Persuasion entered my life not through a textbook but through a jar of peach preserves. At twelve I stood beside my grandmother’s folding table at the Marietta flea market, watching her turn strangers into loyal customers armed with nothing more than a sunrise-colored smile and a story about picking fruit at dawn. She offered a free taste, asked where people were from, and—almost magically—made them feel that buying a jar was less a transaction than a small partnership in a sweeter world. I did not yet know the vocabulary of “value proposition” or “customer journey,” but I memorized something more foundational: good sales is an act of generosity that starts with curiosity about another human being. That lesson has followed me to Wharton, where I co-founded CultivatED, an AI-powered platform that personalizes SAT preparation for students the mainstream system overlooks. Building a start-up is part engineering, part caffeinated endurance, yet the heartbeat is marketing. I spend more time turning algorithms into human-sized promises than writing code— crafting a 15-second TikTok that swaps test anxiety for confidence, or an email sequence that transforms “I’m not a good test taker” into “I just hit my target score.” Each iteration reminds me that data points alone are inert until a story animates them. My decision to pursue a career in sales and marketing is therefore equal parts heritage and hypothesis. Heritage because I descend from storytellers who sustained our family by convincing communities to believe in possibility—whether that meant peach preserves in Georgia or, a generation earlier, fresh okra at a roadside stand in South Carolina. Hypothesis because I have seen, both in the classroom and in the trenches of a fledgling venture, how analytics and empathy can collide to solve problems at scale. Marketing is where left-brain rigor courts right-brain imagination, where A/B tests meet archetypes, and where purpose can be priced, packaged, and delivered to the people who need it most. Three forces keep my passion ignited: 1. The democratizing power of narrative. A well-crafted message can reach a student in Lagos as easily as a recruiter on Wall Street, redistributing opportunity at the speed of a share button. 2. The puzzle of behavior. Every campaign is a living experiment in human psychology. Tweaking copy, color, or timing and watching click-through rates behave like real-time vote tallies thrills the scientist in me. 3. The moral imperative. Technology without thoughtful marketing is potential unrealized. I want to be the translator who ensures innovations—whether adaptive learning software or clean energy—actually touch the people they are built for. Ultimately, sales and marketing sit at the intersection of empathy and execution. They force me to listen harder, think sharper, and act bolder. They demand resilience—every “no” a data point, every pivot a fresh hypothesis—and grant the privilege of turning abstract value into tangible change. One of my grandmother’s empty jars still sits on my desk. It reminds me that even the most sophisticated strategy begins with a simple invitation: Come, taste what I’ve made for you. My career in sales and marketing is my way of extending that invitation—this time, to the world.

I used to think resilience meant holding everything together. Showing up with a smile. Saying "I'm fine" even when you’re not. But I’ve since learned that real resilience is sometimes messy—it cries in the bathroom during midterms, it pauses, it grieves, and somehow, it still keeps moving. Last fall, I lost my grandmother to cancer. She wasn’t just my rock—she was the blueprint. My second mother. The woman who taught me that purpose is bigger than pride, and that no matter how chaotic the world feels, you can always offer someone warmth—through a meal, a story, or a small act of kindness. I carry her voice with me: “Do what you came to do, baby, and do it with heart.” That voice echoed in my head the first time I stepped into a pitch competition room as the founder of my startup CultivatED. I was 18, wide-eyed, and the only Black student in the room. But I walked in anyway—because my grandmother didn’t raise me to shrink. She raised me to serve. CultivatED is my way of doing that. It’s an EdTech platform that uses AI to personalize test prep for underserved students—especially Black youth—using culturally responsive learning tools. It’s education that sees students for who they are, not just who they’re expected to be. My passion for educational equity didn’t start in a classroom. It started on long car rides with my grandmother, where she’d point out schools in disrepair and say, “These kids deserve better.” It deepened when I joined the National Black MBA Association’s case competition in high school and saw how access could change everything. It came full circle when I founded CultivatED, blending my love for innovation with the soul of my community. But chasing dreams isn’t always poetic. Some days it looks like imposter syndrome at 2 a.m. Other days it’s rejections, restarts, and the guilt of trying to carry grief and ambition at the same time. And yet—here I am. Still moving. Still creating. Still believing in something better. That’s why Sloane Stephens’ story speaks to me so deeply. Competing at the highest levels while staying rooted in community and family? That’s the balance I hope to live. I see my own dreams reflected in hers—not because I’m on a tennis court, but because I’m in a fight of my own. To make space. To build access. To uplift those coming behind me. This scholarship wouldn’t just support my education—it would honor a legacy I hold sacred. The legacy of my grandmother, who believed education could change everything. The legacy of Sloane’s Doc & Glo—resilience, kindness, and self-belief stitched into every fiber. And the legacy I’m building, one student, one story, one startup at a time. So here I am, doing what I came to do. And yes, I’m doing it with heart.

I don’t believe the business world needs more Black excellence. We’ve always had that. What it needs now is more Black ownership—of ideas, of institutions, of capital, and of narrative. I plan to use my education to help make that happen. At Wharton, I’ve studied finance, entrepreneurship, and AI not just as academic disciplines, but as tools—tools that can dismantle the barriers Black communities have long faced in accessing generational wealth, startup capital, and leadership pipelines. But theory alone doesn’t build bridges. Lived experience, community context, and cultural fluency are what allow theory to become transformation. That’s where I come in. As the founder of CultivatED, an EdTech startup aimed at creating culturally responsive, AI-driven test prep for underserved students, I’m building more than just a company—I’m building a pipeline. One that equips Black students with not only the academic skills to succeed in business, but the confidence to redefine it on their own terms. Education becomes the foundation, but ownership is the goal. Too often, Black ambition is framed as exceptional when it should be expected. Through my work, I want to normalize the presence of Black students in venture capital meetings, on IPO stages, and in the rooms where algorithms are being built and budgets are being decided. I want to create learning systems that don’t ask Black students to mold themselves to outdated corporate norms—but instead ask, “What kind of world would you build if you were in charge?” And I want them to be in charge. To that end, I plan to expand CultivatED to include financial literacy and entrepreneurship modules specifically tailored to Black students, using case studies from our own communities—stories of resilience, innovation, and legacy. I’ll use my business education not to teach kids how to get a seat at someone else’s table, but how to build their own table, send out the invitations, and cook the meal from scratch. But my education isn’t just about what I build—it’s also about what I question. I plan to enter the venture capital world not just as a participant, but as a critic and a reformer. I want to ask why less than 2% of VC funding goes to Black founders—and what structural redesigns we need to change that. I want to advocate for equity not as charity, but as strategy. Because when Black entrepreneurs thrive, entire ecosystems benefit—from job creation to community reinvestment to new markets born from overlooked brilliance. Ultimately, I see business not just as a vehicle for profit, but as a platform for justice. My education at Wharton is not the end goal—it’s the launchpad. And I intend to use it to clear a path, build a bridge, and then turn around and pull as many others up with me as I can. Because progress isn’t progress if we arrive alone.

In the next five years, I plan to make a difference in the environment with something less dramatic, less obvious: learning. Learning—especially when it is tailored and culturally relevant—can be a powerful force for climate awareness and action, I'm sure. And with my own career as a founder of CultivatED, a bespoke EdTech system for marginalized learners, I plan to show it. I'm from the South, and I saw environmental injustice not on cable television, but in my own community: treeless blocks sweltering in heat islands, schools with broken air conditioning, asthmatic children walking along highways to attend class. These weren't mistakes. They were choices—historic redlining, disinvestment, and decades of complacency. And I came to understand that as we teach students how to find the area of a triangle or break down a poem, we don't so frequently teach them how to read the world around them. I want to change that. That's why CultivatED is evolving into something more than a site for test prep. We're embedding environmental literacy into our modules of learning—not as an afterthought, but as a paradigm. Math problems based on real air quality readings. Reading selections derived from climate policy rhetoric. Wellness journaling prompts that ask students to reflect on how their physical environment impacts their mental well-being. The idea is simple: if we want students to care, we need to show them how their world is already caring about them. Awareness, however, does not collect tuition. That’s why I’m designing a Green Micro-Scholarship Fund, which will reward students with small financial grants for completing climate-focused learning modules. A student who completes a course on sustainable urban design might earn a scholarship toward their college fund. It’s a fusion of finance and purpose: a system where educational effort toward environmental awareness is directly tied to opportunity. For students who have been left behind for years, that message—that knowledge can literally change their world—is compelling. I'm also exploring the possibility of using machine learning to identify patterns of environmental distress in school settings. For example, we can mine patterns in student performance against indoor air quality or temperature fluctuations and offer schools real-time advice on low-cost, environmentally friendly interventions. This introduces wellness into the equation—not as a broad catch-all, but as a necessary precursor to any true environmental benefit. What most excites me is not just the scale, but the intimacy of this work. It's in the aha moment of comprehension from a student who now knows why her community floods every spring. It's in the sense of accomplishment of a junior high school student who receives a scholarship for writing an essay on solar power in Ghana. It's because I think climate action isn't reserved for scientists or politicians—it's for students too. Especially those who've been told their voices don't matter. Over the next five years, I hope to amplify thousands of those voices. Because the climate crisis doesn't just require new technology—it requires new storytellers. And I think some of the most powerful ones are in under-resourced classrooms, waiting to be amplified.

1.) I’m currently an undergraduate at the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School, concentrating in Entrepreneurship & Innovation with a planned graduation date of 2028. While some people collect stamps or sneakers, I seem to collect experiences in mission-driven business. I’ve interned as a nonprofit consultant under Black Wharton Consulting, where I worked with Bungee Brand USA to develop a product expansion strategy targeting emerging consumer trends. Prior to that, I helped ideate a culturally grounded academic enrichment academy under ITSMF—an initiative that married my passion for education access with structural change. I’m also the founder of CultivatED, an EdTech startup that uses machine learning to deliver personalized standardized test prep to students traditionally left behind by the system. My goal? Make the phrase “achievement gap” obsolete. The journey’s been a learning lab of its own—complete with pitch decks, user testing, and the occasional existential crisis about server costs. 2.) In the short term, I plan to join a private equity or venture capital firm with a strong track record of investing in both innovation and inclusion. I’m drawn to firms that don’t just chase returns, but also interrogate who gets access to capital, who defines “value,” and who gets left out of the room. Longer term, I want to launch my own fund—an alternative investment vehicle focused on undervalued markets and underestimated founders. The excitement I feel toward alternative investments stems from their very nature: they are complex, dynamic, and often deeply contrarian. Alternative investing is where vision meets rigor—and it rewards those who can challenge orthodoxy with precision. It’s a sandbox for systems thinkers and dreamers alike, and I proudly consider myself both. 3.) To ensure funding access for asset managers of all identities, we need more than just goodwill—we need infrastructure. First, LPs should commit to anchored capital in diverse emerging managers, not as a quota but as a competitive advantage. Many of these managers bring differentiated sourcing strategies and nuanced insights into high-growth, overlooked markets. We also need co-investment syndicates that provide capital alongside technical assistance, creating scaffolding that allows diverse GPs to not just raise funds, but raise performance. I’d also push for public-facing transparency dashboards that report capital allocation demographics—because sunlight is the best disinfectant, especially when bias hides in plain sight. And perhaps most importantly, we need a cultural shift in how we define risk. Homogeneity might feel familiar—but familiarity is not the same as security. 4.) If I could shadow any investor for a year, it would be Mitch Kapor. He embodies the kind of values-led investing I aspire to practice—grounded in racial equity, future-of-work innovation, and ecosystem building. His early support of companies like Bloc and Bitwise showed a commitment not only to betting on ideas, but on people and communities often ignored by traditional investors. I’d want to understand his approach to due diligence, how he navigates conversations with skeptical LPs, and how he balances financial discipline with social mission. Just as importantly, I’d want to see how he empowers founders post-check. Writing a check is one thing; building a company alongside someone is entirely another. 5.) If finance weren’t in the picture (and let’s pretend Excel never existed), I’d be building culturally rooted educational institutions—maybe a modern-day version of the Freedom Schools. I’ve always believed that education is the foundation of all upward mobility. I’m guided by values of access, equity, and storytelling—three things that thread through every project I touch. Whether that means creating digital platforms that personalize learning, or curating oral histories of Black entrepreneurship, I’m passionate about democratizing knowledge. In some ways, it’s not all that different from finance—just a different kind of capital being invested: social, cultural, and intellectual. At the end of the day, whether I’m working through a term sheet, a community pitch, or a product-market fit dilemma, my north star is the same: expanding opportunity and equity through systems-level change. Alternative investments just happen to be my favorite tool for doing it.