Art has always been more than just something I enjoy, it's been a lifeline. I didn’t realize how powerful it was until I started going through real emotional struggles. When I was ten years old, my family moved me away from everyone I knew, my cousins, my friends, my school, and all the things that felt like home. I didn’t understand why we had to leave, and honestly, I was mad at my parents. I felt so alone and sad, like no one around me really saw how hard it was for me to start over. To try and help, my parents signed me up for theater and dance classes. I had danced before and even did some kid modeling, so it was exciting in a way, but acting was brand new to me. I’ll never forget the first time I stepped on stage. Oh my gosh, it was like I had entered a different world. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy. I could express emotions I didn’t have the words for in real life. I was in a place where my feelings had purpose. It gave me joy, confidence, and a sense of belonging I really needed. But then COVID hit, and just like that, the stage was gone. I was stuck at home, and the one thing that helped me feel okay was taken away. That time in middle school was really dark for me. I fell into a depression I didn’t fully understand. My relationship with my parents got tense. I know they were just trying to help, but I pushed them away because I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions. I felt like no one could understand me, and I just wanted to be left alone. High school came the next year, and with it, a second chance. I started performing again in school plays, choir concerts, and dance performances. I started to feel like myself again. But then life threw another curveball. My mom, who was only 33, suffered her first heart attack. Since then, her health has gone downhill fast, and I’ve been balancing school, jobs, and performing while also being there for her. That emotional weight isn’t easy, but art is still my outlet. It is hard for me to express emotions because I never wanted to be a burden to my family. My relationships with boys were not always the best and my parents and that emotional rollercoaster took its toll on me as well. However on stage, I can cry, scream, laugh, or shine all the things I sometimes can’t do in real life. It gives me strength. I am proud of who I have become mainly because of my parents support but mostly because of the outlet I had through dance and acting. I created Move by Joslyn because I know I’m not the only one who needs that kind of outlet. I want other kids, especially in underserved communities, to have a safe place to express what they’re going through. Art can be that tool. It gives people a voice, even when they don’t know how to speak. It heals, connects, and gives hope. The works I submitted show my passion because they’re honest. Every role, every performance, every dance step comes from a real place inside me. My art isn’t perfect but it’s real. And for me, that’s enough to make a difference.

If I had to describe myself in one word, it would be driven. I've faced a lot of challenges growing up financial struggles, family health issues, and the pressure of growing up fast but through it all, I’ve held tight to my dream of using the arts to change lives. I’m not just pursuing a career I’m following a calling. I believe the performing arts can heal, uplift, and open doors, and I want to be part of that change. My mom is my biggest inspiration. She’s had three heart attacks, a double bypass surgery all within the last 5 years before she hit 38, and still finds the strength to show up for me every single day. She’s never missed a performance, even when she could not walk. Watching her push through pain with love in her heart taught me how to be strong, how to lead with compassion, and how to make something beautiful out of the hardest moments in life. Her example fuels everything I do. I’ve worked two jobs while finishing high school and auditioning for college. I graduated early so I could help pay for my senior year, college fees, and audition travel. It hasn’t been easy, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I’ve learned the value of hard work, sacrifice, and commitment. I’ve also learned that my story isn’t just mine so many kids out there grow up thinking they have to give up on their dreams because they can’t afford them or don’t see anyone who looks like them succeeding. I want to be proof that it’s possible. That’s why I started “Move by Joslyn,” a program to bring dance and performance opportunities to kids in low-income communities. In neighborhoods where there are no studios and families can’t afford classes, I teach for free, choreograph community shows, and remind kids that their creativity matters. I’ve seen shy kids find confidence, nonverbal kids express emotion, and students with special needs light up on stage. That’s the impact I want to keep making giving people a space where they feel seen, heard, and powerful. In the future, I plan to open performing arts studios in underserved areas so more kids can access training, mentorship, and the kind of support that helped me. I’ll continue performing, too, because I know representation matters. I want to play characters that reflect the depth and strength of real people from all walks of life. Whether I’m acting, teaching, or creating, my mission is the same: to show people they matter, and that their stories deserve a stage. This scholarship would be more than financial help it would be an investment in the vision I’ve been building my whole life. I’m not just asking for support; I’m asking for the chance to prove what’s possible when someone believes in you. I want to use my career not just to succeed, but to lift others up with me. That’s how I plan to make a difference with passion, purpose, and a whole lot of heart.

I’ve always loved fashion and expressing myself through style. I’m an actress by nature, so dressing up for events like homecoming is more than just picking a dress it’s about making a statement. Over the years, I’ve collected some really beautiful, high-end dresses. Every one of them meant something to me, not just because of how they looked, but because of the memories attached to them. So when I started cleaning out my closet, I originally planned to sell a few of those dresses. Money has always been tight in my family. My mom has been sick for as long as I can remember, and with medical bills, daily needs, and just life in general, there’s always something we could use the extra money for. Selling the dresses felt like the smart move. But then something happened. A father reached out to me. He had four younger daughters and asked if I would be willing to sell him one of the dresses for his oldest girl. He mentioned that they were going through a hard time and couldn’t afford much, but he wanted his daughter to feel beautiful. I sat with his message for a while. And then I thought about what it would have felt like to be one of his daughters wanting to feel special, but knowing your family just couldn’t make it happen. I’ve lived that feeling more times than I can count. So I messaged him back and told him he could have the dress actually, I told him I had a few more too. I ended up bagging up several of my favorite gowns and sending them his way. I didn’t ask for money. I just wanted them to have something that made them feel confident and beautiful. I think people assume that when you’ve had hard times, you want to hold onto everything you have. But sometimes, going through struggles makes you more willing to let go especially when you know what it means to someone else. I know what it’s like to wish for something nice and feel like the world forgot about you. I didn’t want those girls to feel that. Yes, I could’ve made a profit. But I made a choice that felt bigger than money. I chose kindness. I chose connection. I chose to pass on joy. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Helping someone in need doesn’t always look like a huge act. Sometimes it’s just giving away something you once loved, so someone else can love it too.

Ever since I was little, performing arts has been a way for me to make sense of the world. Whether it was drawing in the margins of my homework or performing on stage, creating has always been how I connected with others and with myself. Through my art, I hope to achieve something much bigger than personal success I want to inspire people to believe in their own stories, to feel seen and understood, and to remember that even when life feels heavy, there is always beauty worth holding onto. In a world that can sometimes feel cold or unfair, I want my art to be a light. I want to create memorable performances, pieces, and projects that make people stop and feel whether that feeling is hope, laughter, healing, or just the comfort of knowing they're not alone. I especially want to lift up voices and communities that don’t always get the spotlight, those who can't afford dance and theater. Growing up, there weren’t always characters who looked like me or stories that reflected my family's struggles and victories. I want to help change that. I want my art to tell the kind of real, messy, beautiful stories that make people say, "Hey, that's me." Looking ahead, I see my relationship with my art as a lifelong partnership. I know it won’t always be easy there will be moments of doubt, frustration, and fear but I also know that art is a part of me that I could never give up. It’s how I process the good and the bad. It’s how I give back to the world that’s shaped me. I picture myself using my art not just for self-expression, but as a tool for service, growth, and connection. Whether it's performing on stage, teaching kids in neighborhoods like mine, or creating spaces where different kinds of stories can be told, I want my art to stay alive and evolving alongside me. In the future, I don't want to be someone who creates only for recognition or fame. I want to be the kind of artist who stays true to my heart who keeps chasing the feeling that made me fall in love with creating in the first place. I want my work to remind people that they matter, their dreams matter, and their voices matter. That's the kind of impact I dream of having one story, one painting, one performance at a time.

I used to think “community” just meant the people around you like the ones who live on your street or go to your school. But over time, I realized it’s not just about who’s nearby. It’s about how people show up for each other when it really matters.It’s the way you don’t have to explain everything for someone to understand you. It’s being part of something that makes you stronger, even when life feels really hard. The moment I really felt this was when I started helping out at my local theater. I had always loved acting and performing, and this place became like a second home to me. But what really changed me wasn’t the plays of the lights, it was the people. Especially the students with special needs who came to be a part of the shows. A lot of them had never had the chance to be on stage before. Some were nervous. Some had been left out in other places. But when they got on stage with us, something lit up in them. I’ve always been a dancer by nature. Movement just makes sense to me, like my body already knows what to do when the music starts. So when I was asked to help with choreography for our theater Christmas show, I was excited… until rehearsals started. Most of the cast had never danced before. Some couldn’t stay on beat to save their lives, and I’ll be honest, I started to feel frustrated. I had all these creative ideas, but it felt like no one could keep up. Then I remembered what it felt like to be new, to not know something yet. I thought about all the teachers who had been patient with me, even when I was a perfectionist who didn’t want to mess up. So I took a deep breath and tried something different. I broke down the steps in a fun way, clapped out the beat with them, and added little tricks to help them remember. I stayed late after rehearsals to go over moves one on one, especially with a girl who was always the last to get it. Being a part of that experience gave me so much hope. It taught me that the world doesn’t always need big, flashy heroes. Sometimes, it just needs someone who cares. Someone who stands beside you when you’re scared, who believes in you when you don’t believe in yourself yet. That’s the kind of person I want to be. It also taught me resilience. Around that same time, my mom’s health started getting worse. She had multiple heart attacks and major surgery. Our family life got really hard. I had to grow up fast helping around the house, going with her to appointments, and even working two jobs to help support us. But every time I felt overwhelmed, I thought about those kids at the theater. I thought about how they didn’t give up, even when people underestimated them. And I told myself, If they can keep showing up, so can I. Now, when I think about the future, I think about all the communities I want to build on stage, in classrooms, in neighborhoods like mine. I want to make spaces where everyone feels like they matter. I want to be someone who shows up, like others showed up for me. Community isn’t just something I’m part of it’s part of me now. And that gives me more hope than anything.

I have always believed that theater and dance aren’t just extracurriculars. I did it to fulfill my time, they are who I am. Dance, acting, storytelling they give me life. But behind every performance I’ve given is a story of grit, sacrifice, and quiet strength. From the outside, people see the smiles, the structure and the stage lights. What they do not always see is what happens at home. When I was a freshman in high school, my mom had her first heart attack. She was only 33. Over the next few years, she’d suffer two more and undergo a double bypass surgery. She went from being a passionate educator and my biggest cheerleader to someone fighting daily just to stay alive. Watching her lose her health, her job, and so much of her independence broke something in me but it also built something new. Our family became a one-income household, so I wanted to help out . I worked two jobs my senior year not just to help with bills, but to afford college applications and travel for auditions. I missed out on school productions I’d dreamed of being in, all because we couldn’t afford for me not to work. But even when I wasn’t on stage, I never lost sight of my dreams. Instead, I created Move by Joslyn, a program that brings dance to kids in underserved communities who don’t have access to studios. I’ve mentored students with special needs, led performances, and worked to make sure no kid feels left out of the joy and healing that the arts can bring. Even though I couldn’t perform my senior year, I poured my heart into making sure others could. I plan to pursue a degree in performing arts so I can continue using movement and storytelling to inspire, heal, and uplift others. My dream is to one day open my own studios in low-income neighborhoods and tell stories on screen that reflect the people and experiences we don’t see enough of. I also want to show that you don’t have to compromise your morals or values to make it in this industry. The struggles I’ve faced have shaped me into someone who works hard, loves deeply, and never gives up. I’ve learned that even when life feels unfair, you can still rise. And I want to spend the rest of my life helping others rise with me.

Growing up, I didn’t fully understand the weight of financial decisions. I just knew my parents always made things work. They never let us see them struggle. I had what I needed, and sometimes even what I wanted, so for a long time I thought we were fine. But behind the scenes, there were credit cards, bills juggled month to month, and dreams being postponed so that we kids could chase ours. Looking back, I see the love in that but I also see the cost. My parents had me when they were young. They both beat the odds and earned their master’s degrees, determined to give us a better life. But even with education, the weight of medical bills, student debt, and raising a family caught up to them. There were times when we lived above our means and times when we had to live way below. That up and down cycle taught me something many people don’t learn until much later: survival requires humility, resilience, and sometimes, downsizing. I learned that firsthand my senior year. I had big dreams performing arts auditions, college applications, senior dues, all things that cost money we didn’t have. My mom’s health had taken a turn. After three heart attacks and a double bypass surgery, she couldn’t work anymore. My dad was doing everything he could, but it still wasn’t enough. So I made a decision: I got two jobs. Instead of performing in my school’s final theater productions, I worked 2 jobs. I gave up the stage to stand behind a register and help pay for the things that would get me to the next stage in life literally. I worked long hours after school, on weekends, and during breaks. I used my paychecks to help cover audition fees, travel costs, and college expenses. It wasn’t easy, but it taught me what real sacrifice looks like. I’ve seen what happens when families don’t talk about money, and I’ve seen what happens when they do. I’ve learned that financial literacy isn’t just about saving, it's about making hard choices early so you can build something better later. I learned that when things get tight, you downsize. You cut back. You do what it takes. Because being realistic doesn’t mean giving up it means being smart so you can keep going. This scholarship would be a huge step forward for me. Not just because of what it would cover, but because of what it represents, which is a vote of confidence that my sacrifices have meant something. That working two jobs and choosing my family over my spotlight was worth it. That even if I came from a background where money was tight, my future doesn’t have to be. I’m entering the performing arts world, and I want to use my platform to tell real stories, stories of resilience, like my family’s. I want to give back, create spaces where kids from communities like mine can dream big, and teach them what I’ve learned: that financial challenges might slow you down, but they don’t have to stop you. And sometimes, the smartest thing you can do is trade comfort for commitment because that’s when real growth begins.

The movie that has had the greatest impact on my life is The Princess and the Frog. I somewhat remember watching it when I was 3 and according to my parents it was always on repeat. I do remember watching it again when I got older, watching a girl who looked like me on the screen for the very first time. Each time I watched it I probably learned something new each time. This essay is not from just one time, watch it from multiple times. Tiana wasn’t just a typical princess. She wasn’t waiting to be saved, she was saving herself, one sacrifice at a time. The same way I saw my parents do. Growing up, my parents were both young and determined. We didn’t have much, but they taught me the value of education, work ethic, and faith. I watched my mom battle through serious health issues, heart attacks and a bypass, within the last 4 years, all while still showing up for me at every performance, and my dad worked tirelessly to support our family. I saw myself in Tiana, a girl who dreamed big, but did not have the life of luxury like her best friend in the movie did. Tiana, like me, was a princess who loved her family deeply, and who wasn’t afraid to do anything and make sacrifices to make it work. What really stuck with me, though, was the way The Princess and the Frog balances dreams and sacrifice. Tiana taught me that it's more about wishing on a star, but building your dream requires prayer and hard work. It reminded me that sometimes life doesn’t go as planned, but when you lead with confidence in your purpose and faith, things can still fall into place. During my senior year, I had to make real sacrifices to keep my dreams alive. While others were enjoying their senior year performances and activities, I chose to graduate early, working two jobs to help cover college application fees, audition travel costs, and bills at home. I gave up parts of the art I love just to make sure I could still pursue it later. Missing rehearsals and performances wasn’t easy. It felt like a piece of me was missing. Like Tiana, I learned that chasing a dream means making hard choices, and even when no one sees the work you’re putting in, it matters. This season of life made me more disciplined, more humble, and more committed than ever to keep pushing forward. I also want to mention food and family scenes and how this was such an important part of the story. My own family shares love through meals, laughter, and storytelling every Sunday and all holidays. Our lives are too busy throughout the week but we make sure to come together on Sundays. Those moments around the table have been where I’ve learned about resilience, joy, and tradition. Like Tiana, I hope to take what I’ve inherited from my family and build something that brings people together, whether it’s on stage or through a business of my own or a free dance and acting studio for low income kids. The Princess and the Frog gave me more than representation, it gave me permission to believe that my story matters, too. That I could be a Black girl with big dreams and a kind heart and still make it, even when the odds are stacked against me. That’s why this movie will always hold a special place in my heart because it reminded me of who I am, and who I’m becoming.

Growing up, my parents never let me or my siblings see them struggle. They always made sure we had what we needed, meals on the table, clothes for school, support at every performance, and love in abundance. Because of that, I grew up with a bit of entitlement. Not the spoiled kind, but the kind that comes from not fully understanding the weight your parents are carrying. I thought hard work meant giving your best in school and showing up to rehearsal on time. I thought success was a given if you just followed the rules. But everything shifted during my freshman year of high school. That was the year my mom had her first heart attack. She was only 33. Seeing her in that hospital bed exhausted, and hooked up to machines hurt me. I saw fear in her eyes, and I saw my dad trying so hard to stay strong, even though I knew he was terrified. That moment woke me up. Suddenly, life wasn’t just about school dances and auditions, it was about survival, responsibility, and rising up when everything feels like it’s falling apart. From that point on, caregiving became part of my daily life. My mom had two more heart attacks and a double bypass surgery before I graduated last December. Her disability changed everything. We became a one-income household, and the quiet sacrifices my parents had been making behind the scenes became loud and visible. I started helping more around the house, being present at her doctor’s appointments, understanding medications, and most importantly being a source of comfort when she was in pain or afraid. I also picked up two jobs during my senior year, not just to help with college and audition costs, but to ease some of the financial pressure on our family. I gave up my last high school productions by graduating early and working 2 jobs.That decision broke my heart but more importantly I think it hurt my mom more than the heart attacks, but it also showed me what it really means to think about someone other than yourself. Before things got that hard, during my junior year, I started a program called Move by Joslyn to bring dance to kids in low-income neighborhoods. I wanted to give kids what I wish I’d had when I was younger a chance to dance, express themselves without the financial burderns and feel like they belonged. But as my family’s needs grew and I had to work more and more, I couldn’t keep the program going. Letting that go was one of the hardest parts for me. It was something I created out of love, and walking away from it made everything feel even more real. Still, it reminded me why I want to pursue the arts not just for me, but for others. I want to tell stories that make people feel seen and heard. I want to make spaces where kids like me, kids who are dealing with real life stuff can come alive through music, movement, and performance. Now, I walk with a deep sense of pride. Not just because of what I’ve overcome, but because of what my parents gave me, which is strength, resilience, and the belief that nothing, not even poverty or pain can stop someone with faith and fight. I’ve grown from an entitled kid who didn’t know what struggle looked like to a young woman who carries her family’s legacy of perseverance with honor. Receiving this scholarship would mean everything. Not because I expect handouts but because I know the weight of sacrifice, and I’ve fought hard to make it this far. It would ease the burden I carry every day, and allow me to fully focus on my education, my craft, and my dream of opening performing arts spaces for kids like me. My story began like most stories of a parent's sacrifice, but it’s continuing with my drive to show what it looks like to appreciate the sacrifice. I’m not just proud of where I’m going, I’m proud of how I’ve gotten here.

Sometimes people don’t realize that caregiving doesn’t always look like a nurse or someone older pushing a wheelchair. Sometimes, caregiving looks like a teenage girl quietly stepping up, working two jobs, and helping hold her household together while chasing a dream that feels too expensive to reach. That’s been my life. I care for my mom. She’s the strongest person I know. She had her first heart attack at 33, and by the time I was in high school, she had survived two more and a double bypass. Watching your mom struggle to breathe, fight through pain, and do it all while still trying to be there for you changes something inside of you. She went from being the family provider and educator to being disabled and unable to work. Her body couldn’t do what it used to, but her love for us never changed. That’s what I’ve tried to carry forward. Taking care of my mom isn’t about doing big things. It’s about being there for her in the little ways that matter. It’s an everyday thing. Caregiving is me graduating high school early to work 2 jobs. It’s helping with medication reminders, carrying groceries so she doesn’t strain herself, checking in on her constantly, learning what foods and activities might trigger her heart to race. It’s being her cheerleader when she’s down, her voice when she’s too tired to explain her condition, and her shadow at doctor appointments because I want to understand what’s going on, even when it’s scary. It’s also stepping in at home to help with bills. All of this has shaped me into someone stronger, more mature, and more compassionate. I’ve had to grow up quickly, and while that’s hard, it’s also been a blessing. It’s helped me see the world through a lens of empathy and service. I’ve realized how much I want to give back not just to my mom, but to others who love the arts and cant participate due to financial struggles. I want to bring people joy and healing through the arts, just like it’s done for me and my family. Performing is my safe place. It's where my mom forgets her pain for a little while. Every time she watches me on stage, I feel her heart healing in a different way. That’s why I want to pursue a career in the performing arts. I want to tell stories that make people feel less alone. I want to create spaces where people see themselves in characters and believe they matter. But chasing that dream has not been easy.As I mentioned earlier I worked two jobs during my senior year, not because I wanted to miss out on school theater or spend less time with friends, but because I had to. I needed to save for college audition fees, travel expenses, and basic things like groceries and bills. I gave up the stage for a while to help take the stress off my mom. That was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever made. I did it for my mom. For my future. This scholarship would mean more than just financial help, it would be a sigh of relief. It would be one less weight to carry. It would mean I could focus more on training, studying, and building my future, instead of constantly worrying about how I’ll afford it. It would also mean honoring my mom’s sacrifices. Every performance I give is for her. Every monologue I memorize, every dance I rehearse, every dream I chase it’s all because she taught me not to give up, no matter how hard things get. Caregiving has taught me to be present, to love deeper, and to fight harder. It’s made me who I am. I a determined, passionate, and hopeful girl with big dreams. This scholarship would be a stepping stone, helping me carry both my dreams and my responsibilities without having to choose between the two. Thank you for considering me not just as a student, but as a daughter who refuses to let her story stop her.

To me, empowerment means feeling like you can keep going even when life tries to stop you. It’s knowing someone believes in you, but also learning how to believe in yourself. It’s when someone gives you the support or the push you need to do something you didn’t think you could. I’ve learned that empowerment doesn’t always come from big moments, it's in the quiet ways people lift you up, like my mom did for me, and the ways I’ve learned to lift others, too.I was raised by a mother who redefined strength for me. Despite being disabled after three heart attacks and a double bypass surgery, she never let her health battles steal her spirit. Instead, she turned every hardship into a lesson. She taught me that faith wasn’t just something we speak about on Sundays. Watching her in pain and having uncertain moments with grace gave me the courage to face my own challenges. Our financial struggles meant I had to grow up quickly. I worked two jobs my senior year but not because I wanted to miss out on school plays or theater productions, but because I had to help pay for college auditions and household needs. I sacrificed the stage that year, but not my dream. Empowerment, for me, was found in the decision to push forward anyway, even at times things didn't seem fair or weren't going my way. It was found in faith, discipline, and the strength to keep chasing something bigger than myself. Empowerment also means helping others rise. I experienced this firsthand when I worked with students with special needs at my local theater and through my own program, Move by Joslyn, which I created to bring dance and performance opportunities to kids in underserved communities. Many of these students had never had a chance to perform. I stood by them, coached them, encouraged them, and made sure they felt seen. Watching them step on stage with pride changed me. I saw how a little belief can spark greatness in someone who’s never been given the chance to shine. It reminded me that empowerment isn’t always loud, it's often quiet support, showing up, and letting others know they’re capable and worthy. That’s what I want to do in the world, empower others through storytelling and performance. I believe that the arts have the power to heal, inspire, and bring people together. I want to be a part of that. I want to use my platform to represent voices that often go unheard and to show kids from low-income backgrounds, like me, that their dreams are possible. Empowerment affects my life every day. It’s the reason I keep going when things are hard. It’s the reason I work long hours, stay grounded in my values, and lead with heart. I want to lift others in ways that people around me have lifted me!

Service has always been more than just an action to me; it's a reflection of who I am and what I believe in. I was raised by a woman whose strength, faith, and resilience have guided my entire life. My mom has survived three heart attacks and a double bypass before the age of 40, yet she still finds ways to uplift others, celebrate my gifts, and push me toward my purpose. Her example and my faith in God have instilled in me a deep sense of responsibility to use the talents I’ve been given not for my own glory, but to serve others. I have started a free dance program called Move by Joslyn, which was short lived due to focusing on working 2 jobs to help support home and senior year expenses. Seeing the kids' faces during the performance at the 5th grade graduation is what I imagine my mom feels like everytime she watches me. However one of the most meaningful acts of service I’ve done was working with students who had special needs at our local theater. I was not able to continue as transportation became an issue. When I started I didn’t know what to expect when I first stepped into that role. Some of the students were nonverbal. Others had physical or cognitive challenges that made performing on stage difficult. Putting it together was so beautiful. I began working with the students one on one. They didn’t need perfection. They needed someone who believed in them, who treated them with the same respect and expectations as everyone else. I gave them that, and in return, they gave me a lesson in what true strength, joy, and vulnerability look like. There were challenges, of course. Some days were frustrating. The progress felt slow for a lot of days. There were a lot of times when I wondered if I was helping enough. But I stayed and I learned patience. My faith has always been the foundation of my morals and values. I believe in compassion, humility, and perseverance. I believe in showing up for others even when it’s inconvenient. And I believe in using every opportunity to reflect God’s love, especially in spaces where people might feel forgotten or overlooked. That experience taught me that leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room. It’s about doing the work no one sees, showing kindness when it’s hard, and believing in someone even when they don't believe in themselves. Service is not something I do for recognition. It’s something I do because my faith calls me to. Because I know what it’s like to need help. And because I know the joy that comes from giving it.

The person who has had the biggest impact on my life is my mom. She’s the strongest person I know. Over the past few years, she’s had multiple heart attacks and even a double bypass surgery, all before the age of 40. Watching someone you love go through something like that changes you. It makes you grow up fast. It makes you think about what really matters. Even with everything she’s been through, my mom has never stopped showing up for me. She’s been to every performance I’ve ever had, even when she could barely stand. She would pick paying for my voice, dance, and acting lessons over paying her medical bills, just so I could keep chasing my dreams. That kind of love is something I’ll never forget. And it’s the reason why I push so hard and why I dream so big. What makes her even more inspiring is that even though she’s not well enough to work, she still finds ways to give. She used to be a high school teacher, and even now when she’s battling so much she continues to tutor students in our community for free. Kids who are struggling, who feel lost or behind, come to our kitchen table, and she helps them believe they can succeed. I know she's tired. I know it hurts her to sit for long periods. But she still gives. That’s who she is. And that’s who I want to be, someone who gives even when it hurts, who shows up for others no matter what. This past year was supposed to be my big senior year, the one where I got to perform as lead, shine, and enjoy everything I had worked so hard for. But that didn’t happen. I had to graduate early and work two jobs to help pay for bills at home and cover my college and senior year expenses. I wasn’t able to be in any shows, and I had to put my nonprofit, Move by Joslyn, on hold. That was heartbreaking. But I knew I had to step up for my family, especially for my mom. Still, all of this has made my purpose even clearer. I want to become an actress not just to be on a big screen, but to tell stories that help people feel seen. I want to show young girls, especially those from low-income homes like mine, that you don’t have to give up your morals, your faith, or your values to make it. You don’t have to change who you are. You can succeed by staying true to yourself. And once I do make it, I’m going to bring Move by Joslyn back and bigger than ever. I want to offer free dance and acting classes in underserved neighborhoods. I want kids to have what my mom gave me: a chance to express themselves, to shine, and to feel like they matter. Because I know the arts can keep kids off the streets and in a safe place where they’re encouraged, not overlooked. Everything I do is to honor her her strength, her sacrifices, and her love. I carry that with me every day. And I’ll keep carrying it, all the way to the top.

Community service in the arts has always been personal for me. I created Move by Joslyn, which brings dance opportunities to kids in low-income areas. But this year, my senior year, I wasn't able to do it. In the last 4 years my mom has had multiple heart attacks and is drowning in medical bills. Even with that, with the money she was getting from disability she chose to pay for my dance, voice, and acting classes instead of her own care, because she knew how much the arts meant to me. Most families don’t have the means to do that. I graduated early and chose to work two jobs my senior year to help with bills, college fees, and overall help at home. It was hard not getting to perform or continue Move by Joslyn this year, but it made my purpose even clearer. With this scholarship I can attend college and come back stronger expanding my nonprofit to give kids chances I had, without it being a choice between bills and their dreams. No child should ever have to give up what they love just because their family can’t afford it. That’s the change I want to make.

When people think about public service, they might picture someone in a suit working in an office or helping with laws. But for me, public service means using my talents to help others especially through dance, acting, and storytelling. That’s why I started Move by Joslyn, a program I created to bring dance and acting to kids in low-income neighborhoods who don’t have access to studios or can’t afford classes. I know what that feels like. When I was 10, I had to move away from all my family and friends, and I felt really alone and upset. My parents put me in dance and theater, and it changed everything for me. Being on stage made me feel like myself again. It gave me a way to express all the things I was holding inside. But the truth is, taking those classes isn’t cheap. My mom has had several heart attacks and struggles with serious medical issues, but she still chose to pay for my arts training instead of her medical bills just to keep me doing what I love. When I brought Move by Joslyn to a school where 95% of the students live in poverty and most are black and brown, I saw just how much impact it made. Dance gave them something to look forward to. It gave them confidence. It gave them a space to let out their emotions in a healthy way. To me that is public service giving young people a positive outlet that could help them stay out of trouble, stay focused, and believe in themselves. Some kids don’t have a safe place to go after school. Programs like this can be that place. Sadly, I had to pause the program this year because I wanted to help around the house and with my senior year items. Even though I wanted to perform my last year of high school I made sacrifices the same way my parents did for me. I graduated early and picked up two jobs to help my family and pay for college stuff. But that hasn’t stopped my dream, it's just made me work harder to get into a college program that will help me in the next step of my journey. I want to become a professional actress so I can tell real, meaningful stories and use my career to give back. One day, I want to open free dance and acting studios in neighborhoods that don’t have them, and maybe even be a teacher who brings the arts straight to schools that need it. I don’t want any kid to feel like they can’t chase their dreams just because of money. Public service is about using what you love to help people, and this is how I want to do it.

During my freshman, sophomore, and junior years of high school, I had the privilege of being taught by a dynamic duo known simply as “The Craigs.” They were a married couple who ran our school’s theater program and were legends in our community. Over the years, they brought home countless UIL theater awards, even earning the coveted title of state champion, a prestigious honor that few ever achieve. While many of my peers struggled with their intense style and high expectations, I thrived under their direction. Maybe it was because I knew this was more than just a class to me, this was my passion, and I wanted to be the best I could be. What made The Craigs special was not only their reputation but their balance. Their teaching styles were complete opposites, and I learned to appreciate both. One brought fierce structure, discipline, and direct feedback; the other was gentle, nurturing, and focused on emotional depth. Together, they created an environment where I felt challenged, inspired, and understood. They demanded a lot: all students had to maintain at least a C average in all classes, no missing assignments, and daily rehearsals that often ran until 9 or 10 p.m. And while others may have dreaded this schedule, I looked forward to every single rehearsal. It wasn’t just about learning lines or blocking a scene, it was about transforming into someone else, about learning to listen, connect, and be completely present on stage. Before joining theater, I was a perfectionist, I still am to an extent, haha. I feared failure and hesitated to take risks. But The Craigs taught me that failure is part of the process. They gave me permission to mess up, to explore, to stumble, and to try again. They emphasized rehearsal as a safe space to grow, not a place to prove myself. That mindset completely changed how I approach not just acting, but life. They instilled in me the fundamental skills of being a performer which include vocal projection, physical awareness, timing, and above all, commitment. But even more than that, they taught me to be resilient, hardworking, and unafraid of feedback. Thanks to them, I no longer see mistakes as something to avoid, but as stepping stones to becoming better. Their tough love prepared me for the intensity of the performing arts world and gave me a foundation that I’ll carry into college and beyond. The Craigs didn’t just shape me into a better actress they shaped me into a more confident, driven version of myself. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

When I brought Move by Joslyn to an elementary school, I knew it was more than just starting a dance program, it was about creating a space for students who didn’t always get one. The school serves a population that’s about 95% below the poverty line, and most of the students are Black and Brown. There were no dance classes, no after-school performing arts, just a lot of students with raw talent and nowhere to express it. I saw that need and felt called to fill it. I helped build a program where students could move, create, and perform, no auditions, no fees, just freedom to express themselves. For many of them, it was their first time on stage, and I could see the transformation in their confidence. It reminded me of how dance and acting saved me when I was going through my own struggles. I knew this wasn’t just about movement it was about healing, community, and hope. Since then a few teachers has started a step program for the students to still engage in the arts in some form of movement. I had big dreams to expand the program, but life at home got harder. My mom’s health declined fast after her first heart attack at just 33 years old. Since then, I’ve taken on two jobs to help my family. I also worked hard to help pay for my senior year, college auditions, and anything else I could to help around the house. Still, I haven’t let go of the bigger dream. I want to earn a degree in performing arts so I can build a career in acting, but not just for myself. I want to use what I make to open free dance and acting spaces for kids in low-income neighborhoods. If plan A which is acting on TV or a movie takes time, plan B is teaching dance in middle or high school and using that income to do pop-up studios and workshops in low income communities, eventually leading to a possible partnership with elementary schools where students can stay after school and dance or act, eliminating transportation barriers. This scholarship would take s much pressure off my family and allow me to keep pushing forward. I’ve seen what happens when kids are given a stage where they shine. I want to keep creating those stages, especially in places where people don’t expect to find them. Because that’s where they’re needed most.

One of my biggest academic goals is to major in acting, so I can continue telling powerful stories and also grow my nonprofit, Move by Joslyn. Professionally, I want to be an actress who changes the industry not just by being on screen, but by standing for something real and not compromising my morals and values for fame and money. I want to play roles that reflect the lives of people who don’t always get seen or heard, and I want to make sure kids in underserved communities have a chance to express themselves through the arts too. Giving back has always been important to me. I started Move by Joslyn because I saw a need. So many low income neighborhoods don’t have access to performing arts programs, especially ones that are affordable. I’ve brought dance and movement classes to kids in schools where many had never taken a class before. Watching their confidence grow, seeing them come alive with creativity, it inspired me to keep going even when things in my own life got hard. Because of Move by Joslyn teachers at the school started a step and dance program for students interested in the arts. I would’ve loved to do even more with my nonprofit this year, but due to my mothers recent health issues, I had to make a few tough choices. I was blessed to graduate early and to be offered two jobs, and I took them to help out at home. My mom and dad have sacrificed so much for others, even when people didn’t always recognize it as “community service.” To me, their love, generosity, and strength have always been examples of what real community looks like. I wanted to take some weight off their shoulders, so I used my paychecks to help with bills and to cover the costs of my senior year college applications, clothes, gas money, you name it. Even though I couldn’t run as many dance classes this year, Move by Joslyn still lives in everything I do. It’s my dream to one day open a chain of affordable dance and acting studios in areas where kids don’t have access to the arts. My goal is to build spaces that feel safe, welcoming, and full of joy just like the kind of space I needed growing up. I believe art can change lives. It changed mine, and now I want to help it change someone else’s.

Furthering my education is really important to me because it’s not just about getting a degree it’s about opening doors that have never really been open for people like me. I come from a hardworking family, and we’ve been through a lot. My mom has had serious health issues, including three heart attacks and a double bypass before she turned 40. My dad works hard to take care of our family, and I’ve taken on two jobs to help out too. Going to college and continuing my education means I’m not only honoring their sacrifices, but I’m also building a future where I can give back to others especially through the arts. Art, especially acting and dance, has been a lifeline for me. I’ve always felt things really deeply, but sometimes I didn’t know how to say what I was feeling, because in my culture we do not really share our feelings. Performing gave me a way to express everything like pain, joy, hope, fear all through movement and story. On stage, I feel free. I feel seen. It’s the one place where I can turn everything. I’ve been given a gift. I have the ability to make people feel something. The arts give those performing a voice and a release, and those watching a chance to connect, and sometimes even heal. When life has gotten really hard, the arts have been how I’ve coped. There were times when my mom was in the hospital and I didn’t know if she’d make it. I’d still show up to rehearsal, and even though my heart was heavy, dancing helped me breathe. Acting helped me process things I didn’t even understand yet. Performing gave me strength when I felt like breaking down. And the best part? My mom has never missed a performance, even when she was sick. Seeing her light up when I’m on stage reminds me why I keep going. I also started a nonprofit called Move by Joslyn to bring dance and performing arts to kids in low-income neighborhoods. A lot of them don’t have access to studios or can’t afford classes, and I know how that feels. I want them to feel what I’ve felt to have something that helps them cope, grow, and dream. As for crime, I have heard stories of how it has affected my family and those around me. We grew up in an area in Nebraska where crime was high. My family moved to Texas when I was ten to give me and my siblings a better chance at life. Moving here we still live paycheck to paycheck to make ends meet but we are in a safer neighborhood and city. But regarding the arts, If one kid chooses a dance floor or an acting stage over the streets, that’s a win. And I want to be part of that change. Continuing my education will help me do that. It’s not just for me it’s for my family, my community, and the kids who need to know their voice matters too.

My name is Joslyn, and I love telling stories through performing. Acting is more than performance to me, it's a way to make people feel seen. I’ve always been drawn to characters who are not always seen and often misunderstood. I grew up in a family that taught me resilience and empathy by example. Watching my mother fight through serious health issues with grace, and my father working tirelessly to support our family, I learned early on that strength often hides behind a smile. Those stories are ones that aren’t always pretty or easy but they are the ones I want to tell on stage and screen. As a future actress, I’m committed to portraying characters from underrepresented communities. I want to challenge stereotypes and bring complexity and humanity to roles that are often overlooked. I believe the arts have the power to shift mindsets, and I intend to use that power carefully. I won’t compromise who I am to “make it” in the entertainment industry. My faith, my values, and my truth will guide every role I take and every story I help bring to life. What makes me happiest is that my mom, despite her health struggles, lights up every time she sees me perform. She once told me that when I’m on stage, it gives her hope. That kind of joy is what I want to create for other families, especially those who are going through hard times. Art doesn’t just entertain it heals. And I want to be part of that healing, both in front of the camera and behind the scenes through my nonprofit. But my mission goes beyond the stage. I founded Move by Joslyn, a nonprofit dedicated to bringing dance and performing arts programs to kids in low-income neighborhoods like me, who may not have a studio nearby or the extra funds for classes. I created Move by Joslyn because I believe every child deserves the chance to find their voice through art. At one school I partnered with where 90% of the students come from low income homes have never been in a dance or acting studio. Kids who were shy when they first started began smiling and leading warmups. They couldn’t wait to perform at their 5th grade graduations. When I look into the audience and see how proud their parents look is when I feel like this is something I want to continue as an actress. Through my education, I hope to gain not only professional training but also the tools to lead, create, and give back. I want to major in acting and if possible minor in business management so I can continue growing Move by Joslyn and eventually open a network of affordable arts studios in underserved communities. I dream of a world where every child, regardless of zip code, can see themselves reflected in the stories we tell and believe their own story is worth telling, too.

Hello, my name is Joslyn, and I plan to study performing arts in college, focusing on acting and dance. For as long as I can remember, storytelling through movement and expression has been my way of connecting with the world. Performing makes me feel alive; it gives me confidence, purpose, and a place to grow, even in the middle of life’s challenges. My passion for the arts doesn’t come from a perfect or easy place. In fact, it was during some of the hardest moments in my life that I realized how powerful art could be. My mom has faced serious health issues in the last few years, three heart attacks and a double bypass before the age of 38. Watching her fight through those struggles while still showing up for me has changed the way I see strength. She’s my biggest supporter, and no matter what she’s going through, she lights up when she sees me on stage. That’s when I knew that the arts don’t just entertain, they heal, connect, and inspire. In the future, I want to take what I learn and give back in a big way. My goal is to open a free, nonprofit dance and acting studio in neighborhoods like mine, places where there’s so much talent, but kids don’t get the chance to show it because they can’t afford classes or don’t have access. I want to create a space where kids feel seen and supported. A place where they don’t have to worry about how much money their parents make or if they have the right shoes. They’ll just get to be artists. Money should never be the reason a kid gives up on their dream. I’ve seen too many people with incredible talent doubt themselves because no one gave them a shot. I want to be that person for them. I want to build something lasting, something that tells the next generation, your dreams matter, and there is space for you. Through my education, I hope to not only become a better performer but a better leader, mentor, and community builder. The arts taught me how to show up with my whole heart, and I want to use that lesson to build something that reaches far beyond the stage. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and consider supporting my journey. Your belief in students like me makes all the difference.

While I wasn't in the foster care system, my older brother was. My parents took him in when he was 12 years old , 2 years before was born. He became part of our family, not just through paperwork, but through love and real life. Right before they could adopt him, he got in trouble with the law. Because of that, he aged out of the system. But he never left our family, and my parents never gave up on him. He lived with us until we moved to Texas about seven years ago. He’s now 31 with five kids of his own and works as a line cook at two restaurants in Omaha, Nebraska. When my mom’s health started getting worse, he was the one who cooked for us on the hard days. He made sure we were fed and that the house still felt full of care. I don’t know what my life or my biological brother’s would’ve looked like without him. Because of his previous life he used comedy and humor as a way to cope. He brought jokes and comedy everyday. He’s proof that when someone is given love and a second chance, they can still grow into someone amazing. My mom was a schoolteacher, and I’m sure she dreamed of saving up to send me to college. But her health changed everything. By the time she was 33, she had already survived three heart attacks and a double bypass surgery. Now she’s permanently disabled and can’t work full time, but that hasn’t stopped her heart for helping others. She still tutors low-income students in our living room helping them pass their classes and make it to graduation, all for free. That kind of dedication to the community is in my blood. I’m going to school for performing arts, and my dream is to act and tell stories that matter. But I also have a bigger goal: I want to open dance and acting studios in neighborhoods like mine for kids like my brother, who didn’t grow up thinking opportunities like that were even possible. Not every family can afford classes. Not every neighborhood has a dance studio around the corner. But that shouldn’t stop a kid from chasing something they love. I’ve already started a small version of this with Move by Joslyn, a program I created to bring dance to low-income areas. But I want to do more. I want to build spaces where kids feel seen and heard where they realize they can be on stage, no matter where they come from. This scholarship would help make that dream possible. I’m already working two jobs to help with college costs. Every bit of support helps me take another step closer to changing lives just like my mom and my brothers helped change mine.

Hi, my name is Joslyn, and the arts have been my safe space for as long as I can remember. Whether I’m dancing, acting, or performing on stage, it’s where I feel alive, like I can finally breathe and be myself. But getting here hasn’t been easy. My mom is my biggest supporter and one of the strongest people I know. She had her first heart attack at just 33 in 2020. Then came two more and a double bypass surgery all within the 4 years of me being in high school. Her health declined quickly, and she’s now disabled. But even through pain and fatigue, she never missed one of my performances. Not once. She’s always been in the front row clapping, smiling, and reminding me that I’m capable of anything. Before her health got worse, my mom was a teacher who worked hard to help black and brown students succeed in school. She believed in them when others didn’t and always made sure they felt seen and valued. That passion didn’t leave her, even when her body slowed down. To this day, she still offers free tutoring to low-income students who are struggling to graduate on time. She gives her time, her energy, and her love to help them succeed, just like she always has. Watching her pour her heart into helping others lit a fire in me, not just to perform, but to use the arts to lift people up the way she did in education. That’s why I started Move by Joslyn, a free dance program for kids in low-income communities, where access to the arts is almost impossible. I brought it to a school where most of the students were Hispanic and Black ,and had never had a chance to take a dance class. I saw how excited they were to move, to perform, and to just be kids. And their parents? Some cried during our little showcases. It reminded me so much of my own mom and how powerful it is when someone believes in your child. Because of my mom’s health and the financial pressure that comes with it, I graduated early and started working two jobs to help with expenses and save for college. I know what it’s like to make tough choices and still chase something that feels out of reach. But I keep going, because my mom showed me how to be strong, even on the hardest days. In Black and Brown communities, kids don’t always get opportunities in the arts. Studios are expensive, programs are limited, and support can be hard to find. But talent is everywhere. My dream is to become a performer who brings real stories to life and to one day open a performing arts center in a community like mine, where every kid feels like they belong. Art helped me survive. It helped me grow. Now, I want to use it to give back to create, inspire, and open doors for others the way my mom once did. Because sometimes, all it takes is one person who believes in you to change everything.

One of the biggest ways I have been able to impact my community is through a program I created called Move by Joslyn. Move by Joslyn is a dance and performing arts program I started to help girls in low-income areas have access to dance classes and performing arts opportunities. In my community, there aren’t many studios that are affordable or nearby, so a lot of kids don’t get a chance to experience dance or acting like I have. I wanted to change that. I started Move by Joslyn because I know how important dance has been in my life. It’s not just about learning moves; it’s about feeling confident, making friends, and having a way to express yourself. I wanted other girls to feel that too. At first, I didn’t know if anyone would come, but after spreading the word at my school and through my church, the program started to grow. I was so excited to see girls show up and start learning. Some of them had never danced before, and I could see how nervous they were. But after a few classes, I saw them smiling, laughing, and trying their best. One of the biggest changes I saw was in the confidence of the girls. There was one girl, for example, who was very shy and didn’t like talking to anyone. She didn’t think she was good enough to dance. But after a few weeks, she was one of the first to volunteer to lead warm-ups, and she even performed a solo during one of our showcases at school. Seeing her transformation made me so proud because I knew Move by Joslyn had given her a place where she felt safe and supported. Another impact the program created was at my school. The teachers and students noticed how the girls involved in Move by Joslyn started doing better in class and feeling more excited to come to school. One teacher told me that dance was helping the girls focus more and gave them something to look forward to after school. It made me happy to know that I was helping not just with dance but with their overall success. The program also brought the community together. Parents and families would come to watch our performances, and it felt like everyone was proud of what we had created. Seeing all the support showed me that even small actions can make a big difference. I realized that when you give people an opportunity to shine, they can surprise you with what they’re capable of. Move by Joslyn has taught me that I have the power to make a change, even if it starts small. It’s not about how much money you have or how perfect everything is. It’s about trying your best to help others and creating a space where they can grow. I hope to keep making Move by Joslyn bigger and reaching more kids who need it. I know that even if I just help one person feel more confident, I’ve made a difference. That’s what really matters to me.