It’s shameful to be vulnerable. I grew up believing vulnerability and emotional downpour were feelings to suppress. So all I could do was confide in my little diary, writing all my thoughts and feelings and locking them up where no one could see them. It was exhausting, yes, but it was better than letting someone in on all your pain and silent sufferings, or so I thought. The first time I saw my deskmate Abby break down in silence in high school was not because she failed a test; it was because she couldn’t afford to take one. She sat beside me in our crowded classroom in southeastern Nigeria, her pencil still, her eyes wet. The look in her eyes reflected sadness and tiredness, and my heart sank. I later learned she’d been unable to pay her school fees and would be forced to repeat the year. She didn’t cry loudly, but I heard her silence. We all did, and we all said nothing. That moment stayed with me. I began to notice how many students, especially girls, were navigating invisible battles. Pressure. Shame. Emotional exhaustion. In our schools, mental health wasn’t a valued topic; it was seen as a weakness. There were no counselors, so to speak, no safe spaces, and certainly no vocabulary for what so many of us felt. And yet we were expected to keep going, unbroken. Years later, that memory evolved into a mission. Today, I’m addressing the social issue of mental health neglect in underserved communities by building Echoes, a mental wellness platform designed for students like me. Echoes offers culturally relevant affirmations, mood tracking, and journaling features tailored to environments where mental health services are limited or stigmatized. It’s not meant to replace professional help, but to create a bridge where none exists. I’m refining the prototype with input from students across two universities, many of whom have expressed how deeply they would’ve benefited from a resource like this in their school years. For some, Echoes is the first space where they’ve felt seen emotionally. That alone makes it worth building. But my use of technology to address social issues doesn’t stop with mental health. In 2024, I co-led a team at the Moguls in the Making pitch competition, where we developed Little Genius, an AI-powered literacy tool for children in Detroit. The platform identifies early reading struggles and delivers personalized content to close gaps before they grow. Our solution won first place and underscored my belief that the most effective technology is rooted in empathy. Both Echoes and Little Genius are grounded in one purpose: to give voice to those often left out of the conversation. Whether that’s a child falling behind in school or a student hiding quiet anxiety, my work is focused on creating tools that don’t just function; they respond, listen, and care. I’m a Computer Science major at Philander Smith University, maintaining a 4.0 GPA while developing software development, AI, and user-centered design skills. My lived experience navigating a system with limited resources, coping with cultural silence around mental health, and pushing forward without a roadmap informs every line of code I write. Echoes and Little Genius are not just projects. They answer the silence I once kept locked away in my diary. They prove that vulnerability is not weakness but the start of change. What began as quiet suffering has become a voice, a tool, a platform for students like that girl in my classroom, and for the version of myself who believed it was shameful to be seen. I now build what I once needed.

My name is Jennifer Obinwanne, a rising Junior at Philander Smith University, majoring in Computer Science. I come from a humble background in Nigeria, and my life has been shaped by perseverance, purpose, and the desire to make a meaningful difference in the world. I’m a purpose-driven and compassionate individual, deeply committed to helping others and finding fulfillment in service. My year as Health Overseer in my Nigerian high school stands as one of the early moments when I realized how much joy I found in contributing to my community. I have faced many challenges in life, and honestly, recounting them can trigger a surge of sad emotions. However, the most significant challenge I have had to overcome is navigating the complexities of being a poor, struggling Nigerian student whose passion drove me to study abroad. Growing up in an Underdeveloped country, born into a low-income household, made me face numerous obstacles from limited access to quality education, to financial constraints (which I am still encountering), and social expectations. However, my determination to pursue a quality higher education abroad to realize my life dreams drove me to persevere. Being a girl-child also made life miserable, as a result of the unfair marginalization of the female gender in Africa. I overcame these challenges by seeking guidance from mentors, role models, educators, and Philanthropists who believed in my potential. My dreams are big. If I could do anything with my life, I would become a software engineer, a mentor, and an innovator. I want to build technology that connects people to resources and opportunities, especially those in underserved communities. I envision launching a global health and wellness platform that is accessible to everyone, regardless of race, gender, or class—something meaningful and impactful that reflects my values and experiences. I believe that everyone deserves a fair shot at a good life, and I plan to use STEM as my tool to bridge the gap between access and opportunity. STEM fascinates me because it's the perfect blend of innovation, creativity, and real-world problem-solving. I’m especially passionate about how technology can improve healthcare, education, and sustainability. Whether it’s using IT to enhance climate monitoring or designing systems that support remote healthcare in rural areas, I’m committed to creating solutions that truly make a difference. Africa, for example, is rich in potential but often lacks the technological structure to turn that potential into progress. I believe that with the right tools and mindset, we can change that narrative. Getting to this point hasn’t been easy. I had to navigate the complexities of studying abroad on a very limited budget. There were moments when I didn’t know how I would afford school or where to turn for support. But I kept pushing—earning good grades, applying for scholarships, and reaching out to mentors and philanthropists who saw promise in me. I remember receiving a monetary award that helped me pay my tuition for the year. That act of kindness fueled me to keep going, knowing that someone believed in my dreams. As I continue my studies in the United States, I carry with me the hopes of my family, my community, and every young girl who has ever been told her dreams were too big. My goal is to make the most of this opportunity, not just for myself, but for the countless others I hope to uplift through my journey.

There’s a quiet strength in learning how to walk through life with your head held high, even when the world around you tells you to shrink. I come from a lineage of women who carry their dreams in silence. Women who taught me, without words, how to stretch one meal into three, how to turn sorrow into song, and how to find light in the thickest dark. My name is Jennifer Obinwanne, born into a world where the odds were not in my favor, but my spirit never stopped wrestling with possibility. I am a first-generation college student, an international student, a daughter, a sister, and a believer in what can be. Growing up in Nigeria, I saw brilliance stifled by broken systems—children with big ideas but no resources, families with strong hands but no opportunities. I was one of them. There were days I doubted myself—days where survival took precedence over dreams. I remember sitting by candlelight, reading hand-me-down textbooks while power flickered off again. I remember my mother’s prayers. My father’s calloused hands. Their hopes rested on my shoulders. I was fragile, not because I was weak, but because I carried the weight of becoming something more. Coming to America for college was not just a change in geography; it was a shift in destiny. I chose to attend Philander Smith University, an HBCU, not fully knowing how deeply it would change me. What I found was a home. A place where my skin, my voice, and my ideas were not just tolerated, but needed. My professors didn’t just teach—they poured into me. My peers didn’t just study—we dreamed together. There’s something deeply powerful about being in a space that tells you: you belong. It gave me room to breathe, to stretch, to question, to lead. At my HBCU, I discovered that technology could be more than code and data. It could be activism. It could be storytelling. It could be healing. From developing an app that helps users find affordable housing to using AI to address literacy gaps in underserved communities, I’ve begun crafting solutions that speak to the lived realities of people like me. I’m no longer just the girl with the big dreams and no map. I’m building the road. But empowerment doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a slow awakening. It happens in the late nights, debugging code that just won’t run. It happens in those vulnerable moments when you pitch your idea to a room full of strangers and still believe in it. It happens when you lose, regroup, and still dare to show up again. I’ve cried in silence after rejections. I’ve felt the sting of imposter syndrome. But I’ve also stood before CEOs and leaders, sharing my vision with confidence I once thought impossible. Attending an HBCU means I don’t walk this path alone. It means I’m backed by generations of Black scholars who broke barriers so that I could build bridges. It means that when I speak, I echo voices that were once silenced. It means that every “yes” I earn is a step toward closing the racial wealth gap, toward creating access, toward making the tech industry more inclusive. My choice to study Computer Science wasn’t just about career prospects. It was about legacy. I want to use my skills to uplift the communities that raised me. To build systems that prioritize people over profit. To create tech that’s ethical, accessible, and transformative. Whether I’m mentoring young girls who look like me, building platforms that support small businesses, or using data to drive social impact, I want my work to mean something. For my family, I am the blueprint—the first to navigate this path. For my younger siblings, I am the reminder that yes, it’s possible. For my community—both in Nigeria and in America—I want to be a vessel for change, not just through my success, but through my service. Because the truth is, I’m still becoming and still learning how to carry both my softness and my strength. Still figuring out how to hold space for others while chasing what sets my soul on fire. But I no longer fear the weight of my dreams, where I once saw my fragility as a flaw, I now see it as a form of faith. And if my story teaches anything, let it be this: That even the most fragile beginnings can birth the fiercest futures, when watered with hope, community, and the courage to try again.

In my first year, during a discussion in my "Ethics in Society" class, Dr. Williams paused, looked around the room, and asked, "What do you think is the most dangerous invention in human history?" Hands went up. Someone said the atomic bomb, another mentioned artificial intelligence, and a few whispered social media. Dr. Williams nodded, then said quietly, "No. The most dangerous invention is indifference." Not in my young mind would I have thought that. I kept pondering those words for the rest of the day after class. I don't know what struck me more—how he challenged our assumptions with one quiet statement, or how his answer made me reconsider what truly drives the world forward or holds it back. That day marked a shift in how I saw technology. I no longer consider it a set of tools or a career path. I started asking deeper questions: What kind of systems am I building, and who am I creating them for? As a Computer Science major at Philander Smith University, my goal isn't just to write code or build cool features. It's to design tools that mean something to the people using them. I want to work as a software engineer focused on creating inclusive and meaningful user experiences. I am particularly interested in front-end development because it brings me closer to the user, where I can shape how someone feels when interacting with technology. One of the most meaningful projects I've worked on is XploreEase, a mobile app I co-developed. The goal was to provide users affordable dining, housing, and entertainment options tailored to their budget and location. I built key features like the budget input system and the cuisine filter, and I also worked on debugging the map and chatbot to improve their reliability. After several rounds of refinement, we scaled the app to support over 500 users at once and increased overall stability by more than 95%. But to me, it wasn't just a coding project—it was a way to make everyday life easier for people navigating limited resources. Outside computer science, I care deeply about mentorship, education access, and systems change. As a Student Ambassador for the HBCU Founders Initiative (HBCUFI), I help connect students to entrepreneurial resources and foster spaces where they can learn, share ideas, and grow together. That same mission shaped my experience during the Moguls in the Making competition. I led my team in developing Little Genius—a solution designed to expand early learning access in Detroit. Our goal was to improve long-term economic mobility by tackling low reading proficiency among K–12 students. And we didn’t just pitch the idea—we built the product, refined the model, and ultimately won first place out of ten HBCUs. All of these experiences have taught me that technology is most powerful when it's built with empathy. My long-term goal is to create tools that bring access, opportunity, and real solutions to often overlooked communities. I don't see my interest in social good and education as separate from computer science. They drive the kind of engineer I want to become. I want to build tools that break down barriers to create access where there wasn't before. I'm learning more about front-end technologies, user-centered design, and ethical product development approaches. Every new experience adds another layer to the kind of developer I'm becoming—someone who codes not just with logic but with intentionality. I still carry Dr. Williams's words with me. Indifference might be the most dangerous invention. But honest and intentional care might be the most powerful. And that's what I hope my work in computer science reflects.

I’m majoring in Computer Science, but honestly, it wasn’t love at first sight. In my early years as a high schooler, the prestige of being a medical doctor drew me towards medicine. As a kid, the thought of wearing a white coat and being called “Doctor” really appealed to me; Hilariously, I was particularly motivated by Ben Carson´s “Gifted Hands,” just as most Medical students from my locality. But as I got older, I realized my reasons weren’t deep enough to sustain a lifelong career in medicine. Plus, to be honest, I could not even stand laboratory Rats being asphyxiated, nor the sight of blood, and these were unmistakable signs that medicine was not my path. So, I turned to Computer Science, a field that struck me as exciting and full of potential to make a real difference. My interest started in a pretty fun way—through those high-stakes hacking scenes in action movies. It amazed me how someone could type out a few lines of code and suddenly have access to secret data or prevent a disaster. As I learned more about what coding actually involves, my fascination only grew. Choosing Computer Science also meant stepping into a field where not many women are seen due to the fact that it is predominantly studied by male folks. Aside from my passion for technology, I saw it as a challenge to myself and the entire Female gender. Sincerely, the versatility and countless opportunities in this career convinced me. This field not only allows me to explore my creativity but also challenges me to innovate and solve problems efficiently. As a lady who is goal-oriented, the constantly evolving field of computer science allows me to develop and implement ideas that would bring lasting solutions to problems in diverse industries such as Healthcare, finance, education, entertainment, and Security. In addition, the numerous skills acquired after years of study in a standard computer science degree can be integrated into various roles and industries. The curriculum equips a Computer science graduate with problem-solving and logical thinking skills that are practically invaluable in today’s technology-driven world. In other words, the service of a computer scientist is practically employable anywhere in the world. In short, switching to Computer Science was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It’s a field that’s constantly changing and always challenging, and it gives me a chance to make a big impact. This scholarship would help me take full advantage of all the opportunities and move forward with my dream of making a difference through technology.