My name is Gina, and I’m a first-generation college student currently pursuing my associate degree in Human Services at Hudson Valley Community College. I also work full-time as an Activities Aide at St. Peter’s, where I support seniors—many of whom are in rehabilitation—by creating space for joy, dignity, and connection. Every day, I show up with compassion and purpose, not just because it’s my job, but because it aligns with my mission in life: to make a difference. My roots are humble and strong. My father came to the U.S. from Panama, chasing a dream he couldn’t fully realize. My mother never finished middle school, and college wasn’t something she imagined for herself—or for me. All she wanted was for me to graduate high school and be a little better off than she was. But even as a child, I knew I was meant for more. I knew I was carrying something bigger than myself—my family’s sacrifices, my community’s struggles, and the dreams of my ancestors. I’m in school today because I refuse to let that legacy stop with me. I plan to become a social worker who advocates for children, families, and individuals facing challenges that often go ignored—especially in the areas of mental health, housing instability, and child welfare. I know what it’s like to grow up without access to support, and I know how life-changing it can be when someone actually shows up for you. That’s who I want to be: the one who shows up, the one who listens, and the one who helps people build a life they didn’t think was possible. Beyond my career goals, I want to impact my community in creative and culturally relevant ways. As a queer Black woman, I know the power of representation and healing spaces. I envision creating platforms, safe spaces, and support groups for Black women and LGBTQ+ youth—places where people can feel seen, share their stories, and connect with resources. My heart is especially drawn to storytelling, and I want to use my voice to inspire others who come from struggle, reminding them that where you start doesn’t determine where you can go. Paying down my student loans would give me more than financial relief—it would give me room to breathe, save, and invest in my future. It would allow me to continue my education, pursue my master’s degree in social work, and eventually open my own practice or nonprofit. I want to be in a position where I’m not just surviving, but giving back and building something that lasts. Everything I do is rooted in love, legacy, and liberation. I’m not here to take up space—I’m here to create it. I’m not just going to school to get a job—I’m here to change lives, starting with my own. I want people to look at me and see possibility, especially the young girls who were never expected to make it out of struggle. I am my mother’s hope. My father’s prayer. My ancestors’ wildest dreams.

My name is Gina, and I am a proud, full-time student pursuing my associate degree in Human Services at Hudson Valley Community College. I am also a full-time Activities Aide at St. Peter’s, where I serve seniors—many of whom are in rehabilitation—by helping to enrich their daily lives through engagement and care. It’s a job rooted in compassion, patience, and purpose—three values I try to carry into every room I walk into. But beyond school and work, I carry something much bigger with me every day: legacy. My story begins with my family. My father came to this country from Panama, carrying with him not just dreams of a better life, but also the pressure to make it count. My mother, on the other hand, never got the chance to finish middle school. Life threw her into survival mode early on, and because of that, her expectations for me were simple—just graduate high school. That’s all she wanted for me. To be better than her. College wasn’t something she could imagine for herself, and truthfully, she couldn’t see it for me either. But I could. And I did. Now, here I am—breaking cycles, not just for myself, but for everyone who came before me and everyone who will come after. I am the manifestation of my ancestors’ wildest dreams. I wake up every day motivated by the fact that my education, my work, and my dreams are about more than just me. I come from people who were told “no,” who were told to stay small, stay quiet, stay put. I refuse to accept that for my life. I am doing this not just to make a living, but to make a difference. My goal is to become a social worker who can advocate for families, children, and individuals who feel unseen or unheard. I’ve personally experienced what it feels like to struggle—to feel like no one is listening, to feel like the system is set up for you to fail. I’ve also seen how access to support and understanding can completely change a person’s path. That’s the kind of impact I want to have. I’m especially passionate about housing instability, child welfare, and mental health—areas that hit close to home. I want to be the kind of professional I needed growing up, the kind who doesn’t just hand you a pamphlet, but who sits with you, sees you, and walks beside you. Being a first-generation college student comes with its own set of challenges. I’ve had to learn how to advocate for myself, how to ask questions, how to keep going even when the odds felt stacked against me. And yes, student loans are a big part of that weight. But paying them down would be more than financial relief—it would be freedom. With the money I save by reducing my loan debt, I plan to invest in my future and my community. I want to eventually pursue my master’s in social work—possibly through a private college or a program like 1199SEIU’s Training and Employment Funds. I want to build a cushion, start a business, maybe even launch a nonprofit that uplifts marginalized youth. Every dollar saved gets me closer to those dreams. I’ve also got a heart for storytelling and community building. I want to use my voice—and my journey—to inspire others who feel like college or success isn’t meant for them. I want young Black girls, especially those with immigrant parents or parents who didn’t have access to education, to look at me and say, “If she did it, I can too.”

What makes me different is that I lead with heart before anything else. I don’t need a title, a spotlight, or recognition to show up for people. I show up because I’ve been the person who needed someone—someone to say, “You got this,” or just sit in silence and not judge. I carry that kind of energy into every space I walk into, and I think that’s what makes me stand out. I’ve always believed that you don’t have to know someone personally to impact them deeply. Whether it’s how I carry myself at work, how I treat the seniors I care for, or how I speak truth even when it’s uncomfortable, I know somebody is watching. A coworker, a neighbor, a younger girl trying to figure herself out—they may not say anything, but they’re watching how I keep going even when life gets heavy. I show them, without needing to say much, that it’s possible to live in your truth and still move with grace, love, and purpose. One of those people is my younger friend, who’s in her twenties. She calls me all the time asking for advice, and I always keep it real with her—not to be harsh, but because I know what it’s like to be left to figure everything out by yourself. I lost both of my parents, and from a young age I had no choice but to navigate life on my own. It wasn’t easy, but I carry myself with grace because I know little Black girls are watching me—girls who want more, who want better, and just need to see that it’s possible. That’s why I walk how I walk and speak how I speak—with truth, with care, and with pride in who I am. Because even when I don’t realize it, I’m planting seeds. I’m showing the next young woman that she can overcome, she can rise, and she can be somebody—even when the odds say otherwise. I don’t pretend to have it all figured out. I just try to be real, honest, and consistent. And in a world full of noise, that kind of authenticity is rare—and powerful. If I can inspire just one person to keep going, or to believe in themselves a little more, then I’m doing what I was put here to do and I’ll do it proudly with no regrets or hesitation because it’s important to represent and show up .

As a proud Black lesbian woman, I carry my identity with pride and purpose. Being part of the LGBTQ+ community has taught me how to fight for my place in a world that doesn’t always understand me—and that fight has made me stronger, more compassionate, and more determined to create change. I know what it feels like to go without support, to not see yourself represented, to feel like your voice doesn’t matter. That’s why I show up for others the way I wish someone had shown up for me. I’ve always had a heart for people, especially those who get pushed to the margins. In my personal life, I’m the friend people come to for support, encouragement, or just a safe space to breathe. I’ve mentored younger LGBTQ+ folks, held space for people struggling with identity and mental health, and spoken up even when my voice shook. That’s not just community—it’s responsibility. And I take that seriously. Right now, I’m studying Human Services, and I plan to continue on to get my bachelor’s and master’s in Social Work. I want to become a licensed social worker and eventually open a community center that offers free, holistic resources for those who need them most. I’m talking about real support—free health screenings, mental health counseling, dental services, housing help, school enrollment, legal aid—the whole nine. I want folks, especially LGBTQ+ folks and people of color, to have a place they can go and not feel judged, turned away, or forgotten. A place where they can breathe and be seen. I currently work full-time as an activities aide in a rehab facility, caring for seniors while juggling school. It’s not easy, but I do it because I’m invested in this mission. Receiving a scholarship would mean everything to me—it would help relieve some of the financial stress and give me the space to focus more on my education and long-term goals. I’m funding this dream out of pocket, and like many others, I don’t have a safety net. This support would allow me to keep pushing forward without burning out. I’m not in this work for recognition or a paycheck. I’m in it because I know what it’s like to need help and not know where to turn. I’m working hard to be the kind of social worker and community builder that creates real, lasting change. This scholarship would be more than financial aid—it would be a step toward helping me build something powerful for the next generation.