Ever since I can remember, mental health has been a constant presence in my life, not just for me, but within my culture and among my family members as well. Unfortunately, in older generations of Black people, mental health has often been a struggle and a largely dismissed issue within our community. It was commonly encouraged to not only ignore your feelings but to suppress them as if pretending the issues didn’t exist would somehow make them disappear. I believe these coping mechanisms are deeply rooted in the racism the Black community has endured and the pressure to be flawless in a world where we’re already at a disadvantage. From that perspective, I can understand where some of this advice comes from. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t critique it and acknowledge that these methods are extremely unhealthy. Pertaining to my life situation, I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety when I was in 6th grade. I was so confused, and I didn't quite understand what was happening because my parents came from a generation that had told them that they shouldn't express or dwell on their feelings. Still, I knew something was wrong, and I've been very emotionally mature and in tune from a very young age. It was affecting my day-to-day life, and I had to go to my family to see if we could address the issue. While it was nice to have something diagnosed, that didn’t mean it just went away as I got older. Having it only opened me up to knowing what it was. Not long after, my aunt, who I was extremely close to, was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It was an extreme case, and it was challenging. To see someone you love and admire lose themselves and be in pain changes you. What I was experiencing was affecting how I saw life and how I wanted to approach my future. At first, with my severe depression mixed with anxiety in my younger years, I began to form a bleak outlook on life. I thought there was nothing to hope for, and it weighed heavily on me. But that was also when my mind started to shift. I began to look at things in a deeper, more reflective way. I wasn’t interested in society’s obsession with toxic positivity, which led me to become more of a realist. Still, I didn’t want to cut the concept of hope out of my life completely. I saw how the world was functioning around me, and I wanted to face it honestly, without pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. This was driving me to form my thoughts and beliefs about the conversations happening around me. I became extremely passionate about getting involved with mental health in the justice system, as well as the role that racism plays in it. I wanted to help reform a system that is not successfully carrying out its duties to the public and is also unprepared to handle scenarios where severe mental health is involved. Along with that, I also wanted to focus specifically on Black mental health, both in society and within the justice system. There is an assumption in society that Black people are inherently strong and rigid, that we don’t struggle with mental health, or that we have a higher pain tolerance and greater mental fortitude. This belief causes many to overlook the mental and emotional needs of the Black community as a whole. In reality, it only appears that way because we have been forced to develop tougher skin in order to survive in a society that was not built for us. There is a disproportionate incarceration of Black individuals, not only due to racism but also because their mental health struggles are often dismissed. Through my research, I’ve learned how many incarcerated Black people are also dealing with mental illness. But with the combination of racism and ignorance toward psychological issues, the justice system continues to fail them. I want to change that. I want to help reform both the individuals who may be suffering and the system itself so that it begins to understand and respond to mental illness in the context of criminal justice. This is my passion. My own struggles and experiences with mental health have shaped who I am and how I envision my future.

Hello, my name is Jada. I come from a family that deeply values hard work and intelligence. When I say "intelligence," I don't just mean book smarts; I mean the pursuit of knowledge beyond the classroom—learning not only from what we read online but from the experiences we encounter in real life. I’ve been fortunate enough to attend various levels of school, including college, which I’m currently enrolled in. My mother graduated with a bachelor’s degree in accounting and later earned her master’s. My father attended the same college, though he didn't complete his degree. He went on to become a firefighter, a profession he loves and is passionate about. One of my main educational goals is to make my parents proud, both for the career I am pursuing and the work I will do in the future. I also have an older sister who has faced numerous health challenges. From the time she was nine years old, she battled leukemia and cancer, followed by a tumor during my middle school years, diabetes in high school, and a brain aneurysm just as I entered college. Now, she’s fighting thyroid and breast cancer. I often feel the weight of this, especially knowing that my parents, who had such high hopes for their firstborn, have been through so much. It’s hard to see them not experience the life they imagined for her, and I feel a sense of responsibility to make sure they have something to be proud of through my own achievements. This is one of the driving forces behind my determination to continue my education and pursue every degree I desire. I want to become a lawyer. This goal isn’t about wealth or childhood dreams of fame. It’s rooted in my own experiences with the criminal justice system, as well as my understanding of the racism and corruption that permeates it. While I've always had an interest in law, it wasn't until middle school that I began to see how deeply satisfying it could be to use facts and logic to argue for what’s right. Over time, I realized that I want to help people who may not have the resources or voice to advocate for themselves. There was a time when I struggled with feelings of hopelessness, wondering if one person could truly make a difference. But I’ve learned that change doesn't always come in grand gestures. It’s often the small actions, the daily decisions to stand up for others, that add up over time and create real, lasting impact. That’s why I’m so committed to this path—I know that every effort counts, no matter how small it may seem in the moment. My specific interest is in criminal defense, particularly in addressing the over-criminalization of Black people, people of color, and individuals with mental health challenges. This is a cause I'm deeply passionate about, as I’ve struggled with my own mental health issues. Diagnosed with severe depression, anxiety, and irritability since middle school, my experiences with mental health have shaped me into a more empathetic and understanding person. I’ve faced many obstacles in my journey, but those challenges have fueled my desire to help others who feel marginalized or misunderstood by the system. Becoming a lawyer will allow me to pursue multiple educational and personal goals. It’s a way for me to fulfill my dreams, not just for myself but also for the people I care about. I am committed to using my education and my career to bring about positive change, both for my family and for the communities I serve.

It’s fascinating to reflect on how mental health has shaped my career goals, relationships, and understanding of the world. Mental health has been a constant in my life, and the struggles I've faced have molded me into who I am today. But I also realize that I need to continue working on myself to avoid slipping back into harmful patterns. From the moment I was born, my life was chaotic. My sister had leukemia twice, and during my first year, I wasn’t with my family because they had more urgent matters to focus on. This was my introduction to mental health and how it would shape me. I would later label myself as a “glass child,” a term for kids who grow up in emotionally neglected environments. This led me to suppress my emotions from a young age. I was positive and upbeat, not because I was naturally carefree, but because I ignored what I was truly feeling. This ignorance seemed fine at the time, but things got worse in middle school. I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety. The catalyst for this was transferring to a predominantly white school where I was bullied. I went from a diverse, accepting environment to one where I struggled to fit in. At the age of 9, I found myself in a new environment, trying to make friends with people who described my simple being as the complete opposite of what they wanted to be around. I developed body dysmorphia, grew to hate myself, and began wearing a facade that wasn’t truly me. My sister’s health struggles have impacted not only my life but also my family’s. Trying to juggle having a sibling with serious health issues while avoiding seeming argumentative or blaming her has always been difficult. It’s hard to deal with everything that comes with it. She went on to develop a tumor in her hip when I was halfway through middle school, then a brain aneurysm as I was leaving high school, and is currently battling both breast cancer and thyroid cancer along with diabetes while I’m in college. While I know my sister is struggling with so many things, she has developed a habit of comparative suffering, and this has taken a huge toll on me. I hate to admit it, but she has a hard time acknowledging the challenges I’ve faced because of her pain. This inability has worsened my addressing my mental health. Having someone you love in constant physical pain makes it incredibly difficult to acknowledge your feelings. You tend to dismiss your pain in favor of supporting them. I have to be honest, this is something I’m still working on today, and it has had a profound effect on my mental health. I believe this is why I’m so passionate about making sure people feel understood, justified, and supported. Experiencing such trauma at a young age was incredibly damaging, and no child should have to go through that. However, it shifted how I viewed people and their emotions. I became very empathetic and often say that I’m kind, not nice. I don’t do things to seek societal approval, but because I care about others. I genuinely want to help people feel better and heard. Growing up, I was constantly around people who would tell me everything that was wrong with me and what was acceptable in their eyes. While simultaneously having my parent tell me to bottle my emotions and "suck it up." This was hard, especially as a young Black girl, and it left me with a lot of lingering traumas that I still work through today. This experience deepened my depression and anxiety, but it also changed how I looked at the world. Initially, I saw the world as dim and unwelcoming. Being exposed to these challenges so young made me mentally mature beyond my years. I became extremely socially aware, but it also led me to become hyper-realistic to the point where it was detrimental. I started focusing on the negatives of life, which overshadowed any positives. I was no longer the carefree girl who smiled without worry, and I struggled to figure out why I felt the way I did. I eventually realized that my sister’s tendency to compare our suffering and adults telling me not to feel contributed to this mindset. She always compared what we went through, and this mentality led me to dismiss my feelings and focus on others so they wouldn’t feel as I did. While I enjoy making people happy, I’ve learned that dismissing my own emotions isn’t healthy. I’ve always been able to acknowledge what I’m going through, but I haven’t always properly addressed it. Mental health has influenced so many aspects of my life. My aunt, for example, has bipolar disorder and can no longer live independently. Many of my dad’s relatives struggle with mental health issues, and my mother has OCD and anxiety. Mental health within the black community is a whole other issue that needs to be addressed, and This is why many of these issues go untreated or overlooked. Navigating these challenges as a child was difficult, but it also helped shape my career aspirations. I want to create an environment where people feel safe to share their experiences and express their emotions without bottling them up. That's why I chose criminal defense law because the CJ system fails to address mental health properly. Many individuals with mental health issues are convicted of crimes, and law enforcement often doesn’t have the training to handle these situations effectively. Individuals in a vulnerable state are frequently harmed by those meant to protect them. They are only scared and want someone to show them a bit of kindness. I want to be a part of an era where I can help change this system and improve the understanding of mental health. It’s common in the criminal justice system, and it needs to be handled with the care and attention it deserves.

My mental and physical wellness is essential to me because everyone must be aware of their well-being to function positively. Recognizing when something is affecting you and taking steps to improve yourself is key to living the life you want. I’ve faced many challenges that forced me to become more aware of my wellness. As a child, I was energetic, outgoing, and confident. I didn’t worry about societal expectations, proudly embraced my race, and wasn’t affected by mental illness. But things changed in middle school. I began menstruating at 8, started 5th grade at 10, and moved from a diverse school to one with mostly white kids, many of whom hadn’t interacted much with other races. I became isolated and experienced racism, which made me self-conscious. This made me start to become self-aware and very critical of myself because I had kids who I wanted to be friends with, but they demanded an environment where I had to be a certain way they deemed as "correct" and "normal". So that's what I did. I changed the way I spoke, acted, what I wore and more. It wasn't the best experience for a young black girl. Trying to navigate an environment that wasn't welcoming. Having crushes, only to be shown that I was never and would never be the desired. I always wore braids because I was afraid of what the kids might say when my natural hair was out. As expected I was met with backhanded compliments like, "Your hair's long for a black girl" or "I didn't know your hair would be that long." My band teacher used to greet me as "basket head" and only recently did I truly comprehend the horribleness of it all. I didn't know I was being mocked. It breaks my heart to think back on this and it only continued in high school. Trying to discover my identity. Was I a tomboy? What's sexuality and what's mine? What can I change about myself to attract people? I hated labels. Dealing with these complexities while growing up in a Black Christian household was not easy. Now, I struggle with maintaining mental and physical health. I’ve been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, irritability, and PCOS, which makes everything harder. I manage my mental health with medication, hobbies, and supportive people. Though things can get bad, I push through. During COVID, this was a time when mental health was tested. PCOS is challenging because it's a condition that deals with the imbalance of hormones and affects many functions in the body, including weight gain, insulin resistance, and hormone imbalances that cause excessive growth of body hair and irregular periods. My metabolism was not fast and my body had become insulin resistant and I had a mix of estrogen and testosterone. His was not only physically taxing but also mentally taxing. I was a female presenting girl who had visible hair growing on the chin, mustache, and arms area. I was insecure and hated myself. I tried to shave and work out, but nothing worked, since this is not curable. You just learn to deal with it. Thankfully now, I have taken steps towards having these issues addressed. There is medication and other ways to support me. I have access to so much information and support from so many communities. This all is to say that you have to work towards not allowing yourself to stay in a negative mindset. There will be tough times, but it's crucial to work towards improvement rather than allow yourself to stay in a bad situation.

Mental health and suicide prevention are crucial topics today, especially among our age group. We are in an era where mental health is worsening, yet there is a lack of urgency to address it. Suicide is one of the leading causes of death in the U.S. among young adults. We are growing up in a world with more mentally taxing issues than previous generations, but our struggles are often dismissed by older generations, which can lead young adults toward suicide. We were raised in the era of social media, economic instability, financial struggles, and environmental challenges—issues that place constant strain on our mental well-being. Additionally, mental health issues are affecting individuals in the criminal justice system. These individuals often face their struggles without adequate support, leading to their involvement in a system that fails to handle mental health concerns effectively. Young adults, Generation Z and younger, are growing up in an economy where it's nearly impossible to survive comfortably unless you're in the upper class. There’s a constant struggle to afford basic necessities like healthcare, housing, education, and groceries. We cannot afford basic needs, which can drive someone to despair and hopelessness. People are working full-time jobs but still can’t afford to live. It's devasting on the mind. To make matters worse, we’re often called lazy or told that we "don’t want to work" by older generations who didn’t face the same struggles. They fail to comprehend that the workforce is scarce, and our income does not outweigh the cost of living. Poverty and homelessness are worse than ever, and some people would rather end their lives than continue facing these hardships. In the past, there was a system where living was affordable back then and the "American dream" was attainable. Previous generations left behind a weakened economy, expecting us to fix it without their support. We are expected to be the "hope" of the world, despite feeling hopeless. Our voices go unheard, and our government is run by people who resided in a time of corrupt policies and don’t understand the challenges we face. They show no intent to adapt to the current needs of society. We try to fight for change, but we are often shut down, which is exhausting and takes a toll on our mental health. Living in a constant state of distress makes even simple tasks hard to do. Motivation decreases, dreams fade, and negative thoughts take over. My experience with mental health has deeply influenced my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations. I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety in the 6th grade, which is a young age for such themes. Sadly, these issues run in my family. My aunt has severe BPD, which prevents her from living independently, and my mom has OCD, anxiety, and depression. Growing up in this environment has shaped my passion for becoming a lawyer and making an impact in criminal justice, particularly for individuals with mental health challenges. This issue is especially important for Black people and their interactions with the system. In Black culture, mental health is often dismissed, and emotions are suppressed. This stigma is worsened by the disproportionate criminalization of Black people in the justice system. Many of these individuals also struggle with untreated mental health issues, and instead of receiving care, they are subjected to violence and mistreatment. Law enforcement does little to educate themselves on the issues that could improve the overall experience for all parties I aspire to work in criminal defense and make strides towards reforming the government so that mental health can be better handled and not further criminal activity.