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.