What makes me a “You Got It Girl” is my mindset — the way I show up for myself and others, even when life gets heavy. Being the oldest sibling in a family that’s moved between Detroit and Ohio, I’ve always had extra responsibility on my shoulders. From helping raise my younger siblings to working while balancing school and sports, I’ve learned how to keep going, even when quitting feels easier. I don’t just talk about dreams — I put in the work to reach them. This YGIG Scholarship would mean so much to me because it’s more than money — it’s a reminder that someone sees my hustle and believes in my journey. Whether it helps cover training costs, gear, or travel to competitions, it would ease some of the pressure I carry and allow me to fully commit to my goals. I’ve been involved in dance since I was a little girl. It started in my living room with music blasting and has grown into a full commitment to competitive dance. Over the years, I’ve performed in recitals, competitions, and community events, pushing myself to improve not just my skills but my stage presence, confidence, and creativity. I’ve received recognition for performance, teamwork, and leadership — but what means most to me is how dance has become my safe space. It’s where I express myself, relieve stress, and connect with others who share my passion. One of the hardest challenges I faced was during a time when my family was going through instability — bouncing between homes, limited support, and me still trying to maintain school and dance. There were days I’d show up to class or practice with so much on my mind, but I kept showing up. I didn’t let my situation define me. Instead, I let it sharpen me. I learned how to use my pain as fuel. I stayed focused, leaned on mentors, and reminded myself that my current reality wasn’t my final destination. That season of struggle taught me resilience, time management, and emotional strength — tools I still use every day. Someone I deeply admire is my mother. Even when life knocked her down, she found ways to provide and protect us. She taught me how to be strong without losing your softness. Her sacrifices remind me why I can’t give up, and her love reminds me why I must keep going — not just for me, but for everyone coming behind me. This scholarship would directly support my journey by helping me access the resources that make all the difference in sports and education. Things like quality gear, travel costs for competitions, training sessions, and even school supplies sometimes go on the back burner because of financial stress. This opportunity would lift some of that weight and allow me to continue showing up as the best version of myself — confident, prepared, and focused on growth. Lastly, I just want you to know that I’m not perfect, but I’m persistent. I don’t come from much, but I carry ambition that’s louder than my circumstances. I represent every girl who’s ever doubted herself but kept going anyway. Winning this scholarship wouldn’t just help me — it would remind others watching me that they can do it too. That they got it, girl.

Losing someone to suicide is a pain that never really goes away—it lives with you, reshaping how you see the world and yourself. I experienced that loss personally when a close family member took their own life. They were someone I looked up to—strong, funny, and full of love—but behind all that, they were fighting a battle none of us could see. Their passing hit me hard, and for a while, I felt lost, confused, and even guilty. I kept asking myself, “Was there something I missed?” or “Could I have done more?” That pain stayed with me, but over time, it turned into purpose. That’s what inspired me to pursue a career in the mental health field. What I’ve learned from this loss is that mental health struggles are often silent. People can be smiling on the outside and suffering deeply inside. My family member never talked about their pain, and I believe that’s what hurt the most—not knowing they felt so alone. That realization changed me. It made me want to be the kind of person who listens, who notices, who reaches out. It made me want to help others speak up about their struggles without fear or shame. Now, I’m working toward a degree in psychology because I want to become a therapist and make mental health support more available, especially in communities like mine where there’s still stigma and misunderstanding around depression, anxiety, and suicide. So many people feel like they have no one to talk to or no place to go for help. I want to change that. I hope to create an app that offers affordable online therapy, peer support groups, and daily tools for mental wellness. Whether someone’s dealing with trauma, stress, loneliness, or suicidal thoughts, they should never feel like they have to face it alone. My experience with loss has given me empathy and drive. I know what it feels like to be on the outside, watching someone fade and not knowing how to stop it. I never want anyone else to feel that helpless. I believe I can make a difference in suicide prevention by helping people feel seen and heard—by offering early support, by showing up with compassion, and by creating safe spaces where people can be real about what they’re going through. This path isn’t just a career for me; it’s personal. I carry my loved one’s memory with me every day, and I’m turning that pain into purpose. Their life may have ended, but their story lives on through the work I want to do. I’m committed to making sure that those who are struggling know that they matter, their feelings are valid, and that there is always hope—even in the darkest moments.

My name is Jamyra Young, and I’m an 18-year-old freshman at Oakland University. I’m proud to be the first person in my family to attend a four-year university. Growing up, I moved between homes in Detroit and Ohio, facing instability that made me grow up quickly. I often had to take on the responsibilities of an adult—helping raise younger siblings, holding a job, and trying to stay focused on school. These experiences didn’t break me; they built me. They taught me resilience, compassion, and the importance of mental strength. Because of everything I’ve been through, I’ve become deeply passionate about mental health. I’m majoring in psychology with the goal of becoming a licensed therapist and creating my own online therapy app or platform. So many people—especially in low-income or minority communities—suffer in silence because therapy is too expensive, unavailable, or stigmatized. I want to change that. My future career isn’t just about having a job; it’s about being a voice for those who don’t feel heard and providing tools to help people take control of their emotional well-being. I didn’t have much to go off as a kid so I know in reality people like me will need someone there at anytime. I plan to make a positive impact by improving access to mental health care. I want to use my education to break down barriers, whether that’s through affordable online therapy options, school-based mental health programs, or partnerships with community organizations. I see technology as a powerful tool to reach people wherever, however, whenever, whoever they are—whether they’re a teen struggling with depression or a single mom overwhelmed by stress in life . My goal is to create a platform that’s affordable, private, culturally sensitive, and available 24/7. In addition to my professional goals, I also want to serve as a role model—especially for young Black girls who don’t see enough representation in mental health professions. I want them to know that their voice matters, their healing matters, and their dreams are valid. I hope my journey shows that your past doesn’t define your future—you do. Education is more than just something I’m doing for myself. It’s my way of giving back, of creating change, and of turning pain into purpose. With support, I know I can go further and make a real difference. I’m not just trying to earn a degree; I’m trying to change lives—including my own.

In a world where male voices often speak the loudest, I’ve found my power in the silence between the noise—on the field, in the studio, in the classroom, and inside the chaos of real life. Being a female athlete and dancer while balancing school, work, and family responsibilities has shaped me into more than just a strong woman—it’s made me unstoppable. Growing up as the oldest sibling meant stepping into the role of caretaker before I even fully grew into myself. I wasn’t just a student—I was a second mom. While my peers were out after school or relaxing on weekends, I was feeding kids, helping with homework, wiping tears, and making sure everyone else was okay—even when I wasn’t. That kind of responsibility doesn’t just mature you—it transforms you. I had no choice but to grow up fast, but what I gained in return was grit and resilience that no textbook or trophy could ever teach me. At the same time, I was juggling school, dance, and a job. Late nights turned into early mornings. I would be at work helping customers, then rushing to dance practice with sore feet, and finally home to check on siblings and finish assignments. People ask how I do it all—and the truth is, I didn’t have a choice. But I turned that pressure into purpose. Sports and dance were my escape, but also my battleground. I learned to fight for my space in a world where girls are expected to shrink themselves—to smile more, speak less, and sit on the sidelines. But on the dance floor or in the gym, I felt powerful. I wasn’t anyone’s babysitter, employee, or “just a girl”—I was a force. I competed, trained, and pushed my body and mind to limits people never expected of me. I learned discipline, leadership, and how to keep moving forward even when everything around me tried to hold me back. Balancing school and sports while carrying the weight of adulthood on my shoulders has taught me time management, emotional intelligence, and mental toughness. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself in male-dominated spaces, not by yelling over others, but by letting my work ethic and determination speak for me. I don’t need to prove I belong—I prove it by showing up and outlasting every obstacle thrown my way. Today, I walk into rooms knowing I bring something no one else can—real-life experience, grit, and an inner fire that can’t be dimmed. I’m not just preparing for success; I’m creating it, on my own terms. And one day, when other young girls feel overwhelmed by a world that seems too loud or too tough, I’ll be there to remind them: strength isn’t about how loud you are—it’s about how hard you fight to be heard, even when you’re tired, even when you’re overlooked. I didn’t just grow stronger by balancing life, school, and sports—I became a leader, a protector, and a warrior in this male-dominated world, that’s exactly what we need more of.

Mental health care is a basic human need, yet so many people can’t afford or access the support they deserve. As a psychology major, I want to be part of the solution. My goal is to create a mobile app that connects users with licensed therapists for online sessions, while also offering free self-help tools like mood trackers, breathing exercises, and guided journaling. This app would offer sliding-scale payments and connect users with low-cost providers based on income and location. I’d also include culturally aware content, especially for communities of color, who often face stigma or lack of access. By combining technology and psychology, I want to remove barriers that keep people from getting help—whether it’s cost, distance, or fear. Mental health care shouldn’t be a luxury, and my contribution to the world is to help make it a right. I believe healing should be affordable, accessible, and customized for each person, and I’m determined to build tools that make that happen.

My name is Jamyra Young, and I’m currently a psychology major at Oakland University. As an African American woman from a low-income background, stepping into the world of higher education has been both empowering and overwhelming. Psychology is more than just my major—it’s my calling. I want to help people heal, especially those from communities like mine, where mental health isn’t often talked about and access to care is limited. But the path to becoming a licensed psychologist comes with many challenges, especially financial ones. Even as an undergrad, the costs are heavy—from tuition and textbooks to transportation and everyday living expenses. Looking ahead, the journey doesn’t get any easier. Applying to professional or graduate programs in psychology requires admissions tests like the GRE, application fees for multiple schools, and expensive study materials. These costs add up fast and can make the process feel out of reach, no matter how motivated or prepared you are. There have been times when I had to choose between buying a book for class or saving for future application fees. I’ve picked up extra hours at work just to keep up, which has sometimes taken time away from studying or being involved on campus. It’s a constant balancing act between surviving and succeeding. That’s why this scholarship means so much to me. It’s not just financial support—it’s a weight lifted. It’s the chance to focus on what I came here to do: learn, grow, and prepare for a career that makes a real difference in people’s lives. My long-term goal is to become a licensed clinical psychologist and open a mental health and wellness center in my community. I want to offer low-cost therapy, workshops on mental health awareness, and create a safe space for people—especially youth and women of color—who are often overlooked when it comes to emotional and psychological support. I believe everyone deserves the chance to heal, grow, and thrive, no matter their income or background. This scholarship would give me room to breathe and push forward with confidence. It would allow me to invest in study materials, apply to graduate programs without hesitation, and stay focused on my classes without the constant worry about money. It would help me stay on track toward becoming someone who not only understands mental health—but also fights for better care and access for those who need it most. In the future, I also want to mentor other young Black girls interested in psychology and STEM-related fields. I want them to see someone who looks like them succeeding in spaces we don’t always feel welcome in. I want to remind them that their voice, their story, and their goals matter. Thank you for considering me for this scholarship. With your support, I’ll be one step closer to turning my dream into a reality—not just for me, but for my community.

My name is Jamyra Young, and I’m currently a psychology major at Oakland University. Being here is a big step not just for me, but for my entire family—I’m the first to attend a four-year university. It’s a blessing, but it also comes with a lot of responsibility. I know what it’s like to want something more for your future, but feel weighed down by the cost of making it happen. That’s why this scholarship would mean everything to me—it would lift some of the weight off my shoulders and allow me to focus more on becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be. I’ve always been passionate about mental health, especially because I’ve seen how much people in my life have struggled with it without the support they needed. Where I come from, therapy isn’t always talked about or accessible. But that doesn’t mean people aren’t hurting. That’s what made me want to study psychology. I want to help people—especially youth and women of color—heal, grow, and find peace in ways that make sense for them. I want to be the therapist I wish more people had when they were younger. Getting this scholarship would help me stay on track toward that dream. Like many students, I have to work hard to afford tuition, books, and everyday expenses. Balancing school with financial stress can be overwhelming at times. I want to be fully present in my classes and get involved in more opportunities on campus that will help me grow as a future mental health professional. With some financial relief, I could focus more on internships, volunteer work, and programs that help me build the skills I need. Before college, I played volleyball, softball, and was a cheerleader. Sports taught me a lot—how to push through even when things are tough, how to lift up my teammates, and how to keep showing up with heart. I carry those lessons with me today. I’m someone who doesn’t give up easily, who believes in the power of community, and who knows that one person can make a big difference when they truly care. That’s exactly the kind of therapist and advocate I hope to become. In the future, I want to open a community center that offers low-cost therapy, wellness programs, and a safe space for people who’ve never felt seen. I want to change how mental health is talked about, especially in places where it’s often ignored. This scholarship would help me continue moving toward that vision without letting money hold me back. Thank you for considering me for this opportunity. With your support, I’ll keep working hard, not just for myself, but for all the people I hope to help one day.

My name is Jamyra Young, and I’m currently a psychology student with big dreams and a heart for change. My passion for mental health started from my own life and the experiences of those around me. I’ve seen what it’s like when people struggle in silence, especially in communities where mental health isn’t always talked about or taken seriously. Growing up, I realized that so many people—especially Black women and youth—carry heavy emotional burdens without the support they need. That’s what pushed me toward psychology. I want to be someone who can truly help. My dream is to become a licensed clinical psychologist, focusing on trauma, youth, and marginalized communities. I want to make therapy feel safe, supportive, and culturally relevant—something it hasn’t always been. I believe that mental health care should be for everyone, not just those who can afford it or who fit a certain mold. There’s still a lot of stigma around mental health, especially in Black and brown communities, and I want to be part of breaking that down. Outside of the classroom, sports have played a big part in shaping who I am. I’ve played volleyball, softball, and was on the cheer team—each one teaching me different lessons about discipline, teamwork, and confidence. Sports helped me learn how to lead, how to bounce back from failure, and how to support others. These experiences showed me how strong people can be on the outside while still struggling inside—and that pushed me even more to want to work in mental health. Being an athlete also gave me a sense of purpose and belonging during hard times. I plan to carry that same energy into my career. I want to create spaces where people—especially young girls and women—can feel seen, heard, and understood. Whether it’s starting a community wellness center or offering low-cost therapy sessions, I want to make sure mental health care is not just available but welcoming to all. As a young Black woman entering this field, I also know how important representation is. We need more therapists, counselors, and leaders who look like the people they’re serving. I want to inspire the next generation and prove that you can turn your pain into power, your struggles into purpose. This scholarship would help me continue my education and get closer to that dream. It’s not just about the degree for me—it’s about the impact. I want to be part of a future where everyone feels safe enough to ask for help and strong enough to heal.

Softball has been more than just a sport for me—it’s been a major part of my personal growth,my mindset, and even the goals I haven . From the very first time I picked up a glove, I knew there was something special about being on that field. I’ve faced setbacks, celebrated wins, and grown into a stronger, more confident version of myself—all thanks to the lessons I’ve learned through the game. One of the biggest things softball taught me is perseverance. There were practices where I felt exhausted, games where I struck out over and over, and seasons where our team just couldn’t seem to win. But I kept showing up. I learned that showing up matters, especially when things get tough. One moment that stands out was during a tournament when I was 14. We were playing a tough team, and I had struck out twice already. In the last inning, with runners on base and two outs, I was up to bat again. My nerves were all over the place, but I remembered my coach’s words: “You’ve done the work—trust yourself.” I focused, swung hard, and hit a double that tied the game. We ended up winning in extra innings. That moment taught me that you don’t have to be perfect—you just have to keep trying. That same mindset has helped me push through academic challenges, family struggles, and other moments where I could’ve easily given up. Softball also taught me about the power of community. Being part of a team means more than just wearing the same jersey—it means learning how to trust people, how to lift each other up, and how to win and lose together. I’ve had teammates who were going through hard things at home or in school, and I saw how powerful it can be when someone simply listens, encourages, or stands by your side. Those small acts of support reminded me that being a good teammate isn’t just about what you do during the game—it’s about who you are off the field, too. That sense of loyalty and care is something I want to carry with me always. My coaches have also had a major impact on me.Some were tough and pushed me to be better every day, while others were more soft-spoken but always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. They taught me to hold myself accountable, to learn from my mistakes instead of beating myself up over them, and to always leave everything I had on the field. Because of their guidance, I’ve started to think about how I can give back. I want to mentor others someday, whether through coaching younger players or working in a field where I can support youth and help them grow mentally and emotionally. Softball has made me more than just a better athlete—it’s made me a better person. It’s helped me develop confidence, patience, leadership, and compassion. It’s taught me how to stay grounded in tough moments and how to find joy even in small victories. As I move forward in life, I plan to carry those values with me. Whether I’m in college, a future career, or my community, I’ll keep showing up, supporting others, and giving it my all just like I’ve always done on the field. The Brett Brakel Memorial Scholarship honors the kind of values I’ve come to live by mentorship, perseverance, and community. I’m grateful for the role softball has played in helping me build those qualities, and I’m excited to keep growing, learning, and giving back, both on and off the field.

I have personally felt the impact of domestic violence and substance abuse by witnessing how deeply they can affect the people I care about. Growing up, I watched family members struggle in relationships that were marked by emotional and sometimes physical abuse. I also saw how substance use, whether alcohol or drugs, often became a way to cope with stress or unhealed trauma. Unfortunately, these coping mechanisms only led to more pain, conflict, and instability. It created an environment where cycles of hurt seemed normal, and speaking openly about what was happening was rare — especially within the African American community, where there is often added stigma around discussing personal or family struggles. Seeing these experiences unfold around me opened my eyes at a young age to how much domestic violence and substance abuse can damage not only individuals, but entire families across generations. It also made me aware of how cultural misunderstandings and systemic inequities can prevent African American women from getting the support they truly need. Often, these women carry the weight of protecting family secrets or battling stereotypes that paint them as “strong” and incapable of vulnerability, which only deepens the silence. These personal experiences are what inspired me to pursue a degree in psychology. I wanted to understand the emotional and psychological wounds that trauma leaves behind, and learn how to help people begin to heal from them. Through my studies, I’ve gained a deeper appreciation for how trauma, addiction, and cycles of violence are intertwined — and how important it is to approach care from a place of cultural humility and compassion. In the future, I plan to use my education to work in mental health counseling or community outreach programs that focus specifically on supporting African American women impacted by domestic violence and substance abuse. I want to help build safe spaces where these women can share their stories without fear of judgment, and where their experiences are validated and understood. By providing counseling and educational workshops, I hope to empower them with tools to break harmful cycles and develop healthier coping strategies. Beyond individual counseling, I also want to be a part of improving the broader systems of care. I believe that real change happens when healthcare providers, mental health professionals, social services, and community organizations work together more seamlessly. Better coordination and communication among these groups means fewer women fall through the cracks, and more receive comprehensive support that addresses not just their immediate safety, but their long-term emotional well-being. Ultimately, my goal is to help change the outcomes for African American women impacted by these issues. I want to shift the narrative from one of generational trauma and silence to one of resilience, healing, and hope. Through my work in psychology, I hope to advocate for more culturally responsive care, reduce stigma around seeking mental health support, and be part of building stronger, more informed communities. By doing so, I believe we can create pathways for more women to reclaim their stories and build healthier, brighter futures for themselves and their families.