Most people see cosmetology as beauty. I see it as restoration, confidence, education, and healing. My goal is to become a licensed cosmetologist, certified trichologist, cosmetology educator, and the owner of a hair loss clinic and academy within the next six years. I graduate cosmetology school in September. My first step is finishing school, passing my state board exam, and becoming licensed. My immediate budget includes state board fees, licensing costs, professional tools, transportation, and continued practice materials. I expect to spend approximately $1,000–$2,000 during this transition for exam fees, supplies, licensing, and professional setup. After graduation, I am enrolling in a trichology program so I can specialize in scalp disorders, hair loss, thinning hair, alopecia, and non-surgical hair restoration. I plan to budget approximately $2,500–$6,000 for trichology education, depending on the program, materials, travel, and certification requirements. During this time, I will work in the beauty industry to support myself while continuing to build my experience in wigs, extensions, cranial prosthetics, and client consultations. My next goal is to work in a hair loss clinic or salon that specializes in hair replacement, extensions, scalp health, or restoration services. This step is important because I need hands-on experience with real clients, scalp analysis, consultations, treatment planning, and professional clinic operations. I will also continue saving a portion of my income toward advanced training, equipment, business registration, insurance, marketing, and future studio costs. Within years three to four, I plan to pursue my cosmetology educator license. This will allow me to teach legally and prepare for the academy side of my future business. I expect to budget for educator training, application fees, testing fees, teaching materials, and continuing education. Within six years, I am opening a hair loss clinic that also includes an academy for beauty professionals. My estimated startup budget for the clinic includes rent or suite costs, licensing, insurance, scalp analysis equipment, sanitation supplies, wig-making tools, marketing, website development, professional products, business software, and emergency savings. I expect this phase to require a larger investment of approximately $25,000–$75,000, depending on whether I begin with a smaller suite or a full clinic space. My resources will include cosmetology licensing, trichology education, hands-on clinic experience, mentors, business courses, professional networking, social media marketing, client testimonials, savings, scholarships, grants, and possibly small business funding. I am also considering multiple paths for success. If opening a full clinic takes longer than expected, I will begin with a smaller private studio or salon suite focused on hair loss services while building revenue. If I need more experience, I will continue working under established professionals until I am fully prepared to operate independently. This plan matters because cosmetology programs often do not teach enough about hair loss, scalp health, or realistic hair restoration. I want my clinic to help clients regain confidence, and I want my academy to teach stylists the deeper education the industry is missing. “Plan your work, work your plan” reflects exactly how I am approaching my future. My dream is not vague. It has a timeline, a budget, resources, backup plans, and a purpose. I am not only planning to enter the beauty industry; I am planning to help change it.

“God is within her, she will not fall.” — Psalm 46:5 The year before my mother passed away was the closest I had ever been to God. I was praying constantly, rebuilding my faith, and fully surrendering my life to Him. So when I lost her, I was angry and confused. I could not understand how I had finally given my life to God only to experience the greatest heartbreak of my life right after. Losing my mother broke me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. I lost trust in God and honestly lost myself for a long time. One night, the grief became so heavy that I ran a bath and sat there thinking about how peaceful it would feel to disappear underwater and make the pain stop. I was alone in the house when suddenly the front door opened wide. To most people, that moment may sound small. To me, it felt like God interrupting my darkest moment before I gave up on myself completely. Looking back now, I realize God had already given me something to carry me through my pain — a gift. Hair became the place where I poured my grief, my emotions, and eventually my purpose. One of the hardest yet most meaningful moments of my life was doing my mother’s hair for her funeral. Even in the middle of devastating grief, I felt blessed that God allowed me to care for her one last time through the talent He gave me. In that moment, hair became more than beauty to me. It became healing, dignity, and love. After losing my mother, stress and depression caused me to lose my own hair too. Looking in the mirror and feeling disconnected from myself made me understand firsthand the emotional pain so many people silently carry. I now realize God was not trying to break me — He was preparing me. Every loss, setback, and painful experience was molding me into someone capable of helping others heal. Today, at 30 years old, I am back in cosmetology school and preparing to enroll in trichology school because I finally understand my calling. I believe God placed me in this field so I can restore confidence, healing, and identity in people during vulnerable moments in their lives. My faith now helps me see purpose in my pain. I want my future career in cosmetology and trichology to reflect the same compassion, healing, and restoration God gave me when I felt completely broken. Even when I lost faith in Him, He never stopped carrying me toward my purpose.

Growing up as a low-income Black woman, I constantly heard people treat cosmetology like it was not a “real” career. In my community, hairstyling was often viewed as something all Black women simply knew how to do, not something worthy of education, respect, or long-term success. People saw the finished hairstyle, but they did not see the artistry, the science, the discipline, or the impact behind it. Pursuing this field while also navigating financial limitations made it even harder to view it as something with stability or long-term opportunity. For years, I believed those limitations myself. I thought success in beauty only meant gaining clients, posting content online, and making money from hair. Even while I was talented and building clientele, I did not fully understand how many avenues truly existed within this field because those conversations were rarely happening around me. Everything changed after experiencing hair loss and grief personally following the loss of my mother. I began to understand that cosmetology is not just beauty — it is healing, restoration, confidence, and care. That realization pushed me to pursue more than traditional hairstyling and become a certified cranial prosthesis specialist while returning to cosmetology school at 30 years old. What many people do not realize is that beauty professionals can become specialists in areas such as trichology, hair restoration, scalp health, and cranial prosthetics. We are not “just hairstylists.” We are artists, entrepreneurs, educators, scientists, and confidence restorers. We help people during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives, whether they are experiencing hair loss, illness, trauma, postpartum changes, or insecurity. One thing I have noticed is that fields like trichology are still not widely recognized or supported the way traditional trades are. Many people do not even know these career paths exist, and because of that, there is often limited access to federal aid, scholarships, and educational opportunities compared to more traditional vocational paths. That lack of visibility is one of the reasons I feel so strongly about speaking up and creating change within this industry. My goal is not only to build a successful career for myself, but to open a hair academy and hair loss clinic that educates and empowers other women — especially Black women and underrepresented individuals — to see cosmetology as a respected, impactful, and limitless profession. I want young women who are constantly told “doing hair is not a real career” to see someone who challenged that mindset and built purpose from it. I plan to use my voice, education, and future business to advocate for greater recognition of specialized beauty careers like trichology and cranial prosthetics. I want to help create more opportunities, resources, and respect for women entering this field. Cosmetology deserves to be viewed as more than social media content or a side hustle. It is a profession capable of changing lives, restoring confidence, and creating generational impact.

“Doing hair isn’t a real career.” That is something I heard constantly growing up as a Black woman. Cosmetology was often treated like something small — something “all Black girls do” — instead of a respected profession with purpose, education, and impact. Even my mother would bring home pamphlets for jobs she believed were more secure or respectable, like becoming a mail carrier, while I was already making money doing hair. And honestly, for a long time, I believed the stereotypes too. I thought success in cosmetology only meant getting clients, posting content, making wigs, and making money online. I did not fully understand the depth of this industry yet. But hair chose me long before I chose it. I was the little girl going to school with bobby pins in my curls so they would fall perfectly by lunchtime while my mom laughed and said, “You’re going to school, not a fashion show.” Hair was never just beauty to me. It was art. It was expression. It was identity. It was the one thing that came naturally to me without effort. As I got older, I sacrificed my social life throughout my late teens and twenties to perfect my craft. While people my age were outside partying and enjoying life, I was spending my money on hair classes, mannequins, products, bundles, and learning every technique I could. I became known for wigs and hairstyling, but my purpose became much bigger after losing my mother. One of the hardest things I have ever done was her hair for her funeral. In the middle of unimaginable grief, doing her hair felt like the final act of love I could give her. That moment changed me forever because it showed me that hair is deeply connected to dignity, confidence, healing, and identity. After losing her, stress and grief affected my own hair and confidence too. Watching my hair change forced me to understand firsthand how emotional hair loss can be. That experience completely changed my vision for my future. I no longer wanted to just “do hair.” I wanted to restore people. At 30 years old, I made the decision to return to cosmetology school and become a certified cranial prosthesis specialist because I want to break the stereotypes surrounding beauty professionals, especially Black women in this industry. We are more than hairstylists. We are artists, scientists, healers, entrepreneurs, trichologists, and confidence restorers. People need us during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives — after illness, hair loss, trauma, postpartum changes, or deep insecurity. The impact we make goes far beyond appearance. My dream is to open a hair loss clinic and academy that not only helps people restore their confidence, but also educates and empowers future beauty professionals to see this industry differently. I want young Black women to understand they do not have to stay inside the small box society places them in. Cosmetology can be innovative, medical, life-changing, and deeply purposeful when taken seriously. I want my legacy to be bigger than hairstyles. I want to change the way people view this profession and the people within it. Because cosmetology is not “just hair.” It is healing. It is transformation. It is purpose.

I am passionate about pursuing cosmetology, specifically hair restoration, wigs, extensions, and cranial prosthetics for people experiencing hair loss or thinning hair. What inspires me most about this trade is that it goes far beyond beauty. Hair can restore confidence, identity, dignity, and healing for people during some of the hardest moments of their lives. The truth is, I never chose hair — hair chose me. From the time I was young, it came naturally to me. I used to go to school with bobby pins in my hair so my curls would fall perfectly by lunchtime, and my mom would laugh and say, “You’re going to school, not a fashion show.” Looking back now, I realize those little moments were signs of who I was becoming. I was always the person braiding, styling, experimenting, and creating. What others saw as a hobby, I felt in my spirit as purpose. Throughout my late teens and twenties, I sacrificed a normal social life to invest in my craft. While other people my age were outside enjoying life, I was spending my money on hair classes, mannequins, products, bundles, and learning every technique I could. I poured everything into becoming better because I knew this gift was bigger than me. The person who inspired me most was my mother. One of the hardest things I have ever experienced was doing her hair for her funeral after she passed away. Even in the middle of grief, doing her hair felt like the last act of love and care I could give her. That moment changed me forever because it made me realize hair is never “just hair.” It is deeply connected to confidence, identity, healing, and the way people see themselves. After losing my mother, the stress and grief affected my own hair and confidence as well. Watching my hair change made me understand firsthand how emotional hair loss can be. That experience inspired me to focus my career on helping people who may be silently struggling with the same feelings. I want people to sit in my chair and leave feeling like themselves again. Reading about Calvin C. Donelson resonated with me deeply because he understood the value of skilled trades and building something meaningful through passion and hard work. Like Calvin, I believe trades are more than jobs — they are opportunities to create impact, help others, and build a lasting legacy with your hands. Cosmetology became more than a career path for me. It became healing, purpose, and proof that skilled trades can truly change lives. My goal is not only to build a successful future for myself, but to help people regain confidence during moments when they may feel like they are losing pieces of themselves. That is the impact I hope to leave through the trade I love.

Mothers are often defined as women who physically have children, adopt children, or become stepmothers. But what about women like me, who unexpectedly become a mother figure after losing our own? At 25 years old, I lost my mother suddenly. There were no warnings, no time to prepare emotionally or financially, and no plan for what happened next. There was no father to turn to, no safety net, and no time to fully grieve because overnight, everything changed. My mother was the caretaker, the provider, the nurse, and the person who somehow made everything work without anyone realizing how much she carried. When she passed, I went from being a young woman who still needed her mother to becoming the person my younger siblings depended on for everything. My sister was only 12 years old, and my brother was 16 when they lost their world. At the time, I was attending cosmetology school, but after losing my mother, I dropped out. Mentally, emotionally, and financially, I was no longer in a position to continue. Survival became more important than my dreams. One of the most challenging parts of my journey was trying to balance grief, financial hardship, mental health struggles, and the responsibility of helping raise my siblings while still trying to figure out my own life. There were times I felt like I had to completely put myself aside in order to keep everyone else together. But becoming a “sister mom” also became the most fulfilling part of my life. Doing everything I could to guide, support, and instill values into my siblings gave me purpose during one of the darkest periods of my life. Today, seeing who they are becoming reminds me why I never gave up. My younger brother is now a barber, and my younger sister is an honor student in her first year of nursing school. Watching them continue pursuing their dreams after everything we experienced together is one of my proudest accomplishments. Now, at 30 years old, I am finally finishing cosmetology school while continuing my education in trichology and hair loss studies. My own experience with stress-related hair loss led me to become a certified cranial prosthesis specialist, where I now help women experiencing hair loss due to trauma, stress, chemotherapy, and medical conditions regain confidence and feel like themselves again. My education represents more than a career to me. It represents stability, healing, and breaking cycles for my family. Through my education, I hope to build a successful business and wellness center focused on restorative beauty and hair loss solutions so I can continue helping others while also creating financial security and opportunities for my siblings and future generations. Losing my mother forced me into a role I was never prepared for, but it also taught me resilience, sacrifice, and unconditional love. Even through grief and hardship, I chose to keep going — not only for myself, but for the family depending on me.

“Never be limited by other people’s limited imaginations.” — Dr. Mae Jemison As a Black woman in the beauty industry, I’ve spent years fighting against being placed into a box. People often reduce Black hairstylists to stereotypes — “all Black girls do hair,” “it’s just hair,” or “I can do that myself.” What they don’t see are the years of education, sacrifice, artistry, and emotional labor behind the work. They don’t see the sleepless nights spent perfecting a craft, the missed meals and social life sacrificed to afford classes and training, or the strength it takes to continue pursuing a dream that many people around you don’t fully support or understand. For over ten years, I fought to finish cosmetology school. Not because I lacked passion, but because life continuously interrupted my journey. I lost my mother, struggled deeply with my mental health, faced financial hardships, and experienced severe stress-related hair loss that affected my confidence and identity as a woman. Then came COVID, setbacks, losing my private studio, and moments where I completely lost faith in myself and my future. But somewhere in all of that pain, I found purpose. Experiencing hair loss firsthand opened my eyes to how deeply hair is connected to confidence, healing, and identity. Instead of allowing my struggles to consume me, I became determined to help others experiencing the same thing. That journey led me to become a certified cranial prosthesis specialist, where I began creating and installing custom wigs for individuals experiencing hair loss due to medical conditions, chemotherapy, trauma, and stress. Too often, women are told their hair loss is “normal,” stress-related, hormonal, or simply something they should accept. Too often, Black women are overlooked, unheard, or made to feel invisible in medical and beauty spaces. I remember being told that hair loss was “common in Black women,” as if that alone was supposed to make me accept it instead of searching for answers or proper care. That moment stayed with me because I realized how many women are expected to normalize their pain instead of being truly helped. At 30 years old, I’m still continuing my education because I refuse to stop at “just being a hairstylist.” I’m currently finishing cosmetology school while furthering my education in trichology because I want to bridge the gap between beauty, education, and hair loss advocacy for women who deserve more than being dismissed. I proudly call myself a forever student because my education will never stop. I want my community to value hairstylists — especially Black hairstylists — as educated professionals, innovators, educators, and leaders, not just people who “do hair.” I’m more than a Black woman who makes wigs. I’m someone using beauty as a form of restoration, confidence, healing, and advocacy. My goal is to become the person women turn to after feeling dismissed everywhere else.

I was blessed with this skill early—and I refuse to let lack of funding be the reason I can’t take it where it needs to go. I am pursuing cosmetology with a focus on medical wigs and cranial prosthesis because this is not optional work—it’s essential. Medical wigs serve individuals experiencing hair loss due to chemotherapy, alopecia, and other conditions. These are not clients looking for style. They are people trying to maintain a sense of normalcy during difficult, often life-altering situations. I am committed to becoming the specialist who can provide that at the highest level. From a young age, I recognized I had a natural ability to work with hair. I understood how to make it look real, how it should fall, and how to construct styles that others struggled to achieve. Over time, I developed that ability through years of hands-on experience with sew-ins and wigs. Now, I am focused on advancing that skill into a specialized career in medical wig construction—where precision, realism, and technical knowledge are critical. My next step is to advance my education through a program specifically focused on medical wigs and cranial prosthesis. This level of training is necessary for me to meet professional standards and provide the quality of work that clients in medical situations require. However, this is where I am facing a real financial barrier. As a full-time cosmetology student, I am already responsible for tuition, materials, and daily living expenses. Advancing into a specialized program adds significant additional costs, including tuition, tools, and high-quality hair needed for medical-grade work. These are not optional investments—they are required to properly learn and perform at this level. Without financial support, I am forced to slow down my progress and limit my ability to train at the level I know I’m capable of. This scholarship would directly impact my ability to move forward. It would allow me to transition into a medical wig-focused program, invest in the proper materials, and continue building my skill without constant financial limitations holding me back. I am not trying to find my path—I am already on it. I have the skill, the direction, and the discipline. What I need is the opportunity to advance. And I’m ready to take it.

How I Am Addressing My Current and Future Student Loan Debt When I lost my mother, my life split into a before and an after. Grief did not pause responsibility. I became the primary support system for my younger sister, and for a time, I stepped away from school because survival came first. Returning to my education required more than motivation. It required a plan grounded in responsibility. Today, I am raising my sister while supporting her through college. Every financial decision I make reflects that reality. I am not planning for student loan repayment someday.... I am managing it now. I take on every flexible job available to me, including cleaning homes, working at a gym, and accepting additional gigs that fit around my class schedule. These roles allow me to remain enrolled full time while meeting our financial needs without excessive borrowing. I have already taken concrete steps to reduce my debt. I used my tax refund to pay down debt from my first enrollment in school and to contribute directly toward my sister’s education. That money could have gone toward personal relief. Instead, I chose long-term stability. This choice reflects how seriously I take both my education and my financial obligations. I am limiting future borrowing by transferring eligible cosmetology hours to shorten my program and reduce tuition costs. I carefully review loan disbursements and accept only what is necessary to complete my education. I also apply consistently for scholarships. Every dollar awarded is a dollar I do not have to repay with interest, which is critical when balancing education, family responsibility, and debt. My long-term repayment strategy is built on stability and specialization. I am training as a cranial prosthesis and hair-loss specialist, serving individuals experiencing medical hair loss. This field allows for immediate income after licensure and provides a scalable career path beyond hourly work. My education is directly tied to consistent earnings, making responsible repayment achievable. Once repayment begins, I plan to prioritize interest early and increase principal payments as my income grows. I actively track my loans, interest accrual, and repayment options to remain informed and accountable. I view my education as an investment that must be honored through disciplined repayment. Scholarships are not a convenience for me. They are essential. This support would reduce long-term debt, accelerate repayment, and allow me to complete my education without compromising my sister’s future or my own financial stability. I am not asking for sympathy. I am asking for support in continuing the work I am already doing—finishing my education, managing my debt responsibly, and building a stable future for more than just myself. Karis Johnson Future Cosmetologist & Trichologist

I Didn’t Choose Beauty—It Chose Me My name is Karis Johnson, and my decision to enter the beauty industry was shaped by grief, responsibility, and love—not by trend, glamour, or surface-level beauty. I did not choose cosmetology because I wanted to make people look different. I chose it because I learned firsthand how much it matters to feel like yourself when everything else in life feels uncertain. I have seen how illness and loss can quietly take things from a person long before anyone notices. Hair loss is often dismissed as cosmetic, but I know it is deeply emotional. It alters identity, confidence, and the way someone moves through the world. When a person is already fighting for their health, losing their hair can feel like losing the last piece of control they have over their own body. That understanding is what led me to pursue specialized training in hair-loss solutions, medical wigs, and cranial prostheses. This work is personal to me. I am building my education around serving individuals facing cancer, alopecia, and other medical challenges because I believe no one should feel invisible during the hardest moments of their life. Creating medical wigs is not just a technical skill—it is an act of care. It requires listening, patience, and respect for someone’s story. Every piece represents trust, and I carry that responsibility seriously. My goal is to create more than transformations—I want to create safety. I want my clients to sit in my chair knowing they will not be rushed, judged, or minimized. I want them to leave not just with hair, but with the confidence to show up to doctor appointments, family gatherings, and everyday life feeling like themselves again. For someone battling illness, that moment of recognition in the mirror can be powerful enough to restore hope. I plan to make a positive impact on the world by building a purpose-driven beauty career that centers compassion, ethics, and accessibility. I want to raise the standard of care within the beauty industry by educating others on the emotional responsibility that comes with hair-loss services. This field requires more than talent it requires humanity. Pursuing this education has not been easy, but it is necessary. I am committed to completing my training and continuing advanced education so I can serve my community with excellence. Scholarship support is not just financial assistance to me, it is an investment in a career dedicated to helping people reclaim dignity, confidence, and identity when they need it most. Beauty, to me, is not about perfection. It is about restoration. It is about meeting people in their most vulnerable moments and giving them back something they thought was lost. That is the impact I will make through my career, and that is the responsibility I am choosing to carry forward.

Restoring More Than Hair I remember the moment I realized beauty could change how someone moves through the world. A woman sat in front of the mirror, quietly adjusting her hair so it would cover the thinning spots she was trying to hide. She wasn’t being dramatic. She wasn’t asking for sympathy. She just didn’t feel like herself anymore. Watching her struggle with something so personal made me understand that hair loss isn’t cosmetic—it’s emotional. That moment stayed with me, and it’s the reason I chose cosmetology. My name is Karis Johnson, and I’m a cosmetology student pursuing this career with intention. I didn’t enter the beauty industry for trends or aesthetics. I entered it because I’ve seen how deeply appearance, identity, and confidence are connected. When hair is lost—whether through medical conditions, stress, or life changes—it often takes confidence with it. I want to be someone who helps restore that sense of self. As a student, I’m focused on developing both technical skill and emotional awareness. My goal is to specialize in hair-loss solutions, including wigs, extensions, and restorative techniques for people experiencing thinning, alopecia, or medical hair loss. I want clients to feel safe in my chair—not rushed, judged, or confused. Sometimes the most important part of the service is simply being understood. Pursuing cosmetology has not been easy financially. Trade school tuition, supplies, and specialized education require real sacrifice. There have been moments where I’ve had to choose between investing in my education or managing everyday expenses. Still, I continue forward because I believe this work matters. I see my education as an investment not just in my future, but in the people who will trust me during vulnerable moments. What matters most to me is creating honest, accessible spaces within the beauty industry. Too often, people seeking hair-loss solutions are met with misinformation or pressure instead of care. I want my work to be different—rooted in transparency, education, and respect. Long term, I hope to mentor future cosmetology students who feel unsure of their place or discouraged by financial barriers. I know what it feels like to want something deeply while navigating limitations, and I want to be proof that persistence and purpose can open doors. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial pressure of my education and allow me to fully focus on developing the skills needed to serve others at a high level. More importantly, it would affirm my commitment to a career centered on service, empathy, and impact. I plan to use my career to restore confidence, change how hair loss is talked about, and help people feel like themselves again. That moment in front of the mirror showed me what this work could mean—and it’s what continues to guide me forward.

Karis Johnson Personal Statement – Journaling, Growth, and Education. I lost my mother suddenly in the middle of my school years. She came home one day, laid down, and never woke up. Later, it was discovered that her drink had been spiked. The shock and betrayal were overwhelming, and I felt as if my world had been ripped apart. Losing her left me untethered, consumed by grief, anger, and sadness, and unsure how to move forward. I became confrontational and defensive, pushing people away while trying to cope with a pain I didn’t know how to face. One of the hardest moments was preparing for her funeral. I did her hair myself — my hands carefully arranging each strand, knowing this was my last gift to her in this life. That experience stayed with me. It was both heartbreaking and grounding, reminding me that even in my deepest sorrow, I could create something meaningful, care for others, and hold on to love in action. Journaling became essential to my healing. I would write about my grief, my anger, and my fears. I wrote letters to my mother, expressing things I wished I could tell her, and releasing emotions I could not speak aloud. Journaling helped me confront my feelings honestly, understand my reactions, and slowly find clarity. It taught me that acknowledging pain is not weakness, and that writing can transform chaos into focus and self-awareness. I am currently enrolled in cosmetology school, and continuing my education has become a vital part of my recovery and purpose. Education gives me structure, stability, and a path forward. I am pursuing a career in cosmetology and specializing in hair loss because I know what it feels like to lose confidence, both personally and seeing it in others. Teaching myself to create custom wigs, and using my skills to restore confidence, has become a source of purpose. I want to turn my experiences into a career that empowers others while building a stable future for myself and my family. The biggest influence in my life will always be my mother. Her strength, love, and unwavering support guide me even in her absence. I am also inspired by women who have transformed personal adversity into action, who have faced challenges and created meaningful change. Their resilience reminds me that the way we respond to hardship can shape not only our future, but the lives of those around us. Losing my mother taught me lessons I never wanted to learn, but they have shaped the person I am today. I have learned to face grief, manage my emotions through journaling, and channel pain into growth and purpose. Through continuing my education in cosmetology, I am determined to create a life that honors her memory, helps others regain confidence, and builds a future I can be proud of.

Karis Johnson Personal Statement – Mental Health, Growth, and Recovery My mother was not sick. There was no warning, no hospital room, no chance to prepare myself for life without her. She came home one day, laid down, and never woke up. I woke up to a reality that shattered everything I knew. It was later discovered that her drink had been spiked by someone she trusted. In an instant, my world collapsed. Grief was layered with shock, anger, and betrayal. I lost not only my mother, but my sense of safety, stability, and trust in the world. Losing her in the middle of my education broke me in ways I did not yet have the language to explain. She was my foundation, my motivator, and my emotional anchor. Without her, I spiraled. My mental health declined rapidly, and I struggled with depression, anxiety, and emotional numbness. I became angry and confrontational, constantly on edge, carrying pain that had nowhere to go. I didn’t know how to process what had happened, so I tried to avoid it. I used substances and alcohol to numb my emotions, to quiet my thoughts, and to escape a reality that felt unbearable. What I told myself was coping was actually self-destruction. Eventually, the weight of everything I had been avoiding caught up with me. I reached a breaking point where the pain felt endless and impossible to escape. I attempted to end my life. Surviving that moment forced me to confront a hard truth: I didn’t want to die — I wanted the pain to stop. That realization became the beginning of my recovery. It didn’t erase my grief, but it showed me that my life still had meaning, even after unimaginable loss. Recovery was not immediate or easy. It required honesty, accountability, and patience with myself. I had to face how I used substances and alcohol to avoid my grief and how anger had become my armor. Through therapy, self-reflection, and creating structure in my life, I began learning healthier ways to cope. I learned how to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of running from them, how to recognize my triggers, and how to ask for help without shame. Recovery taught me that strength isn’t pretending to be okay — it’s choosing to heal even when it hurts. During this period, I also experienced severe stress-related hair loss. Watching my hair fall out felt like losing another piece of myself. It mirrored how exposed and powerless I felt inside. That experience led me to cosmetology and hair loss solutions. I taught myself how to create custom, handmade wigs, spending hours with hair in my hands, carefully restoring what stress and trauma had taken away. This work became grounding for me. Helping others regain confidence helped me rebuild my own, and it gave my pain a purpose. Returning to school was one of the hardest decisions I’ve made, but also one of the most important. I returned while managing my mental health, maintaining my recovery, working overnight, and helping support my family. Education became part of my healing. It gave me structure when my life felt chaotic and a future to work toward when hope felt distant. My academic goal is to complete cosmetology school and continue my education to specialize in hair loss. I want to be someone who provides not only cosmetic solutions, but understanding, care, and dignity to people whose confidence has been impacted by trauma, stress, or loss. Today, my recovery is intentional and ongoing. I prioritize my mental health, avoid substances, maintain routines, and stay honest with myself. I no longer rely on avoidance to survive. I stay connected to supportive resources, practice self-awareness, and hold myself accountable. Recovery, for me, is not a destination — it is a daily commitment to choosing life, stability, and growth, even on difficult days. The loss of my mother changed me forever. It exposed me to grief, betrayal, and pain I never imagined surviving. But it also revealed my resilience. I am not defined by my lowest moments or the ways I struggled to cope. I am defined by my decision to live, to heal, and to keep going. Through education, recovery, and purpose-driven work, I am building a future rooted in strength, compassion, and meaning.

Karis Johnson I wake up at 2 a.m., exhausted from an overnight shift, my mind already racing to schoolwork, bills, and my siblings. Life doesn’t stop because you’re tired. Some nights, I handle hair tangled in combs, strands in my hands, turning them into custom wigs for women who have lost confidence. I’ve done this for myself, for my clients, and for anyone who felt invisible. Cosmetology isn’t just a career for me—it’s a lifeline, a way to transform loss into purpose. Every wig I finish is proof that I can turn struggle into skill, and ambition into impact. I chose this trade because I’ve lived its urgency. Losing my mom in the middle of school shattered my world. I had to grow up fast, care for my siblings, and navigate grief while trying to stay enrolled. I even did her hair for her funeral—a moment of heartbreak and clarity that reminded me of her strength, love, and the lessons she instilled in me. I refused to let her death stop me. I taught myself to make handmade wigs, painstakingly turning fallen hair in my hands into something that could restore confidence. Each client who leaves my chair with hope renewed confirms why this trade is my calling. I will be successful in this trade because I’ve learned to turn exhaustion into focus and loss into motivation. Cosmetology requires precision, creativity, and empathy—all skills I’ve sharpened through life’s challenges. Balancing school, overnight work, family responsibilities, and financial strain has forced me to become disciplined, resourceful, and relentless. I approach every client with care, professionalism, and understanding, knowing that what I create can change how they see themselves. My personal experience with hair loss gives me insight and solutions that most professionals overlook. I don’t just do hair—I rebuild confidence, and I do it with my own hands, guided by experience and determination. Success, to me, is independence, impact, and purpose. It’s being able to support my family, complete my education, and build a career that allows me to change lives every day. Completing cosmetology school and specializing in hair loss is my pathway to that life. I know I will succeed because I have no choice—ambition drives me, necessity fuels me, and every struggle I’ve faced has prepared me to rise above. Cosmetology is not just a job—it is my mission, my way to honor my mom, and my way to ensure that loss never defines the women I help.

Karis Johnson – Impact of My Mother My mother was the heart and foundation of our family. She raised seven girls and one boy, and I was blessed to experience her as a mom in ways that went far beyond the ordinary. She adjusted herself to each of our personalities and needs, always putting her children above everything else. She instilled love, confidence, a deep respect for education, and a sense of class in each of us. It’s hard to find words to describe her—she was truly heaven-sent, too perfect for this world. She wiped our tears, cheered us on, and became eight moms in one so each of us had the attention and care we needed. She never missed a play, talent show, or photoshoot. She was our army, our teacher, our friend, our assistant—whatever we needed, she was there. I lost my mom while I was in school, and that loss shook the foundation of my life. Her guidance, support, and constant encouragement had been my anchor, and suddenly I felt adrift. I struggled to continue without her presence, unsure how to move forward with my goals while carrying the weight of grief. After her passing, I did her hair for her funeral—a deeply emotional moment that reminded me of the lessons she had always taught me: perseverance, self-belief, and the importance of finishing what I start. That act, small as it seemed, became a turning point. It reminded me that even though she was no longer physically with me, her influence remained in everything I do. Her loss has profoundly shaped my journey. It forced me to grow up quickly, take on responsibilities for my siblings, and confront challenges I never expected. I returned to school determined to finish what I started, honoring the values she instilled in me. Her example of strength, compassion, and unwavering support continues to inspire me every day. Whenever I feel doubt or fear, I think of her courage and the life she dedicated to her children. That memory drives me to persevere, to continue striving toward my dreams, and to be a source of support and love for others, just as she was for me. Even though she is no longer physically present, her spirit is my guide. I carry her strength when I am weak, her courage when I am unsure, her smile when I am sad, and her confidence when I doubt myself. I will keep her memory alive in everything I do, letting her lessons shape the person I become and the choices I make. Losing her was the hardest challenge of my life, but her legacy gives me the determination to move forward, achieve my goals, and make her proud.

Karis Johnson – Brandon Edreff Scholarship Application My name is Karis Johnson, and I am pursuing a career in cosmetology with a focus on hair loss specialization. I have always been passionate about helping others feel confident and empowered, and my work creating custom wigs for women experiencing hair loss has become both my skill and my purpose. I discovered my passion through personal experience, facing hair loss myself due to stress and life challenges. Experiencing that struggle firsthand, I realized how isolating and frustrating it can be when no solutions are offered. That motivated me to teach myself how to create handmade wigs that help women feel whole again, turning my personal hardship into a way to serve others. My journey has not been easy. While in school, I faced profound grief and financial challenges that forced me to pause my education and take on the responsibility of caring for my younger siblings. Giving up was not in my mom’s plan for me, so I returned to school determined to finish what I started. Balancing overnight work, school during the day, and family responsibilities has been exhausting, but every challenge reminds me why I chose this path. Each client I help, every smile I see when they feel confident again, fuels my commitment to mastering my craft and continuing my education. My mom lives within me. She is assertive, supportive, and embodies everything I strive to be. She gives me courage when I feel weak, strength when I feel vulnerable, a smile when I’m sad, and confidence when I doubt myself. Her spirit guides me every day, inspiring me to persevere through challenges and pursue my dreams. I will keep her memory alive, and I know she is cheering me on. She instilled in me the belief that hard work, determination, and compassion can change lives, and I carry that with me in everything I do. This scholarship would provide critical support to help cover tuition and school-related expenses, reducing the financial burden that makes completing my education so challenging. With this assistance, I could focus fully on my cosmetology training and licensing requirements, as well as pursue additional education to become a hair loss specialist—a field where women are often overlooked or dismissed. By developing my skills and knowledge, I will be able to help more women regain confidence, navigate hair loss with dignity, and feel empowered in their own lives. I deserve this scholarship because I have shown resilience, dedication, and a commitment to turning personal challenges into opportunities to help others. Losing my mom while in school, stepping into a caretaker role, and facing financial strain could have stopped me, but I returned stronger and more determined than ever. Supporting my education through this scholarship will allow me to achieve my goals, continue caring for my family, and build a career that honors my mom’s influence and makes a meaningful difference in the lives of others.

My love for beauty started long before I realized it was my purpose. When my older sister moved out, I had no choice but to learn how to do my own hair. My mom would laugh and say, “You’re going to school, not a fashion show,” but for me, it was never about showing off. I was the girl with a brush, edge control, and lip gloss in her bag—the one who always made sure her hair was perfect because it made her feel powerful. What began as curiosity turned into a calling. I started doing my friends’ hair, then friends of friends, until my family’s pool room became a full salon. I didn’t see it as business back then—I just loved helping people feel beautiful. My parents didn’t understand it at first. They wanted stability, not curling irons and bundles. I was told doing hair wouldn’t lead to a real career, but I believed in my gift. I invested my last $50—money I couldn’t afford to lose—into my first hair class. That single risk changed everything. I saved for months to travel to Florida to perfect my wig-making and installation techniques. I built a clientele from nothing, launched a line of custom hair accessories that sold out, and eventually, my mom saw the vision she once questioned. She became my biggest supporter. Seeing her proud meant everything. Then, in 2020, my world stopped. I lost my mom, and I did her hair for her final viewing. That moment shattered me. My hands, once my source of strength, felt empty. People grieve differently—some stop eating, some stop sleeping. I stopped doing hair. Without my mother, it felt like I’d lost the very thing that made me me. I wasn’t just grieving her—I was grieving my purpose. Soon after, I lost my uncle, my biggest encourager, who always told me I’d make it. Before he passed, I promised him I would finish hair school. I’ve tried again and again, but life kept throwing challenges my way. I opened a salon suite and built a brand I loved, but grief took over. I lost focus, lost my space, and eventually had to step back to heal. Now, at 30, I finally feel ready and worthy. I work as a salon assistant, earning $10 an hour, and I couldn’t be prouder. Any other job, I wouldn’t accept that wage—but beauty feeds my soul. Every client I shampoo, every conversation I have, reminds me why I’m here. I’m rebuilding from the ground up, but this time, I’m doing it with faith and clarity. Creating custom medical wigs for women experiencing hair loss has reminded me why I started. Seeing a woman look at herself and smile again after losing her hair to cancer or alopecia is indescribable. My brand, So Slèk, is about luxury, compassion, and restoration—it’s not just hair, it’s healing. As a Brown woman in beauty, I know we are the blueprint. We create the looks, set the trends, and define what beauty means. Yet, our own community doesn’t always value stylists the way others do. I want to change that—to open a school that teaches advanced extensions and medical wig artistry, giving stylists the tools to build careers with pride and purpose. I know hardships will always come—they’re a part of life. But now, I also know what it’s like not to push toward my full potential. This time, I want to see what happens when I give everything I have. I’ve survived grief. Now, I’m ready to grow through it—and become everything I was meant to be.