I’ve never been the fastest, but I’ve always been the one who finishes. I learned that during my first mile time trial for cross country. I was dying after the second lap. Gasping between breaths, I yelled, “I can’t!” to the coach. My bones felt like they would snap, my lungs burned, and my vision blurred. But somehow, I kept going. That day, I realized cross country is about more than running; it’s about how strong your mind is when your body wants to quit. And maybe that’s what made me fall in love with it. I joined the team the second week of my sophomore year, just six months after moving from Ecuador. I had no idea there was summer training, and I was even more behind than the freshmen. I showed up the day before a meet. After my time trial, the coach handed me a uniform and said, “See you in the gym after school.” I didn’t know the course had sand, hills, or rocks. But I showed up, I ran, and I finished. Since then, I’ve run Cross Country and Spring Track every year. I’ve earned NJIC honorable mention twice, Junior and Senior year. I even tried Winter Track, but nothing in sunny Guayaquil prepared me for New Jersey’s cold. Outdoor practices gave me constant headaches, so I traded my spikes for goggles and joined the swim team. Long-distance keeps finding me. I swam the 200m and 500m during junior and senior year, races that taught me to stay calm when I couldn’t feel the ground beneath me. By senior year, I was named the Most Improved Girls Swimmer, not because I was the fastest but because I kept pushing. I chase that feeling of pushing through in every mile, every lap, and every classroom. I’m part of my school’s Early College Program, earning both a high school diploma and an associate’s degree. Balancing college and high school has meant writing essays after meets, studying while my teammates sleep, and choosing growth over comfort. But before sports taught me the strength of the mind, volunteering taught me the strength of the heart. The summer before sophomore year, I worked as a YMCA camp counselor, helping kids feel safe, heard, and loved. I painted tiles for the CT Scan Room at Hackensack Meridian Hospital through the Summer Arts Program, hoping to ease the fear of children facing hard moments. I raise awareness for survivors of dating abuse through the PowerBack Team, and I serve as Secretary of Student Government and President of the Hispanic Honor Society. I’m also a proud member of the National and Italian Honor Societies, and I earned the Seal of Biliteracy in both Spanish and Italian. Still, I’ve never called myself a student-athlete. I've never been the smartest, the fastest, or the best. But I’ve come to understand that being a student-athlete isn’t about the trophies or titles. It’s about balance. It’s about showing up. Whether I’m three miles into a race, soaked after swim practice, or finishing an essay at midnight, I keep going. After high school, I plan to major in Journalism, with minors in History and Languages. I want to tell stories like mine, ones that start with “I can’t,” but end with “I did.” Stories about showing up, falling behind, pushing through, and crossing the finish line anyway. Because what I’ve learned on the track, in the pool, and in my life is that success doesn’t mean never wanting to give up. It just means you keep going anyway. And that’s exactly what I plan to do.

"Hay que trabajar duro, nosotras más que nadie." That's what my mom told me as we put our folded clothes in the drawers of her friend's guest room, five hours after we landed in Garfield, New Jersey from Guayaquil, Ecuador. I was fifteen, my throat choking on thick-accented words and an awkward smile badly drawn on my face. Growing up in the inner city taught me that I had to do more with less. Garfield High School is full of students with big dreams, but our resources don't match our ambitions. Textbooks are worn. Materials are shared. Opportunities are fought for. I’ve seen brilliant students give up because they felt unsupported. There’s an unspoken expectation that we should settle for the bare minimum. But I am not what my last name says. I never conform to anything. Since arriving here, I’ve balanced more than most people realize. I take college classes while still in high school through the Early College Program, where I’ll graduate with both a diploma and an associate’s degree. I serve as Secretary in Student Government, as President of the Hispanic Honor Society, and as an advocate in the PowerBack Team, which supports survivors of dating abuse. I’m also a year-round varsity athlete and a volunteer at the YMCA and Hackensack Hospital’s Summer Arts Program. I say this not to impress, but to reflect the grit it takes to thrive in a system that often overlooks students like me. Insecurity doesn't ask for permission. It lingers in late-night study sessions and early mornings, translating documents for my mom. Still, I keep going. Not because I’m fearless, but because I’m willing to fight. What drives me is storytelling. I found my passion at age eight, sitting beside my grandfather at 5:30 in the morning, watching the news. In Ecuador, the news is raw and unfiltered, full of stories that children shouldn’t hear, yet I watched, mesmerized. Despite the risks and challenges, those journalists spoke up for the voiceless. That inspired me. I want to uncover stories that live in silence: the overlooked, the forgotten, the invisible. I'm also deeply passionate about history and languages. Understanding where we come from helps us understand where we’re going. That’s why I plan to minor in both. Earning the Seal of Biliteracy in Spanish and now pursuing it in Italian isn’t just academic, it’s personal. Language is a bridge between worlds, and I plan to keep building it. What fuels me is the memory of the girl who arrived here scared and uncertain, with her life packed into two suitcases. What motivates me is the woman I strive to become: bold, educated, and unapologetically outspoken. And what grounds me is knowing that many students like me never get the chance to chase their dreams because of financial barriers. This scholarship would relieve that burden. It would give me the freedom to focus on learning instead of surviving.. I want to show that a girl from Guayaquil, who once believed her future was written in stone, can rewrite her path with courage, effort, and hope. Ten years ago, I thought my destiny had already been decided for me because of circumstances she didn’t choose. When I was younger, I truly believed dreams like mine weren’t made for people like me. But now I know better. I know that hard work, resilience, and belief in oneself can open doors. I’m not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a chance to prove that my story and the stories I will one day tell will inspire many others And I promise you, they will.

I was born and raised in Ecuador until I was fifteen years old. My city, Guayaquil, also known as "The Pearl of the Pacific", earned its name for its beautiful beaches, rich history, and importance to the country. But that shine has been slowly overshadowed by the growing crime and deep-rooted corruption, making it harder to call it home. My whole life, I was taught to work hard. Harder than everyone else. That was the only way I’d get ahead and build a better future for myself. When I got a scholarship to attend a private school, it felt like all my effort was finally paying off. I was at the top of my class, just two years away from graduating. But when a man on a motorbike shattered my mom’s car window with a hammer at a red light as we drove home from the mall, we knew we couldn’t stay any longer. Safety was no longer a guarantee, but more a privilege. As a first-generation immigrant, I’ve always known the odds weren’t built in my favor, but I never let that stop me. I carry expectations that grow heavier each year, both daunting and sacred. My parents never had the chance to finish college. Now, I’m graduating with both my high school diploma and an associate’s degree through my school’s Early College Program. I’ve immersed myself in the opportunities I’ve been given: I proudly serve as the secretary for Student Government, as president for the Hispanic Honor Society, and I'm a part of the National Honor Society and Italian Honor Society. Through the PowerBack Program, I’ve advocated for young victims of abusive relationships. I’ve also worked to give back to the community that helped me grow, volunteering as a Camp Counselor at the YMCA and painting tiles for the CT Scan Room at Hackensack Meridian Hospital, offering comfort to the scared children who pass through its doors. I knew I wanted to become a journalist since age 8. I still remember the early-morning news theme song and the brave news reporters who told stories about murder and corruption in a country where going against the flow can be a death sentence. would like to be the type of journalist who listens and writes with empathy. Being someone who understands what it is to be underestimated, I would want others to be seen. I think words can connect, create, and heal, and I would want to utilize mine to create new possibilities for those who have to fight to deserve their right to be a human being in other people's eyes. My family has done everything they can, and I've worked hard to deserve every chance. My family has given everything they could, and I’ve worked tirelessly to earn every opportunity. But even with all that, the cost of college still feels like a wall I’m trying to climb with bare hands. Being awarded this scholarship would mean more than financial relief; it would be a sign that someone believes in me, in my future, and in the stories I want to tell. It would give me the freedom to keep going with my goals, and allow me to give a voice to the silenced, and to show girls like me that we are not defined by where we start, but by how fiercely we choose to keep going.