difference, or would I just become the face of diversity in a brochure? I wanted, and continue to want nothing more than to change the world, but I realized that I did not need to face such challenges to do that. I was not brought into this world to fight battles I did not ask to fight. I refuse to be the “struggling” Black woman, the token “strong” Black woman, the Black woman who cannot cry or show signs of weakness. I refuse to be uncomfortable. At an HBCU, I knew I would have such a choice to be comfortable, to live at least a portion of my life without fear of being seen as a scary story. A place where I do not have to fake a smile until my gums bleed, where my hardships are not fetishized by peers, a place where I can cry. At Howard University, I entered a realm where I found my greatest responsibility was to uplift my community and to serve as a reminder that to surround yourself with those who can truly understand you is an unparalleled experience. I found that the institution and its students had not only provided me with a safe space but a home. After completing my Bachelor’s program at Howard, I intend on receiving a Master’s degree in neuroscience, and a Doctoral degree in neuropsychology, working in research concentrating on athletics. With the immense impact of head trauma and other neurological injuries on athletes and civilians, those affected by these instances are alarmingly underrepresented, despite the severity often leading to life-altering disabilities. With only 3.8% of Neuropsychologists and 5% of Clinical Neuropsychologists in the United States being Black or African American, I feel strongly about pursuing this career path to add to the representation that our community lacks. I want to do my part in eliminating the taboos that surround mental health within my community for several reasons. I want to be able to provide black people the opportunity to be treated by someone who looks like them, where they won't be overlooked but instead feel a sense of security that black patients often have to go without. By doing my part in diversifying the field of neuropsychology, I will be able to create a safe space for Black patients because our cries for help, in any and all instances, have been ignored for far too long.