For six years, I endured many challenges that made my decision to attend an HBCU very easy. Resilience, dedication, and emotional strength are all traits I have gained while being a member of my school's varsity tennis team. As a member of our school's tennis team, I dealt with recurrent images, thoughts, and words. "You can't do it." "You aren't good enough." "Why are you wasting your time." As I race across the court to get to the next ball, I anticipate all that rides on the first stroke. Although my focus should be to get the next ball over the net, I can't help but think about these things. As my head is drowning, I forget to swing, and the ball rushes by me. My opponent cheers while the intrusive thoughts flood my mind. Again, I toss the ball and crash my racket into the ball. It's an ace. "Yes!" I screamed, but it never seemed enough. When I tried out for the tennis team as a sixth-grader, I recognized that I would be the only person of color on the team. Along with the feelings of isolation, I also dealt with prejudice and stereotypes because of my skin color. Choosing an HBCU has changed my definition of resilience, dedication, and emotional strength. Daily, I see tangible reminders of the resilience of descendants of the African diaspora. I see faculty and alumna dedicated to serving and cultivating the next generation of community advocates and leaders. My HBCU has also exposed me to my community's incredible determination and emotional strength. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn and grow at an HBCU.

Resilience, dedication, and emotional strength are all traits I gained while being a member of my high school's varsity tennis team. It came from dealing with recurrent images, thoughts, and words. "You can't do it." "You aren't good enough." "Why are you wasting your time." As I race across the tennis court to get to the next ball, I anticipate all that rides on the first stroke of my racquet. Although my focus should be to get the next ball over the net, I can't help but think about these things. As my head is drowning in my thoughts, I forget to swing, and the ball rushes by me. My opponent cheers while the intrusive thoughts flood my mind. "Focus," I tell myself. "I have to be ready for the next point." It's my serve. I toss the ball and crash my racket into the ball. It's an ace. "Yes!" I screamed, but it never seemed enough. In the four years I played tennis, I constantly battled with these thoughts as I continued to contribute my best effort. Furthermore, my battle with being the only minority, my extreme dedication to playing tennis, and the inspiration I give to others allowed me to be the first African American male on my varsity high school tennis team. When I tried out for the tennis team as a sixth-grader, I recognized that I would be the only person of color on the team. However, I failed to realize the harsh effects of my decision. I didn't know the isolation I would feel for the next six years. I struggled to speak to them about culturally unique things to the African American community. Along with the feelings of isolation, I also have to deal with prejudice and stereotypes because of my skin color. Because I am the only minority, some teammates are comfortable saying the "N-word" or other expletives. No matter how I respond, I would be labeled the angry kid with temper problems. Every day I face these challenges that hinder my path to success. I credit some of my successes to these challenges. From my experiences, I've learned that tennis stretches far beyond the court. Tennis has taught me resilience, dedication, and emotional strength. I have learned to drown out the voices within my head and from outside forces that look to weaken who I am as a person and athlete. I have learned to allow my efforts on the court to speak for me. The lessons I have learned on the court translate into other aspects of my life when I face a new challenge, seem to be the underdog, or seem to be in a space where I don't or should not belong. I wouldn't be the person I am today without experiencing these challenging situations. When we fail but keep trying, we grow as human beings. Quitting is a victory for those who are committed to stagnation.