My name is Jeanne, and I am the daughter of a now-deceased rapist and murderer. From the beginning of my life, the justice system was not an abstract concept but an ever-present reality. My father spent much of my childhood incarcerated, and I grew up feeling the weight of stigma and judgment from something I had no control over. Yet instead of letting this define me negatively, I have chosen to use my lived experience as a source of strength and insight. I understand what issues occur within the legal system because I have lived them, and I offer authentic solutions grounded in both personal experience and professional knowledge. Books and education have been my way forward, giving me both language and perspective to make sense of my experiences. Through my studies in criminal justice and psychology, I have come to see how systems often fail those who are most in need of support, and how human potential is too often overlooked in favor of punishment. Reading about restorative justice, trauma, and resilience has inspired me to pursue a career where I can merge knowledge with empathy. My goal is to work in correctional counseling and forensic psychology, where I can help individuals heal, reintegrate, and create new futures for themselves. My own journey with mental health has made me deeply aware of the intersection between trauma and the justice system. Surviving trauma and stigma taught me resilience but also compassion. It has shaped my relationships by teaching me to lead with patience, empathy, and understanding. It has influenced my beliefs by reinforcing the idea that no one should be defined by their darkest moment. It has guided my career aspirations by motivating me to work toward trauma-informed care and restorative justice approaches. I know firsthand that mental health is often overlooked in conversations about crime and incarceration, and I want to ensure it is brought to the center. One way I am already addressing a critical social issue is through a nonprofit I co-founded called in-car-cerated. This organization seeks to solve an overlooked barrier for justice-impacted families: transportation. Families of incarcerated individuals often struggle to maintain contact with their loved ones due to lack of reliable transportation, leading to isolation, financial instability, and fractured family bonds. These issues directly affect reentry outcomes. By providing vehicles and transportation solutions, in-car-cerated helps families maintain connections, access jobs, and create stability. Our work is about much more than cars—it is about preserving dignity, building hope, and giving families the tools to thrive even in the face of systemic obstacles. As a first-generation college student working toward a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice: Correctional Counseling, I see my education as a way to transform lived experience into professional expertise. Every step forward represents not only my resilience but also my determination to use my voice for change. My unique background allows me to bridge gaps between policy, practice, and lived experience, ensuring that the people most affected by the justice system are not left out of conversations about reform. Through my career, I plan to make a positive impact by addressing the cycle of incarceration, breaking down stigma, and advocating for systems that uplift rather than punish. Whether through counseling, policy reform, or nonprofit leadership, I will continue working to bring humanity, fairness, and opportunity into spaces where they are too often missing. Change is never easy, but because I have lived its necessity, I am committed to being part of it.

Being a first-generation student means carrying both the weight of where I come from and the hope of where I am determined to go. My childhood was filled with fear I could never quite escape. I remember nights when my stepfather’s violence shook the walls of our home, the terror of being taken and not knowing when we would come back, the feeling of being small and powerless in a world that felt unsafe. At the same time, my biological father was serving a 17-year sentence for rape and murder. I grew up with the ache of knowing my father’s name brought judgment long before people knew me. When he was released, I wrestled with what it meant to have him back in my life. He was both a stranger and my father, someone I wanted to know but also someone whose past cast a long shadow. For over a decade, I had a complicated chance to see him as more than his crimes. When he passed away a few years ago, it broke something in me I didn’t realize was still fragile. I grieved him, but I also felt the relief from all his victims and it was heavy to reconcile both emotions. His life and death taught me how easily cycles repeat, and how desperately I want to be the one to break them. On my own path, I’ve survived things that nearly ended me: domestic violence, a tragic fall that left scars I carry to this day, and septic shock that almost took my life. I know what it feels like to wonder if tomorrow will come, to feel like pain is all that waits ahead. But I also know the strength it takes to choose life, to stand back up even when every part of you wants to give in. Survival became my teacher—it showed me resilience, but also compassion for others carrying hidden battles. Being a first-generation student is more than just earning a degree—it’s my way of reclaiming my story. I am pursuing Criminal Justice with the goal of becoming a forensic psychologist, because I believe in justice that sees the human being behind the crime, in systems that understand trauma instead of dismissing it. My experiences have given me a deep empathy for people written off as lost causes. I know what it feels like to be silenced, and I want to make a career out of giving voice to those unheard. This scholarship would not only ease the financial strain of my education, it would be a reminder that my journey matters—that all the pain I’ve endured is not wasted, but transformed into purpose. Being a first-generation student has taught me this: we are not defined by what we survive, but by what we create from it. And I choose to create hope, healing, and change.

In the criminal justice system, victims are rightfully the focal point. Offenders face consequences of their actions. But too often there are those suffering still that nobody seems to notice. and they're forced to go on remaining forgotten about. Who am I referring to? The children of the incarcerated. They live in the liminal space between guilt and grief, love and shame—judged by association and punished in silence. I know—because I was one of them. My father, was a convicted rapist and violent offender who later took lives. He was incarcerated for most of my life. Though he has passed on, the stigma he created didn’t die with him. I still live with the scars of being his child—scars the world doesn’t see or understand. Luckily, I somehow found the ability to forgive him later in life after the damage was done and create a meaningful relationship before his death. However, when your parent is a violent offender, society often sees you as tainted, too. Teachers lower expectations. Peers avoid you. Some whisper. Others stare. And inside, you quietly crumble under the weight of questions no child should have to answer. Can I love someone who hurt others? Am I anything like them? Even the desire to maintain a relationship with an incarcerated parent is often viewed as suspect. But those connections—when safe and possible—can mean everything. They can heal. They can keep families grounded. They can keep hearts open and create the foundation of genuine change within a person. That’s why I co-founded in-car-cerated. Still in the early stages of building, it’s a nonprofit with a singular mission: to provide free, reliable transportation for justice-affected families. Incarceration creates a myriad of issues such as distance and financial hardships if the incarcerated parent was a provider. Many families lose touch simply because they can’t get there. We’re here to change that. A mother who wants to bring her kids to see their father. A grandmother without a license who hasn’t seen her son in years. A child trying to understand who their parent is. These visits can change everything. They reduce recidivism. They remind people they’re loved. They offer children a chance to ask hard questions and form their own understanding. We want to remove the transportation barrier. Eventually, we also plan to employ formerly incarcerated individuals by offering an auto mechanic trade training course within our organization, creating work for those who often face employment barriers upon reentering society. This isn’t just about rides—it’s about restoring dignity and connection. My vision for in-car-cerated comes raw lived experience. I’m currently pursuing a degree in Criminal Justice: Correctional Counseling. I study corrections, social services, and elements that contribute to criminal behaviors. I believe deeply that justice must include healing—not just punishment. This scholarship would support my urgent financial need for funding so I can continue to help others. I want to build something that speaks for the children who are left behind—those navigating grief, shame, and identity without guidance or support. I want to give them the chance to navigate the dark and complex road they're forced to walk down and perhaps make sense of it and maintain a sense of family in the process. I want to be the person I needed when I was young. Because incarceration doesn’t just take people away—it builds walls around everyone who loves them. It locks them in and their children out. And if we don’t build bridges back, those walls become impenetrable. Children of the incarcerated serve time in silence. It’s time we listened.

Sometimes, dreams start in the bleachers. I was just a kid when I first watched the Cincinnati Reds from the cheap seats that my kind uncle Tony bought, clapping until my hands hurt and imagining a future where I could do something just as meaningful with my life. Not with a bat or glove, but with my heart and mind. My dream is to become a forensic psychologist who advocates for incarcerated individuals—especially those who’ve been forgotten or judged unfairly by the system. I’m the daughter of an incarcerated man, and I've lived my entire life with the stigma that comes with that. But rather than run from it, I’ve chosen to face it and turn it into purpose. My goal is to use my education to help people understand how trauma, poverty, and mental illness intersect with the justice system. I want to be the voice in the courtroom that says, “This person is more than their worst moment.” I’m currently studying Correctional Counseling with a concentration in Criminal Justice, but I’ve reached a financial wall. My aid has run dry, and my savings have already been drained. I’ve worked through school, raised my children, and even have the early workings starting a nonprofit to help families stay connected to incarcerated loved ones through transportation. But right now, I can’t afford to finish what I started—unless someone like you believes in me. Winning Austin’s scholarship would not only keep me in school—it would reignite hope. I plan to finish my degree, pursue licensure, and eventually provide trauma-informed care to those navigating reentry and rehabilitation. I plan to change lives, one person, one case, one broken system at a time. I’ve never had the chance to stand on a field and be celebrated for anything. But if I do, I’ll carry not just my dream—but the dreams of everyone who’s ever felt left out of the game. I hope to give hope, motivation, and a new lease on life to many who have gone their entire lives striking out at every pitch. I want to give the chance for others to hit the first and most important home run of their lives. Just like a player is more than their stats- a person is not defined by their mistakes. They can change the course of the lives like a great team can change the game at the top of the 9th inning. Thank you for believing that people like me

Kwe'l Me' tal-wlein! That means "hello" in Mi'kmaq. Growing up, I always felt something was missing—an unspoken absence that lingered in the background of my family’s story. It wasn’t something I could put into words as a child, but I sensed it in the quiet moments, in the way specific questions about our family history never had clear answers. There was an unknown piece of my identity, just out of reach. That feeling finally began to make sense when my father found out he was adopted at the age of 30. It was a revelation that shook him to his core, unraveling everything he thought he knew about his origins. For him, it was as if his entire sense of self had been rewritten instantly. For me, it explained the void I had always felt. The family history I had been told wasn’t entirely ours—it was borrowed, incomplete. That realization set me on a path of discovery that would eventually lead me to my true heritage. In uncovering my father’s adoption, we also uncovered our Native American ancestry—something that had been hidden, whether by circumstance or by design. We learned that we are Montaukett and Mi'kmaq, descendants of two resilient and deeply rooted Indigenous nations. The weight of that discovery was immense. It was both exhilarating and sobering—to gain something so profound, yet to realize how much had been lost along the way. Determined to reclaim what had been taken, I immersed myself in learning about my heritage. Language was one of the first and most meaningful steps in that journey. Learning to speak Mi’kmaq became more than just an academic pursuit—it was an act of restoration, a way to reconnect with a lineage that had been obscured for generations. Every word, every phrase I learned, felt like a thread weaving me back into the fabric of my ancestors. The more I spoke, the more I understood that language is more than just communication—it carries history, identity, and the spirit of a people. This journey of discovery has helped me understand my roots and deepened my sense of self. I am not just the product of what was handed down to me—I am the bridge between the past and the future, reclaiming what was lost and ensuring that it continues. My father’s late discovery of his adoption opened a door that led us back to who we indeed are. Now, I walk forward with a greater sense of purpose, honoring the stories, the language, and the resilience of those who came before me.

My dedication to prisoners' rights is rooted in the belief that every individual, regardless of their past, deserves humane treatment and a justice system that prioritizes rehabilitation over cruelty. The misuse of solitary confinement is one of the most egregious violations of human dignity within the correctional system. While isolation may be justified in rare cases for safety reasons, it is too often wielded as a tool of punishment, retaliation, or convenience rather than necessity. In my hometown, I personally witnessed this abuse and took direct action to stop it. One of the most alarming instances of solitary confinement misuse involved correctional officers placing inmates who had tested positive for COVID-19 into isolation rather than providing them with the necessary medical care. Instead of being transferred to a medical facility or receiving treatment in a designated healthcare unit, these inmates were locked in small, windowless cells for extended periods—left to suffer in silence. This was not only cruel but also a clear violation of public health guidelines and basic human rights. Solitary confinement, which is known to cause severe psychological distress, was being used as an alternative to proper medical intervention. This reckless decision put both inmates and staff at greater risk, as untreated individuals could have worsened conditions and potentially spread the virus further. I knew I couldn't remain silent when I became aware of these inhumane practices. I immediately filed a formal complaint with the facility’s Internal Investigative Affairs division. I detailed how solitary was being misused, how inmates with COVID-19 were being neglected rather than treated, and how this constituted a violation of ethical and legal standards. Less than 24 hours later, I received a call from the warden himself. He confirmed that my complaints were valid and that, as a result of my report, the facility would be temporarily discontinuing the use of solitary confinement. He also mentioned that all inmates with COVID had received appropriate treatment and were being held together in a designated area where they would continue to be given appropriate care. This decision marked a significant victory, not only for the inmates who had been suffering but for broader efforts toward reforming unjust correctional practices. This experience reaffirmed my commitment to advocating for prisoners' rights and holding institutions accountable for treating incarcerated individuals. The temporary shutdown of solitary confinement in my hometown was a crucial step in the right direction, but my fight is far from over. I continue to push for long-term reforms, including the implementation of humane alternatives to solitary confinement and greater oversight to prevent further abuses. No one should have to endure isolation as a substitute for medical care, and I will remain steadfast in my efforts to ensure that all individuals—regardless of their circumstances—are treated with the dignity and respect they deserve

2017 was a year full of new events. In July, I became a mother to a beautiful baby girl. A month later, her father and I moved into a new home. Two months later, to the day, I would be struggling to survive in the ICU from septic shock. I was 29 years old, and I had never even heard of septic shock before. The morning before I ended up in the ICU, I woke up and got myself ready for work. I felt a bit off but mostly felt okay. I had some shortness of breath but brushed it off as I had a busy day working at a restaurant on a college football game day, and we were going to be extremely busy. I arrived at work, and things started to go downhill quickly. I kept having to sit down to try and catch my breath. Rapidly, I found myself nearly unable to take normal breaths. My breathing became very labored, and I was only capable of taking very short breaths without being in agonizing pain. I was sent home. When I got home, I laid on the couch and took a nap, thinking I would feel better if I rested. Eight hours passed, and I woke up to roll over. As I attempted to do so, I realized I was in excruciating pain. My left lung felt as though I had been shot. I could hardly speak, but managed to ask my daughter's dad to please call an ambulance. I had formerly collapsed my left lung in a traumatic fall years before and thought it might be collapsing again. EMTs arrived and asked me what was wrong. I explained my concerns but upon inspection, said my lungs sounded fine. I told them there was something really wrong. One of the EMTs checked my blood pressure. It was 35/53 and before I knew it, they were racing me to the ICU. I was in and out of consciousness. I knew I was sick, but I had no idea what I was about to go through. As I was being wheeled down a hospital hallway, a doctor asked if I would verbally agree to be "trached " if necessary. I asked them what was going on. I was in a mental haze but I recall hearing "septic shock". I asked if I was going to die. Somebody answered after hesitating, "... Honey, it's not looking too good." I remember thinking to myself, "Am I going to die??" I was so ill that my following thought was, "I don't even care." I faded out of consciousness. I had an infection that went untreated from giving birth to my daughter two months prior. My lung had scar tissue in it from when it collapsed years before, and in that scar tissue pneumonia had taken over. It eventually turned into sepsis, then severe sepsis, and finally septic shock. I had double organ failure and very low blood pressure when I arrived at the ICU and was given less than a 14% chance of survival. My heart rate was at an alarming 130 beats per minute and the very strong antibiotics I was given seemed to be ineffective. I was in the ICU for 5 days fighting for my life. I finally pulled through against all odds. It was the sickest I've ever been and though I'm happy to have survived, it has caused lasting complications for the rest of my life that I still struggle with on a daily basis. Every day is a fight.

Being the first in my family to obtain a college degree means more than just achieving a personal milestone—it represents breaking a generational cycle of limited educational opportunities and setting a new standard for my family. Coming from a background where neither of my parents had the chance to pursue higher education, this accomplishment is a significant turning point. It symbolizes resilience, perseverance, and hope. Earning this degree is not just for me; it's for my family, showing that we can overcome adversity and push beyond societal and personal barriers. It also fills me with pride knowing that I can be a role model for future generations, demonstrating that with determination and support, achieving higher education is possible. In college, I want to pursue forensic psychology, with a particular focus on correctional counseling. Given my personal experiences with addiction, family incarceration, and the impact of mental health, I have a strong passion for understanding the psychological factors that contribute to criminal behavior. I aim to work directly with individuals who are incarcerated, providing mental health support, facilitating rehabilitation, and helping them reintegrate into society in a healthy and productive way. Through this, I hope to contribute to justice reform and advocate for mental health interventions as part of the rehabilitation process. My long-term goals include becoming a forensic psychologist and working within the criminal justice system to support mental health initiatives. Ultimately, I hope to contribute to systemic change by advocating for justice reform that emphasizes rehabilitation over punishment, particularly for individuals suffering from addiction and mental illness. I envision creating programs that integrate mental health support into correctional facilities and reentry systems, helping individuals break free from cycles of crime and addiction. In the long term, I want to use my work to influence policy changes that address the root causes of criminal behavior and help build a more equitable and compassionate justice system. My passion stems from both personal experience and a deep belief in the inherent dignity of every person, regardless of the mistakes they’ve made. Growing up with a father who spent much of his life in prison, I witnessed firsthand the dehumanizing effects of the criminal justice system. Inmates are often treated as less than human, defined solely by their worst actions. This view not only perpetuates cycles but also ignores the complexities of mental health, trauma, and addiction that frequently contribute to criminal behavior. Through my own experiences witnessing my family's struggles, I’ve come to understand that many in the system are in desperate need of compassion, rehabilitation, and mental health support. My father’s time in prison, with the absence of meaningful rehabilitation opportunities, showed me that punishment without healing deepens the problem. The justice system often fails to address the underlying issues that lead to crimes in the first place—whether it be trauma, addiction, or untreated mental health disorders. I believe that by treating inmates with humanity, we can foster their rehabilitation, reduce recidivism, and help them reintegrate into society productively. Humane treatment of all inmates should focus on rehabilitation, healing, and reconciliation rather than retribution. The prison environment can be deeply traumatizing, and without proper treatment and empathy, it becomes nearly impossible for inmates to break the cycle of criminality. Being the first in my family to graduate college opens the potential for a legacy of lasting impact. I hope to make a difference and change things for those around me now, and in the future after I am long gone.

My experiences with mental health have profoundly shaped my personal and professional goals, relationships, and overall understanding of the world. Dealing with mental health challenges has taught me the importance of resilience, empathy, and the necessity of self-care. This journey has redefined how I approach my aspirations, how I connect with others, and how I view societal issues surrounding mental health. In terms of my goals, these experiences have motivated me to focus on mental health advocacy and support as a central part of my career in forensic psychology and correctional counseling. Witnessing the effects of untreated mental health issues, both in my own life and within my family, has made me passionate about promoting mental health resources, especially for marginalized or underserved populations. My career path is directly influenced by the desire to help others navigate their own mental health struggles, using the knowledge and empathy I’ve gained through my own experiences. I am committed to contributing to justice reform by integrating mental health support into the criminal justice system, recognizing that untreated mental health conditions are often a root cause of criminal behavior. My relationships have also been shaped by my mental health journey. Facing mental health struggles has deepened my empathy for others, particularly those dealing with trauma, anxiety, depression, or addiction. I am more attuned to the importance of open communication and emotional vulnerability in building meaningful relationships. Additionally, I’ve learned to set healthy boundaries and surround myself with people who contribute positively to my mental well-being, which has strengthened the quality of my relationships. My understanding of the world has evolved to include a broader perspective on the importance of mental health awareness and advocacy. I’ve come to see mental health not as an individual issue but as a societal one. Stigma, lack of resources, and systemic barriers often prevent individuals from seeking help or receiving adequate care. These insights have reinforced my belief that mental health needs to be integrated into broader discussions about social justice and healthcare access. My own journey has made me acutely aware of how mental health intersects with issues like poverty, addiction, and incarceration, further influencing my commitment to creating a more compassionate and supportive society. Through my experiences with mental health, I have profoundly shaped who I am, influencing my career goals, the way I relate to others, and how I view societal issues surrounding mental health. These challenges have given me purpose and the determination to advocate for change, both in my personal life and in the larger systems that affect individuals struggling with mental health issues

Addiction has profoundly shaped my life, beginning with the absence of both my parents, who were addicts. My father, in particular, spent most of my life in prison, and while he was physically removed from my day-to-day experience, this enabled my mother's addiction to crystal meth to spiral out of control. My entire family struggled with addiction, and it was nearly impossible to escape the destructive patterns that crystal meth created in our household. As a result, I fell into the same addiction for years starting at the young age of fourteen, which had a devastating impact on my mental and physical health, relationships, and future aspirations. Growing up in an environment where addiction was the norm made it difficult to understand what a healthy lifestyle looked like. The cycle of addiction seemed inescapable. There was no support system, no clear path to breaking free, and no one to show me the importance of sobriety. The isolation, emotional neglect, and instability in my family life contributed to my own struggles with substance abuse, as it became a way to numb the pain and cope with the chaos that surrounded me. However, over time, I realized that if I wanted to break this cycle of addiction, I had to take ownership of my life and make conscious decisions to change. I knew that continuing down the same path would only lead to the same devastating outcomes I had seen in my family. I began seeking help through rehabilitation programs, therapy, and support groups, which gave me the tools and strategies needed to start rebuilding my life. Therapy helped me address the underlying trauma that contributed to my addiction, while support groups provided a sense of community and accountability that I had been missing for so long. In my journey to maintain a clean and sober life, I have learned the importance of setting clear boundaries, distancing myself from toxic environments, and surrounding myself with positive influences. I am committed to continuous self-reflection and personal growth, ensuring that I remain aware of the triggers that could lead to relapse. To stay on this path, I will continue to participate in therapy, attend support group meetings, and engage in healthy activities that foster both physical and mental well-being. It has also helped aid in the spark of my passion towards helping others. I am pursuing a degree in correctional counseling so I may help vulnerable populations. My experience with addiction has taught me resilience, and breaking the cycle has become my life's mission. Staying clean and sober is not just about abstaining from substances; it’s about creating a life that is meaningful, fulfilling, and free from the burdens of addiction. I am determined to rewrite my story and build a future that is no longer defined by the pain and trauma of my past but by my strength, healing, and commitment to sobriety.

The experience of losing my father to prostate cancer at the age of 61 is deeply intertwined with the fact that he spent 16 years in prison for rape and murder. This complex part of my life has shaped my educational and career aspirations in profound ways. My father’s incarceration exposed me to the realities of the criminal justice system, its impact on families, and the societal challenges that arise from it. His death added another layer of complexity, prompting me to reflect not only on issues of crime and punishment but also on the psychological dimensions of criminal behavior, rehabilitation, and mental health support for both offenders and their families. The juxtaposition of my father’s illness and his criminal history has driven me toward a career in forensic psychology, with a particular focus on correctional counseling. I want to understand the factors that contribute to criminal behavior and the ways in which individuals like my father, who commit severe crimes, can be rehabilitated. His experience has shown me that the system is not just about punishment; it also involves addressing underlying mental health issues, trauma, and opportunities for transformation. My goal is to support individuals who are trying to rebuild their lives after incarceration, while also recognizing the heavy toll their actions have on victims and society. Witnessing the complexity of my father's life—the crimes he committed, the time he served, and the suffering he endured in his final years—has reinforced my commitment to justice reform. His journey made me realize the importance of mental health care and psychological interventions, both in prisons and in the wider community. As a result, I am driven to help offenders, like my father, understand and take responsibility for their actions while working toward their rehabilitation. At the same time, I seek to honor the victims and their families by advocating for a system that promotes fairness, accountability, and healing. In pursuing my bachelor’s degree in correctional counseling and aiming for a career as a forensic psychologist, I hope to contribute to creating a system where individuals are not defined solely by their worst mistakes but are given the tools to reform and reintegrate into society. By dedicating myself to this field, I feel that I can turn a painful and complicated personal history into a positive force for change, helping others navigate the challenging intersections of crime, justice, and mental health. I aim to make a lasting impact and to carry on the memory of my father and the good traits he held that I will forever carry with me.

My father's incarceration for rape has had a profound and multifaceted impact on my life, casting a long shadow over my formative years and shaping my outlook on trust, relationships, and personal responsibility. The stigma and emotional turmoil associated with his actions have been challenging to navigate, leading to feelings of anger, shame, and confusion. Growing up, I often felt isolated, carrying the burden of my father's crimes and the societal judgment that came with them. The most significant way his incarceration affected me was by challenging my sense of identity and self-worth. I had to confront the harsh reality of his actions and reconcile them with my own values and beliefs. This process involved a deep, sometimes painful, self-exploration to understand that I am not defined by his mistakes. I realized that I can balance some of the pain he caused others. It has driven me to strive for a life that reflects my principles of respect, empathy, and integrity. To avoid falling into similar circumstances, I have committed to making conscious and ethical choices in all aspects of my life. Education is a cornerstone and my father's choices serve as a driving force for my career path choice. I aim to be a forensic psychologist where I can help those who have committed similar crimes. This avenue also serves as a way for me to give back to those he wronged even if it is not directly. Forging a causeway where I can help others navigate their own challenges and break cycles of abuse and neglect. Additionally, I am committed to surrounding myself with positive influences and advocating for Prisoner's Rights. My advocacy work reminds me that even criminals who have done terrible things are still human beings and they are entitled to be treated with dignity and respect. Being constantly judged as a child for the mistakes of my father provided me with the courage to succeed in the face of adversity. I wanted to be a voice for those who do not have one. It is healing to make a difference in the lives of those society looks down upon. I want to be a small flicker of light in the darkest of places. Self-care has been a crucial aspect of coping with my father's incarceration. Meditation and journaling have provided me with the tools to manage stress and process complex emotions. Through meditation, I find moments of calm and clarity, helping me stay grounded and focused. Journaling serves as an outlet for expressing my thoughts and feelings, offering insights into my experiences and facilitating emotional healing. Seeking professional support has also been vital. Therapy has offered a safe space to explore my emotions, understand the impact of my father's actions, and develop coping strategies. As a person seeking to provide the same types of services to others, maintaining a healthy mentality is pertinent. Through counseling, I have learned to navigate feelings of anger, shame, and grief, fostering a healthier relationship with myself and my past. My father's incarceration has deeply affected my life, challenging my sense of identity and self-worth. To avoid similar circumstances, I am committed to ethical choices, education, and positive influences. Self-care measures, such as meditation, journaling, exercise, and therapy, have been crucial in coping with the emotional toll of his actions. By embracing these strategies, I strive to build a life defined by resilience, compassion, and integrity.

My story is a journey marked by complex emotions and personal growth, shaped significantly by the passing of my father. My father, a deeply troubled man with a history of violent and sexual criminal behavior, passed away due to addiction to opiates and prostate cancer. His life and death have profoundly impacted me, leading to a tumultuous emotional journey and a deeper understanding of myself and my aspirations. Navigating the emotions surrounding my father's passing has been challenging. Initially, I grappled with a mix of indiscernible feelings. He had been an addict since he was a teenager. It began with alcohol and progressed to heroin for nearly a decade before claiming his life. As a little girl, I always yearned for his approval. He could do no wrong in my eyes. After enduring a 15-year prison sentence where he was not present in my life, I always thought he was innocent. I discovered in the worst way possible that he was not when he molested me after he was released. The experience of having a father who was absent, violent, and a sex offender was very difficult for me to grasp growing up and it paved the way for who I would become in ways I never understood until a few years ago. I struggled with a pendulum of emotions ranging from rage to deep betrayal and denial. I struggled for decades when trying to navigate through them. Forgiveness ultimately lifted the overbearing weight from my heart. Meditation and journaling have been instrumental in my journey towards healing. Meditation has provided a space for me to calm my mind, process my emotions, and find inner peace amidst the chaos. It has helped me stay grounded and present, even when confronted with painful memories. On the other hand, journaling has been a therapeutic outlet for expressing my thoughts and emotions. It has allowed me to explore my feelings in a safe, private space, facilitating a deeper understanding of my experiences and helping me track my personal growth over time. Continuing my education and attending college is crucial in my journey of self-discovery and empowerment. I accredit my decision to become a forensic psychologist to my father, for he is the one who led me to realize my propensity to handle burdens and the desire to help others who commit similar offenses. The biggest influences in my life are a mix of personal connections and inspirational figures. My Nana, a pillar of strength and resilience, taught me the importance of perseverance and unconditional love. She is all that is best in me. My father is also a significant influence. Being a victim and child of his, I was given the gift of seeing things from a different perspective. I could see his crimes were fueled by an irresistible urge that he was not strong enough to withstand. This outlook allowed me to give him compassion where no one else would or could. The experience has ignited an unwavering passion to help find answers for those who commit such crimes. Research needs a different approach, like how I was gifted a different perspective. That idea fuels my drive. My father's passing has catalyzed profound personal growth. Through meditation, journaling, and the support of influential figures in my life, I have learned to navigate complex emotions, understand myself better, and forge a path toward a brighter future. Continuing my education is crucial to this journey, allowing me to build a life based on my terms and aspirations.

Understanding the nature of our universe has always been a magical fascination of mine, sparking a sense of wonder and curiosity that has shaped my worldview and aspirations. As a child, I remember gazing up at the night sky, mesmerized by the stars and the vastness beyond. This early fascination grew into a passion for science, investigation, and exploring a desire to unravel the mysteries of the cosmos. By delving into the universe's complexities, we expand our collective knowledge and embark on a profoundly personal journey to comprehend our place within it. We must adopt a multifaceted approach to better understand our universe, blending traditional scientific methods with innovative and interdisciplinary concepts. Imagine the awe-inspiring potential of merging quantum mechanics and general relativity, unlocking a unified theory of everything that could revolutionize our understanding of reality. Envision the power of quantum computing, a tool capable of modeling the intricate dance of particles and forces that shape our cosmos, revealing secrets hidden within the fabric of space and time. These advancements excite me, as they promise to unveil new dimensions of understanding that I have always yearned to explore. Picture a vast web of collaboration, weaving together astrophysics, biology, and artificial intelligence, each strand contributing to a richer understanding of our universe. Like an ever-watchful sentinel, AI can sift through the stardust of astronomical data, uncovering patterns and phenomena that might elude even the keenest human eyes. Astrobiology, with its quest to find life beyond Earth, offers glimpses into the delicate conditions necessary for life, guiding our search for extraterrestrial civilizations and shedding light on life's origins and potential futures. Consider the bold and imaginative concept of the multiverse, a cosmic tapestry of infinite universes, each with its unique laws and realities. Exploring such theories stretches the boundaries of our imagination, inviting us to ponder the very nature of existence and our place within a vast and mysterious expanse. These ideas resonate deeply with me, challenging our perceptions and inspiring a sense of limitless possibility. A holistic and open-minded approach, leveraging advanced technologies and cross-disciplinary collaboration, will be crucial in advancing our understanding of the universe. By doing so, we can push the boundaries of human knowledge, solve complex problems, and ultimately enhance our appreciation of the intricate and vast cosmos we inhabit. The journey to understand the universe is to understand ourselves and see our world as part of a grand and beautiful mosaic stretching beyond the stars. To illustrate the potential impact, consider how studying black holes has transformed our understanding of gravity and spacetime. The Event Horizon Telescope's recent capture of a black hole's image is a testament to human ingenuity and the power of global scientific cooperation. This breakthrough confirms predictions made by Einstein's theory of general relativity and opens new avenues for exploring the most extreme environments in the universe. Witnessing such milestones fills me with a sense of awe and hope, reinforcing my belief in the boundless potential of human endeavor. The search for exoplanets and the quest to find habitable worlds beyond our solar system symbolize our innate drive to explore and understand. The discovery of Earth-like planets in the habitable zones of distant stars fuels our imagination and expands our understanding of life's potential diversity. These endeavors underscore the importance of advanced technology, such as the Kepler Space Telescope and the upcoming James Webb Space Telescope, in unveiling the secrets of distant worlds. Knowing we are on the brink of discovering new frontiers in our cosmic neighborhood invigorates my passion for space exploration. Interdisciplinary research, such as the intersection of neuroscience and astrophysics, can provide novel insights into human cognition and our perception of the universe. For instance, studying how astronauts' brains adapt to space travel can reveal fundamental aspects of brain plasticity and human adaptability, with implications for long-term space exploration and potential colonization. The thought of humans adapting to and thriving in extraterrestrial environments is humbling and inspiring, reminding me of our resilience and ingenuity. Striving to understand the nature of our universe is a noble and essential pursuit that enriches our knowledge and enhances our lives. By embracing innovative technologies, fostering interdisciplinary collaboration, and exploring bold theories, we can unlock the mysteries of the cosmos and gain a deeper appreciation for the intricate and interconnected tapestry of existence. This journey satisfies our curiosity and reaffirms our place in a vast and awe-inspiring universe. As I continue to explore these cosmic wonders, I am reminded of my profound personal connection to the stars and the boundless possibilities they represent.

Success is objective, like a piece of art. How one person manifests it, the steps they take, the stumbles that sometimes become falls is unique to each individual and, in hindsight, is also a piece of art. Some might say success is achieving great wealth or fame. Others might say success entails conquering the critical milestones in life at the expected times and doing as is expected. I find success is something different. Sure, great wealth and fame may appear desirable, but if you've no one to share or enjoy it with, it could easily resemble hell. Achieving milestones in life might be very fulfilling, but if you're not true to yourself and following your heart or pursuing your dreams, then undoubtedly, you will feel emptier than ever. In my eyes, the first key to success is knowing what is valuable in life, and it is not money. The true worth in life lies in connection: connecting with others, creating meaningful experiences, connecting with your true self, and finding your potential. Wealth lies in knowledge, acceptance, and respect. Learning that everyone is different and that it takes the good, the bad, the happy, and the sad to bring peace genuinely. Pain brings joy. If you did not experience pain, how could you know joy? Accept who you are and appreciate what you have to offer. Then, accept the person next to you and enjoy what they offer. Respect life of all varieties. You do not need to know or agree with another person's lifestyle or opinions to respect them. The second key to success is to fail. I know that sounds backward, but hear me out. No one reaches the point of triumph without failing at least once first. Step out of your comfort zone. If you spend your days continually doing things you already know, you are not growing or developing. Every victorious story about overcoming obstacles requires blood, sweat, tears, and hard work beyond measure. It makes the victory that much sweeter. It makes the fight worth fighting. Those are the stories of wars won, even if a battle or two was lost. The last key to success is remembering not to compare yourself and your progress with that of others. You are different people on different life paths. What is suitable for you at a certain age or time may not be ideal for someone else, which is okay. Know yourself, and be solid in who you are. People will talk, they will make comments, they will judge. Let them and, on the contrary, do not judge them in return. They judge in the first place because they are not happy with themselves. Your job is to worry about where you're headed; there is no time to judge another. Success can mean many things to many people. But, to me, success is connections, finding joy in pain, and creating enriching experiences with others and yourself. It's about being true to yourself and what you find fulfilling in this life. Success is knowing that with every failure, you are that much closer to reaching your goal and using that fact to fuel your journey. It's about holding your head up high during times of uncertainty or when the entire world might judge your every move. Keep moving with intention and determination, come into who you are meant to be, and see your path's impact on this world.

As a child of a violent sex offender, I know too well how society views others who commit crimes. I grew up being stared at and understanding the whispers I heard behind me were about my dad. It was bad enough to grow up without having a father figure in my life but knowing the reason I did not was because he was a rapist and a murderer was not a childhood that any other child I knew experienced. I learned at a very early age of the stigma a prison sentence can carry on not just the offender but his entire family. It created a wound that I was not aware existed. A wound that was gaping and went decades without being mended. If being a child of someone who had committed such dishonorable and unethical acts was not large enough of a weight to bear when I turned seventeen, my father was released, and within a year, I became one of his victims. I had no idea that there was a purpose for me to experience such an unfair event. I had no clue that purpose would also heal me until about fifteen years later, shortly after my father had passed. One of the silver linings of being a child of a person like my father was that I grew up seeing all people as human beings. I never judged anyone by their situation or looked down upon them for mistakes they had made. I believed that everyone had good inside them somewhere, and my mindset was always that no matter how awful a person acted, someone out there liked and probably loved them for a good reason. Last year, my husband went to prison. I stuck by his side because I was someone out there somewhere who loved him for a good reason. While he was in prison he contracted Covid. Instead of receiving medical treatment, he was thrown into solitary confinement, stripped of his clothing, and given nothing but a paper spoon to eat with. They did not even provide him with toilet paper. He had a fever and had to resort to lying naked in a cell covered in fecal matter and someone else's blood. Someone called me on his behalf and informed me what was happening, and I was sick to my stomach. I called the facility and inquired as to why he was being met with punishment for an illness and was told, "He is not being punished; he's getting 23 and 1." This meant he was on a 23-hour lockdown. They hung up on me. I repeatedly called to get an answer, and each time, I was disconnected without answers. I called the internal investigative dept. And complained. Within 12 hours, he was released from there, and then I began to hear more and more stories about other prisoners like this. I made complaints for everyone. A few days later, the warden called me to inform me he looked into my complaints and found each one valid. He said solitary would be temporarily shut down and all complaints eradicated. I received call after call from grateful inmates, nearly crying and thanking me for treating them like humans. I started to sob, thinking how my dad would have been so proud of me and how I was proud of myself. I started my prisoner's rights advocacy with that single incident and made a difference. I began to heal. It begins with caring. It begins with seeing the good. It starts with one person taking a chance and others to see its effect.

My dream is to become a forensic psychologist. The experiences in my life have ignited a fire inside of me that roars with purpose, and I refuse to allow any obstacle to snuff it out. Getting here took a 35-year journey through a personal hell resembling a life story. That torturous journey was necessary, or I never would have understood what I do now. My father was a man who committed several acts of horror. These acts ran deep, in large quantity, and hurt more than I know of. My mother told me my dad tried to cut me out of her stomach when she was pregnant. He beat her so severely that she couldn't even open her eyes. After I was born, he would keep her from tending to me when I cried in my crib. Sometimes, he would not let her go to me for hours. I learned to self-soothe as a tiny baby. I found it very hard to believe these stories because I could not recall any memories of my father being anything other than loving and funny. I was a daddy's girl. I did not have many memories as my father was incarcerated when I was one year old and was not released until I was nearly 17. He was imprisoned for rape and a registered tier 3 sex offender. Of course, I knew my dad did not rape anyone. That's what he told me, and he would not dare lie. It wasn't until he was released and I moved in with him that the horrific truth of his identity began to unfold. Not but a couple of months after I moved in, he molested me. It broke my heart. I had wholeheartedly believed my dad was framed all those years. He started treating me terribly, and I was so confused, for I had never done him wrong. I eagerly forgave him because I so desperately wanted my father's love. But, for years and years after, I carried the wounds with me and was very self-destructive. It was not until my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that I could see. This was the best thing to have ever happened to him. It spread to his spine, and he became paralyzed. This event changed my father. For the first time in my life, in his life- he treated others (women especially) like human beings. He was genuinely kind and considerate and seemed to gain a personality in areas that previously held a void. I suddenly realized that my dad wasn't evil. He was deeply afflicted. Looking back, I could understand that his behavior was fueled by urges that consumed him worse than any addiction, and they controlled him like a tortured puppet. I saw a different perspective on everything. He didn't like being that way, so the terrible things he did manifested in the ways they did. It was self-loathing, and he could not help himself. I decided that I wanted to help others with these urges. I realized that we don't know what will help these types of offenders, nor do we have the resources. My goal became to understand why or how these urges affect some people and try to pave the road to help them. This is the best way to help any future potential victims. We need to try a new approach, see things in a different light, and try to show compassion. I realized that though their victims are affected, so are the ones committing these atrocities.

The Millenial-Gen Z generation is born with an inherent understanding of ideals and values that sit on a higher thought process than previous generations. With the acceptance and supportive stances on gender issues and the explosion of the open LGBTQ community, it seems this generation has a deep understanding of human value rooted in being who you feel comfortable being. It is positive in its steadfast direction in moving forward. It is empowering and encompasses unconditional love and the practice of judging less. It's a generation that emphasizes mental health and speaks of trauma in a way that has never been done before. Most would say it is a vast difference compared to past generations. Some might even agree they are polar opposite from any other generation we have seen. Is it different, though? Did the Millenial-Gen Z generation forms its way of thinking, unified acceptance, tech-savvy futuristic visions, and "we got this!" attitudes on their own? It may seem they have, but I beg to differ. As a millennial, I have noticed a few things about the generation I am part of. Many of us came from homes where our parents were not equipped to provide what they had (or didn't have) growing up. I am not speaking only in terms of material or financial stability. A lot of us were dealt with unstable homes emotionally. Those who did not experience these hardships often faced hardships later in life, from being sheltered to being fortunate enough not to have a toxic household. When I was a child, my parents were all but absent. My father spent my entire childhood in prison, and my mom battled addiction and domestic violence. Eventually, my grandmother raised me. In fact, many kids I knew lived with their grandparents. That's right, a good chunk of my generation was raised by The Silent Generation or Baby Boomers. One of my grandmothers was from the Greatest Generation. Because of these intertwined connections, it becomes pretty logical how the Millenial-Gen Z generation turned out to be such a pioneer generation. With age comes wisdom, they say. The same story has been told for as long as time has allowed it—the story of the older generation becoming embittered by the ways of the younger generation. The younger generation laughs at their crotchety ramblings of how the old days were better. The older generation was infuriated at the lack of respect shown, swearing they never acted that way at that age! I think the Millenial-Gen Z generation has an impactful effect because the generations of old primarily raised this generation. When the older generations raised their kids, they were chasing the American Dream. They worked hard; they did what they were supposed to. They saw the world go through horrendous and desperate times with little hope. They lived through it, and maybe the pain from all that was too grave to discuss, so they didn't. Instead, they just built futures equipped with every precaution to prevent their children from living through the same hardships. That was how they showed their love. They did not express it in words because they were hardened by the world's dark times, and it was just a different time. But, in doing so, their children were introduced to a life of convenience without understanding its convenience. So they created problems to have, like addiction and other issues. This led to a lot of my generation being raised by their grandparents who had no choice but to see precisely how a generation like the Millenial-Gen Z is born, bred, and matured. The kids of this generation were nurtured in some form by the older generations, and the older generations accepted things they would never have with their kids, like being gay or trans. The same generation who would instill shame in their children is the same generation who would promote individuality and display unconditional love in their grandchildren. With age came wisdom and also, likely, regret. When the opportunity to possibly right a wrong of the past presented itself, maybe they took it. Maybe it was conscious. Maybe it was not. These small moments in bits of time show that no generation is stuck in one time. Adapting is imminent and influential. My generation has adopted many values from the generations our grandparents belonged to, like hard work, responsibility, resiliency, and caring for those we love. But the relationship forged between the old and the new generations brought forth unconditional love, the idea that anything is possible, following your dreams, and the understanding that some things are more important than money. And the older generation shared their stories with us. The despair, cruelty, and horror of things like war and judging others for their religion, race, or sexuality. They allowed us to see into that window of sorrow they silently carried for too long. This allowed our generation to empathize, stripped us of our judgments more, and showed us that hate is not good for anyone. We needed them, and they needed us. Their stories, their regrets, their realizations with age gave us the courage to pave a new road for the future of all humans.

The dream version of my future self is a fiercely tenacious, but understanding and non-judgemental, diplomatic person who bridges the gaps in society that keep humans from evolving and working together to lift each other up and improve life for all creatures on this planet.

The great thing about America is, you can find and make your way to the top. It doesn't matter how impoverished, deprived, or lacking in opportunity you may appear. If a person wants something and they focus and put all they have into achieving it, the goal can and will be theirs. This fact has been revealed in the lives of so many people, from Rosa Parks to Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and shows itself again when the many fight for the few and overcome that which most would have otherwise thought impossible. That is truly what makes America great, the chance to stand alone against your adversaries and find the courage to stand tall, the strength to persevere, and the will to keep trying and not back down. A change I feel is necessary in this country is the view Americans as well as those who work in the corrections administration both view and treat inmates. It is often inhumane, and abusive, and only breaks the spirit of those who are already bearing the internal burden of their mistakes. Whether a person has or has not committed a crime, does not warrant their life being devalued, or their worth and potential rendered nonexistent. This mindset is hateful, and shameful, and needs to change. Society does it over and over and never stops to look within. It does not matter what action a person has been accused or convicted of, basic humanity should not be deprived from anyone. I want to invoke each person who reads this to ask themselves this if you committed a crime -there should be no weight of your decision based on the severity of the crime for it is irrelevant- do you think that means you should be treated like the scum of the Earth? Does it warrant you not receiving appropriate care for your well-being and safety? What if you were innocent, truly? See, this is why the severity of the crime is irrelevant as there are so many innocent people imprisoned and so many guilty people still walking the streets. Yet, the guilty free man walks the streets and receives a treatment consisting of respect, consideration, and value at a higher level than an imprisoned innocent person. Prison conditions in America are overall deplorable. We rob inmates of their Quality of Life, of their hope, and break their spirits. They do not receive adequate care in terms of nutrition, health, or resources to improve their behaviors. They are treated like animals and often worse than that. I want to change this by advocating for their humanity. It cannot promote good behavior or reduce recidivism rates to cause further shame, pain, and commit abuse towards another person for any reason.

My plan comes from a very personal point. My reason for existing, every struggle that I have yet had to face, and the core of who I am as a person can be traced back to criminal justice. My father was in prison from the time I was a year old and was not released until I was seventeen. He was convicted of rape and was a murderer. Growing up was filled with visit after visit to a maximum security prison. At the time, I had no idea visiting your father in prison was not a normal event for every other child. It wasn't until later on in my life that it was revealed to me as abnormal. I recall entering the visiting room as a little girl. I was always forced to dress up which I hated but looking back I could see the significance. It was to remind my dad of the innocence that still existed in the world, while his immediate surroundings displayed anything but. When I would walk in the visitation area, I would always wave and say hello to anyone on my pathway because I was so social. All the men always waved back and went out of their way to smile at me. Many of them would comment to me how great of a guy my dad was. Whether they felt that way, I will never know. It wasn't until looking back on these memories when I was much older that I realized something. All of those men were prisoners in a maximum security prison. This meant they committed violent or sexual crimes in nature. As a child, I never thought twice that they had done something wrong to be sitting there. It wasn't the way I thought. But, it dawned on me that regardless of the potentially horrible things they might have done to end up in there when I came to see my dad, they went out of their way to make me feel proud of my dad. They did whatever they could to make me feel like a normal little girl if only for a few hours. It was then that I understood they were not monsters the way society and even the corrections officers often treat and view them. They were human beings. Human beings that everyone else had given up on. Humans made mistakes and though some of those mistakes were great, it didn't mean they were less valuable than anyone else. This very philosophy that I hold so dear to my heart came to be my calling. I am meant to give inmates a voice. To advocate for their rights, and their chance to have quality of life, even if that is during incarceration. I want to change the corrections system to stop treating inmates like they are unworthy of being treated humanely. For, how could that possibly encourage anyone to reform? If you want to instill change positively, you cannot plant seeds of hatred in the heart of man. You will not receive the results you seek.

My father is the entire reason I've chose my career path. Though I grew up only knowing him through visiting him in prison, his choices have greatly affected my life. He was a convicted rapist and a murderer. He was my dad and the only one I knew. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer and passed away two days after turning 61. His life and passing gave me no choice but to fight and work for everything I've ever obtained. He is my reason for choosing a career path in criminal justice. I want others to see that though I am the spawn of someone who made monstrous choices, I am not him. I have always felt partially responsible for his horrible choices and want to fight for those who cannot speak for themselves. I want to give back. I want to positively change things in the justice system and impact lives in a much greater way that he did, and I want it to come from a place of good and selflessness as opposed to selfishness and cruelty. I want to find a way to apologize to society by burning brighter than any dark he exuded. I want to find a reason why these things happen and I want to do what the justice system was meant to do: help and reform.