Sobriety, for me, has never been a quiet or linear process; it has been a rigorous reconstruction of my identity and my voice. At 34, as a music student at Contra Costa College and Laney College, I have learned that the discipline required to master a complex Debussy score is the same discipline required to maintain a life in recovery. Addiction thrives in the dissonant spaces where we feel unseen or unheard. For a long time, the noise of external expectations and the internal struggle of living as a trans woman before my transition led me to seek a numbing silence. Today, my recovery is about turning that silence into a purposeful, lyrical resonance. The challenges I faced through my struggle with addiction were deeply intertwined with my search for authenticity. Navigating the world before legally becoming Illyria Viana Faria felt like performing a role I hadn't auditioned for. Using substances was a way to quiet the dysphoria and the anxiety of living in the margins. It cost me time, clarity, and at points, my sense of purpose. Addiction didn't just affect my health; it fractured my ability to hold a routine, making the simplest tasks of the gig economy feel like insurmountable obstacles. Breaking free from that cycle required more than just "quitting"; it required a total structural overhaul of how I interact with the world. My path forward is built on the foundation of music theory and vocal technique. Recovery gave me back my breath, and now I use that breath as a mezzo and full lyrical soprano. Music provides the "positive steps" I need daily. When I am at the piano or practicing my scales, there is no room for the fog of substance use. The precision required for Roman numeral analysis and the emotional depth needed for performance keep me grounded in the present. My ambition is to complete my degree and prove that it is never too late to pivot toward a life of mastery and sobriety. Moving forward, I am committed to having a tangible impact on my community. I currently apply the focus I’ve gained in recovery to my work as an independent contractor and to supporting my sister’s business, Nanutri. By being an open and sober trans woman in the Bay Area, I hope to show others in the LGBTQ+ community that recovery is a path to reclaiming our power. My goal is to eventually use my musical platform to mentor queer youth who are navigating their own struggles with identity and addiction. I want to show them that our "low points" do not define the height of our crescendo. Financially, staying sober while navigating the high cost of living in Berkeley is a challenge I meet with a "one day at a time" work ethic. Working for Amazon Flex and performing AI testing provides the income, but it is my Summer 2026 coursework that provides the meaning. This scholarship would represent the stability needed to ensure that my focus remains on my craft and my sobriety. Recovery has taught me that we are the architects of our own harmony. I am no longer interested in the silence of addiction; I am here to sing.

Living in a time of unprecedented global prosperity often creates a cruel paradox for those of us struggling with mental health. We are told the world is at our fingertips, yet for someone dealing with the paralyzing weight of depression, anxiety, or the neurodivergent struggle to maintain a simple routine, the world can feel like an unreachable shore. As a 34-year-old trans woman and music student, my journey has been a long process of moving from a place of deep, silent shame to a state of radical, vocal honesty. For years, my understanding of the world was filtered through a lens of perceived failure. I struggled with "invisible" issues: the inability to shift routines, the overwhelming exhaustion that follows a period of high performance, and the executive dysfunction that turns simple tasks into monumental hurdles. I used to believe these were character flaws. However, navigating my identity as Illyria Viana Faria while pursuing a degree in a demanding field like music has taught me a vital truth: the world is not designed for the neurodivergent or the marginalized. Understanding that my struggle is partly a reaction to a rigid, often exclusionary society has shifted my worldview from self-blame to systemic awareness. I no longer see my mental health as a broken compass, but as a different way of navigating a complex landscape. This shift in understanding has radically transformed my relationships. In the past, I would disappear when my mental health plummeted, hiding my "darkness" to avoid being a burden. Today, living in a shared household in Berkeley, I have learned the power of the "chosen family." I have realized that being honest about my capacity—saying "I am at my limit today" or "I need help with this routine"—is an act of trust, not a weakness. My relationships are now built on a foundation of transparency. Whether I am supporting my sister’s branding for Nanutri or coordinating household responsibilities with my housemates, I bring my full self to the table, including the parts that struggle. This openness has created a ripple effect, allowing those around me to also drop their masks. We are learning together that a community is only as strong as its ability to hold its most vulnerable members. In terms of my goals and aspirations, mental health has dictated a unique path. As a mezzo and full lyrical soprano at Contra Costa College and Laney College, I have found that music is the only thing capable of cutting through the mental fog. The rigid structure of music theory and the physical discipline of vocal technique provide the "anchor" I need when my internal world feels chaotic. My aspiration is not just to perform on world-class stages, but to become a visible advocate within the classical music world—an industry that is notoriously perfectionistic and often punishing to those with mental health challenges. I want to show that a career in the arts is possible for people like me, not despite our mental health, but because the depth of our experiences gives our performance a resonance that cannot be faked. My vision for the future is a world where "bringing the darkness to light," as Ethel Hayes’ legacy suggests, is a standard practice rather than a courageous exception. Destigmatizing mental health means more than just talking about it; it means creating financial and social structures that allow people to heal without the fear of falling into poverty. As an independent contractor in the gig economy, I know the anxiety of choosing between a mental health day and paying rent. This scholarship would provide a rare moment of breathing room, allowing me to focus entirely on my Summer 2026 courses and my vocal development. The journey of mental health is not a straight line toward "recovery"; it is a continuous practice of returning to oneself. By pursuing my music and standing firm in my identity, I am proving that even a mind that finds change difficult can lead a life of profound transformation. I am ready to use my voice to ensure that the darkness doesn't just fade—it becomes part of a beautiful, complex harmony.

In my family, cancer is not a distant threat or a rare diagnosis; it is a generational shadow that has profoundly shaped my perspective on time, devotion, and the urgency of living. From a young age, I witnessed the devastating reach of this disease—first through the loss of my grandmother to breast cancer, and later, through the heartbreaking death of my eleven-year-old cousin from brain cancer. However, the experience that fundamentally molded my character and redefined my life’s trajectory was my mother’s six-year battle with the disease. The final two years of my mother’s life were spent entirely bedridden. During this time, I wasn't just a witness to her struggle; I was a primary witness to the fragility of the human body and the immense strength of the human spirit. Caregiving at that level of intensity forces an immediate maturation. It taught me a level of discipline and empathy that no classroom could provide. I learned to find harmony in chaos and to maintain my drive even when the environment felt heavy with grief. This experience stripped away the illusion that time is a guaranteed resource. It taught me that if I have a voice, I must use it now. This realization is what led me, at 34, to pursue my studies as a mezzo and full lyrical soprano at Contra Costa College and Laney College. To some, starting a rigorous music theory and vocal technique program in one's thirties might seem late, but to me, it is the only logical response to a life shaped by cancer. My family history taught me that we do not have the luxury of "waiting for the right time." My ambition is fueled by the memory of those in my family who lost their chance to see their dreams through. Every time I practice a complex Debussy arrangement or refine a technical vocal run, I am honoring the life force that cancer tried to diminish. The impact of these experiences extends into my work ethic and my role within the LGBTQ+ community. As a trans woman who has navigated the complexities of a legal name change to Illyria Viana Faria, I understand that survival is an active, daily choice. The resilience I developed while caring for my mother now powers my life as an independent contractor. Balancing the physical demands of Amazon Flex deliveries with the intellectual demands of my music degree requires the same "show must go on" mentality I adopted during my family's darkest years. Financially, the legacy of cancer is a long one. Years of treatments and the emotional toll of loss often leave families with little to no safety net. Living in the Bay Area and maintaining my vehicles—the 2006 Toyota Sienna and 2015 Toyota Prius that serve as my mobile offices—is a constant financial puzzle. This scholarship would represent more than just tuition; it would be an investment in the "drive" that cancer couldn't break. My mother’s battle taught me that life is a series of movements, and even in the most painful ones, there is beauty to be found. I am determined to use my education to prove that a history of loss can be transformed into a future of artistic and communal contribution. I don’t just want to be a successful student; I want to be a testament to the fact that we are more than the tragedies that touch us.

My voice has always been my most authentic tool for navigation, but for a long time, it lacked the correct name. At 34, my journey as a music student at Contra Costa College and Laney College is not just an academic pursuit; it is a radical reclamation of space. As a mezzo and full lyrical soprano, I am training to master the technical complexities of Debussy and Einaudi, but more importantly, I am training to ensure that my trans identity is heard with clarity and power. To be a student at this stage of my life is a deliberate choice to honor my artistic potential and to build a professional foundation that can withstand the systemic barriers often placed in front of LGBTQ+ individuals. My experience within the LGBTQ+ community is defined by a continuous metamorphosis. A pivotal moment in my life was the recent legal affirmation of my identity through the official name change to Illyria Viana Faria. This wasn't just paperwork; it was a hard-fought battle for institutional recognition and personal dignity. Living in a shared household in Berkeley has taught me the importance of chosen family and the necessity of communal support. Being a trans woman and an immigrant means navigating a world that often tries to silence or misgender my contributions. My music is my response to that—it is a search for harmony in a world that can be dissonant, and a testament to the fact that queer joy is a form of resistance. Giving back to my community is a practice I integrate into my daily life. I believe that support starts at home, which is why I dedicate my skills in multimedia design to help my sister’s business, Nanutri, thrive. By building up queer-owned and family-led initiatives, we strengthen the economic fabric of our community. Looking forward, my goal is to use my musical degree to create inclusive performance spaces and technical mentorship programs specifically for LGBTQ+ youth. I want to be the representation I didn’t always see: a professional soprano who is unapologetically trans, showing the next generation that our stories and our voices are essential to the classical and contemporary musical landscapes. The financial reality of my journey is a constant exercise in resilience. I sustain my education and life in the expensive Bay Area by working as an independent contractor for Amazon Flex, alongside AI testing and design projects. The "gig economy" provides flexibility but lacks the stability required for deep academic immersion. Between managing the upkeep of my 2006 Toyota Sienna and 2015 Toyota Prius—essential tools for my work—and the rising costs of rent and tuition, there is often no safety net. Currently, I am focused on my Summer 2026 courses, but the financial pressure often forces a choice between working an extra delivery shift or practicing my vocal scales. The Star Farm Scholarship is more than just a financial grant; it is the "boost" that would allow me to shift my focus from the exhaustion of delivery routes to the refinement of my craft. It would provide the stability needed to complete my degree and transition into a career where I can give back tenfold. This scholarship recognizes that when LGBTQ+ students are supported, we don't just succeed—we transform the communities around us. My voice is ready; I just need the community support to let it reach its full resonance.

Arriving in the United States as an asylum seeker meant starting from zero. As a first-generation immigrant and the first in my family to attend college, I have spent the last few years navigating a complex system without a roadmap or a safety net. My journey at City College is defined by this reality: I am not just a student, but a pioneer for my family, balancing financial independence with the intense academic demands of my path. Choosing to study music and theatre was a deliberate decision to reclaim my narrative. However, this path has not been easy. Mastering music theory and performance while adapting to a new country is a grueling process that requires immense discipline and mental fortitude. There is no "natural harmony" in my experience; there is only the persistent effort to learn and the grit to overcome the roadblocks of displacement and low-income status. My purpose is grounded in the necessity of representation. I want to use my education to ensure that the stories of asylum seekers and first-generation students are told with authenticity and depth. My ambition is to transition from the classroom to the professional stage, proving that a background of displacement can be a source of strength rather than a limitation. This scholarship will provide the necessary support for me to continue this work, allowing me to focus on my impact as a performer who speaks for a community that is often heard but rarely understood.

How I Relate to Malgorzata’s Challenges When I read about Malgorzata “Maggie” Kwiecien’s life, I felt an immediate resonance. Like her, I left my home country behind in pursuit of a new life in the United States. I arrived from Brazil in 2019 as an asylee, with no support system waiting for me here. It was a leap into the unknown: new language, new culture, new expectations, and no guarantee that I would find stability. I recognize in Maggie’s story the same courage required to step forward into uncertainty and to build a life from the ground up. Maggie was described as physically fearless — a climber, skier, runner, diver. For me, the courage has often been emotional, but no less demanding. I have had to climb mountains of my own: navigating immigration processes, rebuilding my sense of home and safety, and facing the vulnerability of beginning again where I had no family to lean on. I know the feeling of waking up in a foreign country and realizing that if I do not persist, I might lose the very future I am trying to create. Like Maggie, I am intellectually bold. I study music, dance, and the arts with the same determination she gave to engineering. My dream is to become a professional performer, blending opera, Brazilian music, and contemporary performance. I see education not as a passive process but as a field where I am constantly proving to myself what I am capable of. I, too, debate, question, and push boundaries. I want to master my craft, but also to challenge old frameworks and bring my perspective as a trans, international woman into spaces where voices like mine have often been excluded. I also connect to Maggie’s devotion to knowledge and her hunger to become an expert. My chosen field is not STEM, but it requires the same rigor and discipline. To sing professionally is to dedicate hours daily to technical study, body work, and emotional practice. To dance or act is to submit to training that tests endurance and demands persistence. I often think of myself as an engineer of sound and movement, constructing something that is both precise and alive. Maggie’s bravery was not just physical but deeply human: to move alone to a foreign land and still pursue greatness. That is the path I am on. I often feel the weight of being an international student who has to balance financial strain, cultural difference, and self-doubt. Sometimes I long for the safety net that others around me seem to have. But like Maggie, I persist. Ambition is what keeps me going when circumstances feel overwhelming. Where I see myself most like her is in resilience. Maggie faced a devastating illness and continued to fight for life. I face different challenges — systemic barriers, personal loss, and the complexity of living openly as a trans woman — but what we share is a refusal to let those challenges define or diminish us. I want to carry Maggie’s spirit forward by living with the same boldness, the same intellectual fire, and the same determination to carve out a space for myself and for those who will come after me. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my education, but would also honor Maggie’s legacy by ensuring that her courage continues to inspire other women who, like us, left everything behind to build something extraordinary in a new land.

The current music landscape feels like a paradox: both more open than ever, and yet still full of noise. With streaming platforms, anyone can share their voice with the world, which has created an explosion of diversity. We now hear sounds from every corner of the globe, from Afrobeat to K-pop to Brazilian jazz, reaching audiences that might never have encountered them before. At the same time, the overwhelming flood of content means that it is easy for meaningful art to be drowned out by algorithms, trends, and commercial formulas that reward quick attention over depth. In this moment, I believe music needs two things: presence and truth. Presence, because music has to cut through distraction and ground people in an experience that feels alive, not disposable. Truth, because audiences are hungry for voices that carry authenticity — voices that reveal something raw, vulnerable, or transformative. When I listen to artists who embody that, I feel the difference immediately: it is not just sound, but soul. I see myself working within this landscape as both a performer and a connector. I want to bring forward music that holds space for complexity — music that is technically strong, but also emotionally generous. I am drawn to classical training and opera because of its discipline and power, but equally to Brazilian genres like bossa nova and samba, which carry history, intimacy, and cultural memory. I want to weave these traditions together, creating bridges between classical refinement and the improvisational spirit of my heritage. By doing so, I hope to create performances that not only showcase vocal ability, but also tell stories that resonate across borders. I also believe change in music today is not just about the sounds themselves, but about who gets to make them and who gets to be heard. As a trans woman, I know what it feels like to live at the margins of visibility, and I know how rare it is to see someone like me centered on stage in classical or operatic music. Representation matters. When people see someone who reflects them — whether through identity, culture, or lived experience — it opens the door for them to imagine themselves in that space too. My presence in the music world is not only about my voice; it is about creating more room for difference, for fluidity, for those who have not always been invited in. Being impactful, to me, means carrying both excellence and empathy. Excellence, because I want my craft to be undeniable — built on training, discipline, and devotion to the art. Empathy, because I want my performances to move people, to help them feel more deeply, and to leave them more open-hearted than when they arrived. Music has always been more than entertainment; it is a way of shaping culture, of reminding us what it means to be human together. I want my contribution to be one that brings people closer to themselves and to each other. Whether I am on a stage, in a classroom, or collaborating across genres, my goal is the same: to remind us that music is both mirror and bridge — it reflects who we are, and it carries us toward who we can become.

When I imagine my future in the music industry, I see myself as a performer and creator—a singer who uses voice and presence to bridge cultures, emotions, and generations. I aspire not only to interpret music, but to embody it: to make each note an offering of truth, healing, and connection. My goal is to become an artist who inspires others not simply through sound, but through the courage of being fully myself. My path into music did not begin in a family of musicians or in childhood lessons. Growing up, my mother and I would sit together listening to her favorite old songs and the soundtracks of the shows she loved. She wasn’t a singer, and we didn’t play instruments, but in those moments I learned how music holds memory, emotion, and tenderness. The taste she passed down to me became the seed of my own passion. Later, when I began to sing for myself, I discovered a world inside my own voice. That voice became my companion, my safe place, and my way of expressing what words alone could never hold. My role models in music are artists who embody both vulnerability and strength. Maria Callas showed me that opera is not just about precision, but about raw emotion that cuts straight to the soul. Elis Regina, with her fiery Brazilian spirit, taught me that music can be protest and intimacy at once. And Marisa Monte inspires me with her ability to honor tradition while creating something new and timeless. What they all share—and what I strive to emulate—is authenticity: the bravery to let their art reveal who they are. The impact I want to make on the music industry is one of expansion. I want to remind audiences that music is not mere entertainment, but a transformative force. My dream is to create performances that awaken hearts, blend genres, and open spaces for artists who are often left outside of the mainstream. As a trans woman, I understand how powerful visibility is. By standing on stage and owning my truth, I want to widen the horizon of possibility for others—especially those who feel unseen or unheard. When people remember me, I hope it is not only for the notes I sang, but for the way I made them feel. I want them to recall a voice that carried resilience, tenderness, and light. I want to be remembered as someone who dared to live authentically, who brought joy and comfort through music, and who proved that art belongs to everyone, no matter where they come from. For me, this journey is not about perfection but about presence. Music found me in simple moments with my mother, and it grew into a calling that now defines my life. My hope is that by following the sound of my own truth, I can help others find the courage to listen to theirs.

Mental health is one of the most important aspects of my life, influencing everything from my academic performance to my relationships and overall well-being. As a college student, I understand that maintaining mental health is critical not just for academic success but also for personal fulfillment and happiness. Mental wellness allows me to navigate the pressures of life, manage stress, and remain grounded in a constantly changing environment. College is a time of significant transition, full of exciting opportunities but also immense pressure. For many students, including myself, the challenges of balancing academics, finances, social relationships, and personal development can easily become overwhelming. This is why I believe my mental health is not just important—it is foundational to everything I do. When my mental wellness is prioritized, I can think clearly, make better decisions, and sustain the motivation I need to reach my goals. Throughout my life, I’ve faced periods of anxiety and self-doubt, especially as a transgender individual navigating societal expectations and personal identity. I’ve realized that recognizing these challenges early and addressing them head-on has been essential in my pursuit of personal and academic success. Ignoring mental health issues, no matter how small they may seem at first, often leads to greater struggles later on. The more I focus on maintaining my mental well-being, the better equipped I am to manage stress and uncertainty. To maintain my mental wellness, I have adopted several practices that have become integral to my daily routine. First, I prioritize self-care through mindfulness and physical activities like yoga and dancing. Engaging in these activities helps me stay connected to my body, reduces anxiety, and improves my mood. I also journal regularly, allowing me to process my thoughts and feelings, which is especially important when I’m feeling overwhelmed or unsure of how to move forward. Journaling not only serves as a form of emotional release but also provides me with a record of personal growth that I can look back on during difficult times. Another key factor in maintaining my mental health is staying connected to a supportive community. Whether through my involvement in music, my classes, or LGBTQ+ groups, I surround myself with people who uplift me and share similar values. Social connection is essential for my mental well-being, and I’ve found that talking openly about my struggles with trusted friends or mentors reduces feelings of isolation and loneliness. Additionally, I have learned to seek professional help when necessary. I attend therapy sessions through the Pacific Center for Human Growth, where I can discuss more complex emotions and mental health concerns. Therapy has been instrumental in helping me understand my triggers, set healthy boundaries, and develop coping mechanisms for stress. I’ve also utilized meditation and breathing exercises as tools to manage immediate feelings of anxiety, helping me regain calm and focus during overwhelming moments. Ultimately, my mental health is important because it affects every aspect of my life. Without mental wellness, even the most exciting opportunities can feel daunting. By maintaining mental wellness, I am better able to face challenges with confidence, remain resilient during setbacks, and continue pursuing my dreams. As I move through college and into my future career, I will continue to prioritize my mental health, ensuring that I am in the best possible position to succeed both personally and professionally.

As a gender-expansive transgender individual, my journey through education has been filled with both resilience and resistance. Coming from a conservative background and being born in Brazil, I grew up in a society where traditional gender norms were rigid and unquestioned. After moving to the U.S. in 2019, I sought asylum to escape this environment and begin a new chapter where I could fully embrace my authentic self. This transition came with its own set of challenges, particularly within the education system, where I have often felt alienated and unsupported. One of the most significant barriers I’ve encountered is the lack of institutional support for gender-expansive individuals like myself. In many of the spaces I’ve navigated, whether it's classrooms or administrative offices, the understanding of trans experiences is limited, and resources are sparse. Simple things like updating my name in school records or being addressed correctly in class often require exhausting amounts of advocacy on my part. Additionally, financial aid systems sometimes do not account for the unique challenges faced by trans students, leaving me to navigate a maze of paperwork and criteria that don’t consider my full circumstances. These experiences, while exhausting, have taught me persistence and have motivated me to seek out every opportunity to advance my education. Currently, I am a student at City College studying music. Music has always been a powerful force in my life, offering both healing and expression. My major allows me to explore my passion for vocal performance, specifically opera, while building a solid foundation in music theory and history. My educational goal is to transfer to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, where I aim to further hone my vocal skills, especially in opera, a field where I can blend technical mastery with deep emotional expression. Through rigorous training and continuous learning, I hope to reach the level of mastery that will allow me to perform internationally. My career goal is to become not only a professional singer but also a performer who advocates for greater visibility and inclusion of transgender artists in classical music. Historically, the field of opera and classical music has been dominated by cisgender voices, and there is a glaring absence of transgender representation. I want to break that barrier, showing that gender-expansive individuals belong in all arenas of the arts. By forging my path as a singer, I hope to inspire other trans and non-binary people to pursue careers in the arts without feeling the need to conform to rigid gender norms. After completing my degree, I plan to use my platform to uplift the LGBTQ+ community. I want to create spaces where trans musicians, particularly those of color and from underrepresented communities, can thrive. One way I envision doing this is by founding a non-profit organization that offers music education and performance opportunities for LGBTQ+ youth. These programs would aim to provide both technical training and emotional support, ensuring that young artists feel validated in their identities while pursuing their passion. I also hope to mentor young trans singers and advocate for more inclusive policies in music education programs. In conclusion, the path I am on has been shaped by my experiences as a gender-expansive individual, and while the barriers are many, they have fueled my passion for music and my desire to create lasting change. By achieving my educational and career goals, I hope to not only succeed personally but to contribute meaningfully to the LGBTQ+ community, ensuring that future generations of trans artists have the support and representation they deserve.