Mental health has shaped every chapter of my academic and personal journey. I began experiencing anxiety and depression while I was still in college, though I didn’t know how to name it at the time. My father was terminally ill during my entire undergraduate experience, and the weight of knowing he was back home, hours away, fighting for his life made it nearly impossible to concentrate. I was silently unraveling with every missed assignment and every half-hearted submission. The semester before I dropped out, I barely passed my classes. I was there physically, but emotionally, I was drowning. I still remember the moment I got the call that my dad was being moved to hospice. It was during my favorite class, Social Psychology. I couldn’t get the words out to tell my professor, so I waited for our class break and walked out in tears. I ended up losing attendance credit that day and had to explain through an email I could barely bring myself to send. That season broke me in more ways than I could express. After his death, I spiraled into a cycle of grief, toxic relationships, and high-functioning depression. I was anxious, masking it by overcommitting in relationships. I could lie in the same spot for hours, unable to move, but still pretending everything was fine. It wasn’t until I finally got help that I started to breathe again. I went undiagnosed for years, operating as a shadow of myself. Things got worse when I reentered the workforce, only to be laid off during one of the toughest job markets in recent history. Isolation set in hard. Everyone around me seemed to be thriving, getting promoted, building lives, while I was patching together income with part-time jobs and applying endlessly, exhausted and ashamed. Eventually, I chose to fight for myself. I sought help, committed to therapy, and embraced practices that bring me back to center. For me, that looks like prayer, grounding techniques, moving my body, and choosing discipline over chaos. I have daily rituals now that help recalibrate my mind even on heavy days. These practices are not just routines. They are lifelines. Prioritizing my mental health is the reason I’m finally returning to school. I now have the tools to not only succeed academically but to care for myself beyond the classroom. And as someone pursuing a Psychology degree with a concentration in Diversity and a minor in Leadership Studies, it is essential that I live out the wellness principles I hope to one day teach and lead others through. As I continue this journey, I plan to use what I have learned to advocate for mental health within education and the workplace. I want to create safe spaces for others to feel seen and supported. Whether through mentoring, research, or leadership in employee wellbeing, I am committed to making sure that no one else feels as alone as I once did. Prioritizing mental health is no longer just personal. It is part of my purpose.

Right now, I feel like I’m breaking through fallow ground. Like I’m blooming in conditions that no one would expect growth from. That’s me. A concrete rose. I’ve overcome so much from losing my father, dropping out of college, being laid off, losing my apartment, and having my car repossessed. But the story isn’t in the losses. The story is that I’m still standing, still believing, and still growing. One moment that stays with me is walking down the streets of Chicago after I lost my car. I remember the wind kicking up dust in my face as I walked against traffic, trying to convince myself I was “just exercising.” I didn’t even have enough money for the bus. I was on my way to the public library to submit a scholarship application—maybe even this very one. That’s resilience. That’s how I learned to turn something demoralizing into something purposeful. Not because I wasn’t hurting, but because I believed there was still a future worth walking toward, even if I had to do it on foot. My dream is to return to school and finish what I started. I want to earn my bachelor’s in Psychology and Diversity, then pursue an MBA, and ultimately a PhD in Organizational Psychology to develop training and business models for the hospitality industry. I’m not just going back for a degree. I’m going back to honor the promise I made to God and to myself. My pastor annointed my head before I left for school the first time, and even though I stumbled, I know now that God is sending me back with fresh strength and vision. This next chapter is not about revenge against people. It’s about revenge against the shame, fear, and silence that tried to steal my story. To do that, I need to relocate to Tampa. The full cost of attendance including tuition, books, housing, and technology is about $16,000. This scholarship would move the needle for me in a real and tangible way. It would give me the margin to focus fully on school, instead of surviving. It would give me peace. Most of all, it would be a reminder that someone else believes in me and that I’m not alone in this journey. I’m battling self-doubt daily, trying to unlearn the shame of failing the first time, but I made myself a promise: I will never give up on myself again. I am the young woman of color this scholarship was created for. A woman who dares to start over again and again until she wins. Who walks with dust on her shoes and fire in her spirit. Who mentors others even when she needs mentoring. Who nurtures dreams even when her own feels fragile. I’ve tutored young Black girls and encouraged them when no one else had the time or patience. I’ve shared my story not to impress people, but to liberate others. The Bible says we overcome by the word of our testimony and I'll carry mine unashamedly. Black women are often socialized to play it small. To shrink. To be “humble,” even at the expense of our growth. But investing in myself means I finish what I started. It means I embody the woman I’ve always seen myself becoming: educated, impactful, and whole in every area of my life. This scholarship wouldn’t just support my education. It would affirm my worth. And right now, that’s everything.

Some people are born with a heart full of gold, and I strive every day to be one of them. I am proud to be the first person in my family to attend college. When I started in 2014 as one of only 25 incoming freshmen black students, I often looked around hoping to see someone who looked like me. It was a small number back then, and it reminded me of my mother’s words after I graduated high school: “Being the first in the family means you will face many battles.” Her words stayed with me throughout my journey. I realized early on that my fight was bigger than just me and it carried the hopes and sacrifices of my family. My path has not been easy. I faced challenges that tested my strength, including financial hardship that forced me to leave school. At one point, a $900 balance stood between me and my education. I had only $400 to my name, and I had no choice but to drop out. That moment brought shame, disappointment, and fear. But it also lit a fire inside me. I refused to let my story end there. When God spoke to me, I listened. I applied to return to school, determined to rewrite my narrative. This time, I would face my challenges head-on, asking for help when I needed it and embracing every opportunity to succeed. This Fall, I will be pursuing a degree in Psychology with a concentration in Diversity, along with a minor in Leadership Studies. My goal is to earn a PhD in Organizational Psychology and launch a hospitality business model centered around employee wellbeing and mental health. My experiences working in hospitality, combined with my personal journey through mental health struggles, inspired me to create spaces where people feel safe, supported, and empowered to thrive. I want to break cycles of trauma and build cultures that prioritize healing and growth. Throughout this journey, I have learned the value of resilience, faith, and community. My faith keeps me grounded. I believe God has given me unique gifts and a purpose. I am learning that strength does not mean hiding pain or pretending everything is okay. True strength comes from vulnerability—allowing myself to feel, to ask for help, and to grow. This scholarship means more than financial support. It represents a chance to keep moving forward without the constant weight of worry. It would help me cover tuition, housing, books, and technology costs, which total around $16,000 this year. More importantly, it would give me peace of mind to focus fully on my studies and my dream. It would honor the sacrifices my family has made and help me build a future that lifts up not only myself but also those who come after me. I carry a heart full of hope and a commitment to give back. Receiving the Xavier M. Monroe Heart of Gold Memorial Scholarship would be a blessing and a purposeful reminder that perseverance and faith can overcome even the hardest battles. It would empower me to continue my education, pursue my dreams, and create meaningful change in my community. I want to live out a vision where people are valued for who they are and supported to be their best selves. This scholarship would be a vital step in that journey.

I realized my dreams mattered the day my best friend looked me in the eye and said, “Sometimes honoring God’s path for your life means letting others down.” That moment pierced something in me. I’ve always shown up for people, poured into them, encouraged them, and prayed for them. I did this only to realize that many didn’t even know what my own dreams were. That was the day I realized I had to start choosing me. Not from a place of selfishness, but from obedience. I know what God put on my heart. And I’m learning that my dreams are not just valid. They’re anointed. Right now, I’m in the fight of my life. I’m fighting to reclaim my time. To relocate to Florida and finish my bachelor’s degree. To quiet the inner voices that say I have to do it all alone, and to boldly ask for help instead of shrinking. I’ve spent years moving in silence, thinking that somehow made me stronger, but now I know it only made me lonelier. God is showing me that I don’t have to carry the weight of my calling by myself. That I can trust Him and tap into the resources He’s placed around me. Even after dropping out of college, I found myself tutoring elementary school students in reading, math, and science. It started with my niece, who had failed a vocabulary quiz and asked for help with her flashcards. The next time I saw her, her whole face lit up! She’d made an A on her retake. That moment reminded me I’ve always carried the spirit of an educator. I have a special place in my heart for young Black girls, because I was one. Too often, we are disciplined more than we are parented. I empathize deeply with children who need a little more time, a little more patience, a little more love. In school, I served as a student leader on multiple committees, helping to organize events and bring student voices to the forefront. Leadership isn’t new to me. It’s who I’ve always been, even in quiet seasons. I believe I’m called to ministry, though I don’t yet know the full capacity. What I do know is that my belief in the power of God is why I’m still here. I’m also an entrepreneur, the owner of Kania’s Kitchen. I put the business on pause out of fear that I couldn’t level up. But the truth is, God didn’t give me that vision to abandon it. Finishing my degree is about more than a diploma. It’s about honoring God. Before I first left for college, my family pastor anointed my head with oil. I didn’t understand the weight of that moment until later. The warfare I faced was real: losing my father in 2017, dropping out that same semester, getting laid off, losing my apartment, my car being repossessed. And yet, I’m still standing. Still trusting. Still becoming. This next season is my revenge. Not on people, but on every lie, every setback, every ounce of shame that tried to hold me back. My dream is to earn my bachelor’s, master’s, and eventually a PhD. To walk fully in the woman God created me to be with Godfidence. My story isn’t perfect, but it’s mine. And I will never give up on myself again. My worth is not in how flawless my journey has been. It’s in the fact that I kept going. And with this scholarship, I’ll continue building a legacy that proves to every little girl who sees me: she can, too.

Breaking generational cycles isn’t just a goal for me--it’s a responsibility I carry every day. When I started college in 2014, I was one of only 25 freshmen minority students. I didn’t see many people who looked like me, but I was determined to break the cycle of teenage motherhood that affected my mother and sisters. My mother told me, “Being the first means facing a lot of battles.” I have fought through doubt, shame, and financial struggles, but I have never lost hope. I am studying Psychology with a focus on Diversity and minoring in Leadership Studies. My goal is to earn a PhD in Organizational Psychology and create a hospitality business that centers on employee wellbeing and mental health. This dream comes from my own life experiences working in hospitality and managing mental health challenges. I want to build workplaces where people feel supported, valued, and encouraged to thrive. The journey has not been easy. In 2017, the reason I was motivated to go far in life was taken away from me. My father died. Because of this and a $900 balance I could not cover, I left school with an unfinished degree. That moment felt like the weight of the world on my shoulders, but I found the courage to return and start again. This time I know I will ask for help and accept support. My faith keeps me grounded and Jeremiah 29:11 reminds me that God has a plan for my future full of hope. This scholarship would help move the needle towards fully funding my last 4 semesters and help me focus on my studies and healing. It will bring me closer to my dreams and allow me to build a life that honors my family’s sacrifices and opens doors for others like me.

The day after my 21st birthday, my world shattered. My father died without warning, and just like that, I was no longer a daughter. I became a planner, a decision-maker, a grieving young woman forced to grow up overnight. I stood at the center of it all, organizing a funeral while holding back screams. There was no time to cry, no space to fall apart. I had to be strong, composed, and capable all while being at my lowest. But grief does not wait until you are ready. It settles in your chest, your bones, and the quiet spaces no one sees. In the months that followed, I learned my grandmother had stolen money from my younger sister’s inheritance and falsely claimed she gave it to me. It crushed me because not only had I left college after my father’s death, but I was also carrying the weight of betrayal, guilt, and confusion. I felt like a failure. I did not know who I was anymore. I was just a young Black woman trying to find her footing without the steady voice that had always guided her. I began searching for comfort in places that only deepened the pain. I fell into toxic relationships and unhealthy patterns, hoping something outside myself could quiet the chaos. I did not have the language for what I was feeling. No one had taught me how to grieve. No one had ever told me it was okay to fall apart. It was when I contemplated self harm that I knew I had to pick myself up. What saved me was surrender. I leaned fully into my faith when nothing else made sense. I poured my heart out to God. I screamed. I wept. I stopped pretending I was okay. And in that surrender, I began to rebuild—slowly, quietly, but with intention. I began therapy. I hated it at first but overtime I got the tools I needed to pick up the pieces and try to live again. Now I understand that mental health is not a side conversation. It is essential. As Black women, we are often taught to carry pain with grace, to stay strong, to push through. But strength without healing will break you. I have seen the damage it caused in the women around me. I have felt it in my own body. And I have chosen a different path. Mental health awareness has completely reshaped my life. My friendships are honest. We talk about trauma and therapy. We celebrate softness and vulnerability. I have learned to reflect on my reactions, to honor my boundaries, and to offer myself compassion. I no longer wear survival like a badge. I am learning how to live. Returning to school has been part of that healing. I am now majoring in Psychology with a concentration in Diversity and plan to minor in Leadership Studies. My goal is to earn a dual MBA and MS in Organizational Psychology, followed by a PhD. I want to build a hospitality business model where mental health is foundational, not an afterthought. One that can be taught, shared, and replicated across industries. I believe the workplace can be a space for healing when built with empathy and intention. Mental health is not just a passion. It is the reason I am still here. It has shaped how I see the world, how I love, and how I lead. It has taught me that vulnerability is power. That silence is not strength. That healing is not selfish, but necessary. I want to live in a world where Black women do not have to earn rest. Where our softness is protected. Where our pain is believed and held with care. I want to help build that world through every conversation, every classroom, and every business I touch. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my education, but honor my story—the grief, the rebuilding, and the quiet resilience that brought me here. And it would help me continue walking in this purpose, not just for myself, but for every person who has ever been told to suffer in silence.

I still remember the sound of laughter echoing across the campus courtyard the night of “Circ de Bull.” It was more than just an event—it was a moment of unity. During my time as a student leader at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg, I was fortunate to plan and execute large-scale campus events such as Homecoming Week and USFSP Week (Spirit Week). Planning events has always been a natural way for me to lead and serve others. I held positions including Director of Traditions for our campus’ Student Activities Board and later served as Director of Internal Affairs and Interim Chief of Staff for the Student Government Association. In these leadership roles, I coordinated diverse and inclusive programming that reflected the spirit and values of the student body. Whether developing creative themes, crafting detailed schedules, collaborating closely with vendors, or leading student teams, event planning gave me the opportunity to bring ideas to life and create meaningful experiences where people felt seen, included, and genuinely connected. One of my proudest achievements was receiving university-wide recognition for the "Circ de Bull" Homecoming event. This event successfully brought together students from all backgrounds in an environment filled with joy, creativity, and school pride. Additionally, I lead the planning of our “Saved by the Bull” event, a spin-off of the TV series Saved by the Bell. It was later awarded Best Student Event of the Year. In addition to winning programmatic awards I was voted 'Best Committee Chair' for exemplary leadership and this openned many doors to serve as student member to countless other campus boards. These experiences taught me the critical importance of having a clear structure, maintaining open communication, and adapting effectively to changing circumstances. Event planning often presents unexpected challenges, but I learned how to remain calm under pressure, lead with clarity, and keep the overall vision moving forward with confidence and grace. As I prepare to return to USF and complete my degree, the skills I developed through event planning remain a strong part of my foundation. I now apply the same focused mindset to organizing my academic comeback, scholarship applications, and career goals. Looking ahead, I plan to create my own hospitality group, where I understand that effective event planning will be essential for success. Whether curating employee training experiences or leading community-based events, my goal is to continue building spaces that are thoughtful, well-organized, and rooted in clear purpose and positive impact. Receiving this scholarship would greatly support me as I step into the next phase of my education and leadership journey. Planning has played a significant role in shaping who I am today, and I am eager to carry these skills forward in even greater ways to serve my community and achieve my future aspirations.

Hospitality has always been deeply personal to me. It is how I express love, how I build community, and how I have found purpose in some of the most uncertain seasons of my life. For nearly a decade, I have worked in this industry through owning my own catering and meal prep business, serving and bartending, and training others on restaurant systems and guest service. What draws me to hospitality is not just the food or the atmosphere. It is the people. It is being able to make someone’s day a little lighter and more joyful just by showing up with care. I launched Kania’s Kitchen during the pandemic at a time when so many of us were craving comfort and connection. Cooking became a way to pour into others when the world felt heavy. At the same time, I was bartending and working in restaurants, balancing entrepreneurship with service work that reminded me of my strength. Before that, I was leading campus-wide events as a student at USFSP, helping plan Homecoming and Spirit Week to create inclusive, meaningful experiences for my peers. I have also partnered with local organizations to help feed the homeless and serve meals to nonprofit groups. No matter the setting, the heart behind the work stays the same. I want people to feel seen, valued, and cared for. Even though I do not plan to stay behind the bar or on the restaurant floor forever, hospitality will always be part of my purpose. It has taught me to lead with empathy, remain steady under pressure, and bring intention into the smallest details. These lessons go far beyond service. They have shaped how I show up in every area of my life. In the future, I hope to build a hospitality group that centers people first. My dream is to create a training system similar to StrengthsFinder that helps hospitality professionals discover their unique gifts and grow in ways that feel empowering and sustainable. I believe the future of this industry depends on how well we care for the people who serve others. I want to be part of building that future. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education and grow the vision I have carried for years. Hospitality has shaped me into who I am. Now I am ready to take everything I have learned and pour it back into the world with more heart, more purpose, and more hope than ever before.

There was a moment not long ago when I hit what felt like rock bottom. I was in a city I no longer felt connected to, without a job, without a car, and without a real support system. Everything I had worked so hard to build was slipping through my fingers, and all I had left was my faith. Even in the middle of emotional pain and disappointment, I made a decision. I chose myself. I decided to believe that God still had more for me, even when my circumstances said otherwise. That choice to believe again, to bet on myself, and to keep going when it would have been easier to give up is the achievement I’m most proud of. When my car was repossessed, I learned the train system. When I lost my job, I walked to the gym just to stay active and remind myself I still had fight in me. I applied to job after job, facing rejection after rejection, until I finally stopped praying for a breakthrough and started praying for peace. That’s when I heard God speak to my heart: “Finish what you started.” I didn’t hesitate. I applied to return to school that very same day. It has been nearly ten years since I first began college. I was 17, a first-generation student, working three campus jobs to meet basic needs. I couldn’t call home for help. My father was sick and unable to support me financially. When tuition became too much and I began dealing with the grief of my father passing, I had no choice but to step away from school. I never lost the desire to finish—I just didn’t have the resources or emotional support. But today, I am coming back stronger. I’ve grown, matured, and realigned with the person I always knew I could become. Going back to college isn’t just about finishing a degree. It’s about reclaiming a part of myself that I thought was lost. It’s about honoring the promises I made to myself and to my family. And it’s about walking in purpose with the confidence that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. This season of life has taught me how to surrender, not out of defeat, but out of trust. I used to believe that if I just worked hard enough, something would eventually break through. But I’ve come to understand that peace isn’t always tied to results. Sometimes peace comes from simply showing up, one step at a time. It looks like walking to the gym when you feel stuck. It looks like applying for opportunities even after countless rejections. These small, quiet decisions have built the foundation of my resilience. I’ve also learned what it means to truly live again. I’m not too late and I’m not forgotten or disqualified. I’m learning to speak kindly to myself and to believe that God is not punishing me, but preparing me. Every detour, every pause, every “no” has been redirection toward something greater. My goal is to complete my bachelor’s degree at the University of South Florida. From there, I plan to pursue a dual graduate degree and eventually earn a PhD. I want to pour into first-generation students like myself who don’t just need financial support—they need guidance, mentorship, and someone who understands what it feels like to walk this road alone. This scholarship would ease the weight of my current financial burden. I’m preparing to move from Chicago to Tampa and will need help with housing, transportation, and basic living expenses until financial aid is released. Receiving this scholarship would allow me to focus fully on my education without the added stress of how I’ll make ends meet. Most of all, I want to be a living reminder that it’s never too late to begin again. The path may not have looked how I expected, but it has taught me strength, patience, and trust. I’m ready to walk into this next chapter with open hands and a full heart.

The day after my 21st birthday, my world collapsed. My father passed away unexpectedly, and I found myself carrying the unbearable weight of grief while planning his funeral. There was no time to process the loss, no space to fall apart. I had to be strong, manage logistics, navigate tension with unsupportive family members, and suppress my own emotions. But pain doesn’t disappear when you bury it. It finds other ways to live in your body. As I moved through the aftermath, I learned that my grandmother had stolen money from my younger sister’s inheritance and claimed she had given it to me to help with school. I was devastated. Not only had I dropped out of college due to my father’s death, but I was also carrying the weight of betrayal, guilt, and powerlessness. I didn’t know who I was anymore, especially as a young Black woman trying to navigate adulthood without her father’s presence or protection. That pain began to shape my choices in harmful ways. I ended up in toxic relationship cycles, hoping to find comfort and clarity but only deepening the confusion and self-abandonment. I was searching for my identity in all the wrong places because I had never been given the tools, or the space, to grieve, to heal, or to be seen as someone worthy of care. It wasn’t until I began leaning fully into my faith that I started to see a way forward. In the absence of family support, I turned to God with everything I had. I prayed. I cried. I began to name my pain. And when I finally gave myself permission to fall apart, I found the strength to build something new. Now, I understand that mental health is not optional or elective. It is essential. As Black women, we are often socialized to carry trauma not only emotionally, but somatically, in our literal DNA. I see the sacrifices the women in my life have made, and I understand now that healing doesn’t happen in isolation. It takes community, therapy, honesty, and courage. And it takes the belief that we deserve more than survival. That realization has changed every relationship in my life. I speak openly with my friends about our healing journeys, about what it means to be Black in therapy, Black in white spaces, and Black while undoing generational trauma. My community is one where vulnerability is not only accepted, it’s celebrated. I don’t have to carry everything alone anymore. I’ve also become more intentional about setting boundaries, asking myself deeper questions, and tracing emotional patterns back to childhood experiences and inherited pain. I’ve learned that accountability is an act of self-love. These experiences have completely reshaped my aspirations. I am now pursuing a degree in Psychology with a concentration in Diversity, and I plan to minor in Leadership Studies. Mental health is the very reason I returned to school. This second time around, I am fully present and actively participating in my success. I’m no longer driven by fear, shame, or the need to prove myself. I’m driven by purpose, by healing, and by the knowledge that I am not alone in this journey. I carried the shame of not finishing my degree for years. I want to help others unlearn that shame. I want to normalize asking for help, being celebrated, and accepting support. I want to create space for Black students, especially Black women, to be soft, held, and whole. My long-term goal is to earn a dual MBA and MS in Organizational Psychology, followed by a PhD in the same field. I plan to develop a hospitality business model that centers employee wellbeing. It will be designed to be trained, replicated, and scaled across industries, similar to the way StrengthsFinder has been used in professional development. I believe workplace culture can be a vehicle for healing when built with intentionality and compassion. Receiving the Ethel Hayes Scholarship would significantly lighten my financial burden. My estimated cost of attendance, including tuition, housing, books, and technology, is around $16,000. Financial stress was one of the main reasons I had to leave school the first time. The other was grief. This scholarship wouldn’t just help me pay for school. It would help me reclaim the dream I had to set aside when I lost my father. It would allow me to focus fully on my studies, my healing, and on building something meaningful out of the pain I’ve experienced. Mental health has shaped every part of who I am—my beliefs, my relationships, and my vision for the future. I’ve learned that being vulnerable is my superpower. I don’t have to share the depths of my heart with everyone, but I have the right to live in transparency and embrace my truth. For me, faith and mental health are not separate. They work hand in hand. One grounds me spiritually, the other emotionally, and both are vital for my growth. I want to live in a world where Black women are not only allowed but encouraged to prioritize their wellbeing. A world where our stories of grief, healing, and resilience are not buried, but uplifted. With your support, I will continue walking in that vision, not just for myself, but for every person who has ever been told to keep their pain quiet.