In 2022, only about a quarter of indigenous people under the age of twenty-four were enrolled in colleges. This number has continued to go down, and it likely will continue as long as there’s a lack of resources available to indigenous youths. I’m lucky enough to be one of the Native Americans with access to a higher education, but not many of us get that chance. I’m able to go to college to pursue my dreams of becoming an author and using my novels to spread awareness about problems in our society, including the continued struggles of Native Americans. But if I had a charity where I could actively make changes and raise that awareness, I would take full advantage of the opportunity. In this charity, myself and volunteers would travel through the United States to educate indigenous youth on their options after high school. This is not something that was available to my dad and his siblings, all members of the Monacan Indian Nation, and only one of them was able to graduate from both high school and from college. The easiest way to reach students would be through schools, but we could also provide online seminars to make our mission accessible for kids that weren’t able to complete high school but are still considering college. We would present about getting a higher education versus going straight into the workforce and what might work best for students, depending on their ambitions and aspirations. If we couldn’t partner directly with colleges, we would guide students through the process of picking a school, preview days, and applications to make sure they felt supported and seen. One of the main factors that prevents indigenous students from attending universities is poverty. In my home state of Washington, almost eighteen percent of Native Americans live in poverty as of 2026. The problem is much worse in South Dakota, where forty-five percent of the states’ 64,000 Native Americans are impoverished, according to worldpopulationreview.com. Students that struggle to make ends meet feel that they can’t afford to even think about college, but there are so many scholarships and grants available. This is where the lack of resources comes in. If students can’t pay for college but don’t know what tools are at their disposal, how are they supposed to feel optimistic about their future? That is one problem that I believe my charity would solve—at the very least, we would provide hope to students that want a higher education but currently can’t afford it. While I’m currently not involved in a charity designed for indigenous youth, I’m using my writing gift to bring awareness to some of the problems young Natives face daily. One of the main characters in my current novel, Charlie, lives on the Yakama reservation, which is one of the least impoverished reservations in Washington, but he still faces many of the problems that less fortunate Natives do. His family is poor, he’s constantly surrounded by crime, and he struggles with an alcohol addiction, but he desperately wants this to change. My hope is that, once I get this book published, I will be able to use Charlie as a way to inspire indigenous youth to keep fighting for what they want, even if it seems impossible.

Everyone faces adversity in their life. Tell us about you and about a time that you faced adversity. How did you overcome adversity? How did this adversity shape you? What advice would you give to someone facing the same circumstances? (400-600) I have always had a passion for writing and a fascination with true crime. Part of my interest in crime came from the fact that for nine years, I was physically and verbally abused. Throughout that time, no adults listened when I tried to tell them. The thoughts swirling in my brain were, “Why?” Why was this happening? Why would somebody feel the need to hurt me? Why did no one believe me? To cope, I learned more about the criminal mind, and my questions translated to those cases. Knowing that other people might be experiencing the same things I was brought about a deep anger and sadness, and I wanted to help. Covid was a blessing. I did not have to face the girl that was bringing me pain anymore, and that’s when I realized that I needed to be an advocate in my community by talking about the violence I had endured. But every time I mentioned it to adults, I was dismissed with the phrase, “That’s not abuse; you’re being dramatic.” After finally telling a therapist, who also dismissed my troubles, I realized that you can’t make people hear what they don’t want to hear. But another revelation came with that. If word of mouth isn’t enough to raise awareness, then maybe writing is. Writing is healing. I can spill out my feelings without judgement, and I can create a jigsaw of solutions to see how they play out. At this time, I’ve written two novels; one centering around abuse, and the other on the negative effects of being strictly controlled and how it dehumanizing it can be. Both novels have earned negative responses from the adults around me, but I’m okay with that. I’m not writing to prove anything to the people that deny that other people have serious issues to deal with. I’m writing for people who know what it’s like to wake up afraid every day. For the people who cannot advocate for themselves. I know I cannot bring about the change in awareness and possible solutions on my own, but my voice matters. When I get my books published, I’ll be able to spread awareness, which will hopefully provide comfort, support, and encouragement to people who have been or are currently being mistreated. And maybe – just maybe – others will find their voices too. I have been shaped by my adverse experience because I am now more empathetic to others and their problems, no matter how small. I am a better listener, and I understand that people should be taken seriously when they reach out for help. I’ve been able to advocate for so many other people in my life in serious situations, and I believe that being shut down when I was desperate for help gave me the courage to speak up and keep talking. My advice to others who are going through abuse is to talk and never stop. Don’t stop, no matter how many times you’re turned away or mocked. Keep looking for a trusted adult who will listen and know that it might not be your parents. It might be your pediatrician, your teacher, or a coach. Writing can be helpful, and maybe you will find a support group to help you. Use your words, whether they're spoken or written, and never stop talking.

Two things have always been consistent with me: my fascination with true crime, and my love for writing. Part of my interest in crime came from the fact that, for nine years, I was physically and verbally abused. Throughout that time, all I could think was, “why?” Why would somebody feel the need to do this? Why did no one believe me? Why was this happening? When I learned more about famous criminals, those questions were translated over to their cases. Knowing that some people feel the need to hurt others so deeply brought about a lot of anger and sadness, and I wanted to help. For a while, I tried to advocate in my community about these problems by talking about the violence I endured. Every time I mentioned it, I was dismissed. My first therapist said, “That’s not abuse; you’re being dramatic.” That day, I realized that you can’t make people hear what they don’t want to hear. But another revelation came with that. If word of mouth isn’t enough to raise awareness, then maybe writing is. Since then, I’ve written two novels, one centering around abuse, and the other on dehumanization and control. Both have earned negative responses from the people around me, but I’m okay with that. I’m not writing to prove the people that deny these things wrong. I’m writing for people who know what it’s like to wake up afraid every day. For the people who can’t advocate for themselves. I know I can’t bring about the change in awareness alone. When I get these books published, I’ll be able to spread awareness through my readers and their communities, and whatever opportunities come with that. The money from this scholarship would help pay for the classes I need to get a degree in Creative and Professional Writing. I would use that degree to elevate my writing skills so I can continue to educate and raise awareness for frequently ignored problems. One cause I’m passionate about is the lack of resources available to Native Americans. While I’m one of the few indigenous people who have access to a higher education, less than 25% of us do. I plan to write more on modern indigenous struggles in the future to help get tribes the resources they deserve, and I would be honored to say that the Susan Jeanne Grant Heart Scholarship helped me along the way.

My journey to becoming an author has been a solitary one. The people who I thought stood behind me when I was younger have begun to express doubts, telling me that being an author is an unobtainable dream. At my very core, I’m a writer, and I know that one day, I’ll be a published author. I write about topics that most people consider uncomfortable, such as abusive relationships and hate crimes, because that’s a part of my story. I know that someone who reads my books will relate to the pain and know that their struggles were seen. For nine years, I was hit and berated by a family friend. Not once in those nine years did someone believe me. Even today, I’m shut down and dismissed when I try to talk about the abuse. And I understand. It’s an uncomfortable thing to hear about, but at the same time, it’s real; and no problem will be fixed through denial. I’m passionate about making my voice heard when so many other people cannot, and when word of mouth isn’t enough, writing is. Throughout high school, I have found time to write a full novel and start a second one while keeping a high GPA and working part-time. I have maintained a 4.0 GPA since the beginning of the school year, which I’m proud of. I do lots of planning for my current novel while swimming laps at the pool on the weekends. I competed on a team for ten years but switched to distance swimming after severely injuring my ankle. Switching my focus from sprinting to distance has also given me more of a chance to think through plot holes and character development. Next year, I plan to pursue my dream, despite having very little support behind it. I’ll major in Creative and Professional Writing and minor in Event Management and Hospitality. I love helping and taking care of others. Being in a field where I can fulfill that need but also use my writing degree is something that excites me. Winning this scholarship would help pay for the classes and materials I need to earn my degree in Creative and Professional Writing and alleviate some of the financial burden on my family. My twin is also going to college at the same time as me, which will cost my family twice as much money. I’m making a conscious effort to pick up more shifts and spend only on essentials, but every dollar counts. Having the extra support from the Kalia D. Davis Memorial Scholarship would mean so much to both my family and I as I work towards my lifelong goal of becoming an author. My sister and I are enrolled with the Monacan Indian Nation, our tribe, but we do not receive money for being enrolled because we’re not a per capita tribe. Less than a quarter of young indigenous adults were enrolled in a four-year university in 2024, and one of the main reasons for that is a lack of money and resources. I am lucky enough to be one of the few of us that have access to higher education, and I want to make it count. In the future, I hope to help federal tribes through donations, but also by writing down their stories. Storytelling is a large part of indigenous cultures. I know that using my skills to help shine light on our cultures will do amazing things for so many tribes, and I would be honored to say that the Kalia D. Davis Memorial Scholarship helped me along on my journey.

Everyone has been told, “You can’t…you’re not good enough …you’ll never be …” Being doubted is a part of life. The first time I experienced this was when the people in my life realized that I was serious about becoming author. When I was a kid, I loved telling stories. As a preschooler, I drew pictures and told my teachers what to write. After I learned to write, I flourished. I focused more on writing creative assignments rather than stories, but I still enjoyed the craft. However, in sixth grade, my life changed when I met a man who believed in an idea I had never considered. My bus driver announced he was retiring to take care of his sick wife. So, I wrote him a letter, sending him well wishes and thanking him for his work. I gave the letter to him on his last day. After school, he stopped me, took my hand, and thanked me profusely for the letter. He complimented me on how moving and well-written it was. He said, “I’ll buy your first book.” That simple sentence was the reason I turned my attention to writing novels. I’ll always be thankful to my bus driver for saying this, even though I never learned his name. For the next few years, people just smiled and nodded when I said I wanted to be an author. When it came time to apply to colleges and I revealed my major was going to be Creative Writing, the polite smiles disappeared. “You can’t do that,” said more people than I can count, including my parents. “You’ll never make a living writing stories.” I never outright challenged the doubters, although I wish I had. I should have proudly displayed my manuscripts and poems, saying, “Look at all that I’ve written so far. See what I can do?” I don’t talk about what I write much because the little I have shared has earned comments about how “dark” and “uncomfortable” my topics are. When I write, I become vulnerable, and being transgender is certainly a vulnerable thing. Hate crimes against LGBTQ+ people are a reality, but that’s just one harsh truth I write about. For some, the ‘troubled teen industry’ is a reality. Abusive relationships are a reality. I, myself, was abused for nine years, and to this day, I’m still dismissed and shut down when I try to talk about it. But I do write about it. I write about challenging things for people that cannot speak for themselves. I know there will be someone who reads my work and is comforted by the knowledge that their story isn’t an isolated event. That is the person I write for, not for the people who deny, dismiss, and ignore the struggles others face. It’s important to be seen, heard, and respected. I’ve always had a passion for writing, but that compassionate bus driver brought it out with a few words of encouragement and confidence. I mulled over the dedication for my book for a long time. Should I dedicate it to people without the words to tell their story? A supportive friend? I wasn’t sure. And then, I saw that that bus driver again. He didn’t remember me, but he was the reason I staked my heart on becoming an author. On the drive home, I decided to on the dedication. It reads, “This book is dedicated to a man whose name I never learned, but who believed in me. To my sixth-grade bus driver, who said he would buy my first book -- thank you for changing my life.”

In my freshman year, my mother suggested that I watch a movie called ‘The Crow.’ She told me that it follows a dead man who avenges his fiancée with a crow—or something like that. She hadn’t watched it since she was in college. I wasn’t very interested. It sounded like a poorly executed tragedy. After countless not-so-subtle hints, I conceded and sat down with her to watch it. I didn’t want to admit it to her, but I was hooked within the first ten minutes. As the movie progressed, I realized it was a tragedy, but it wasn’t poorly executed. It was masterfully and carefully crafted, built to garner both heartbreak and love. Every time I watched ‘The Crow,’ I found something new to love about; from the tender care that Eric Draven showed to Sarah to Angel David’s erratic character. For the longest time, ‘The Crow’ was a comfort movie to me. Then, on Easter of 2025, I found out that my grandmother was in hospice. I didn’t find out from my family, but from the nurse. I knew that she’d been having visits from nurses, but nobody told me they were hospice nurses. I couldn’t confront my family about their decision not to tell me. I had known that she had dementia—she’d had it for eleven years; I would have been a fool to not know—but I didn’t know that her time was ending. For once, I was furious, and I had no idea how to deal with it. I tried to turn to ‘The Crow,’ but I couldn’t finish it. The comfort I once found in it was gone. All that was left was pain. My grandmother passed that May, less than a month after meeting the nurse. I wanted desperately to turn to the arms of the movie that had once held me tight when I needed it, but I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to see the good in it anymore, and it would lose the place it had held in my heart for the past three years. When I realized I was alone in my anger and too swallowed by grief to seek comfort from my family, I finally put the disc into the DVD player, curled up with the stuffed bear my grandmother had once given me, and faced my fears. I made it through most of the movie without crying, but one scene got the best of me. When Eric encountered Sarah in a cemetery, she reminded him that he didn’t say goodbye before he died. He responded with, “you’re just going to have to forgive me for that.” Out of all the lines in that movie that felt a little different after my grandmother’s death, this one changed the most. I couldn’t remember the last time my grandmother had said goodbye to anyone. I remembered the last thing she said to me, but not her last goodbye, and it hurt me to know that I, too, was just going to have to forgive her for that. For my eighteenth birthday, I got a tattoo for ‘The Crow’ as a memorial to my grandmother. I have a replica of the crow from the front cover of the movie over my heart. Even if I fall out of love with the movie one day, I will never forget the comfort it gave me when I lost my grandmother. At the end of the movie, Sarah says, “buildings burn, and people die, but real love is forever.” The crow over my heart will always be a reminder of that.

Writing. Poetry, business plans, novels, short stories – I love all of it. Writing is my passion, and it’s what I want to do for a living. But I know that I am a young writer, and I desire instruction on how to be an excellent author, an effective editor, how to engage readers better, and how to submit my work to publishers. Academically, I’ll be graduating from high school, and I plan to attend college. I want to earn a BA in Creative and Professional Writing because this degree will enrich my writing and enable me to pursue my passion. Professionally, I want to write for a living. I hope to have my books published because the stories I create are relatable and can provide comfort as the characters go through challenging situations that other people might also be going through. Immersing myself in the research of a storyline and setting excites me, as it challenges me to learn something new. I’ve been writing for over ten years. However, some adults in my life haven’t been supportive. “Writing is a hobby, not a career,” and “pick something that will make you money,” are the phrases that I am told most frequently. I’ve been told that no one will read my books because my topics are too grim, and nobody wants to read about such heavy ideas. But there will always be someone less fortunate than others, somebody fresh out of a difficult situation, and my goal is to send the message that they aren’t alone. Despite this negativity, I continue to write because it just pours out of me. Over the years, I’ve found support on an online platform, where I have submitted nine novellas and received useful feedback on each chapter. However, I want more. I need a professor to guide me, and that’s where college comes in. I’ve been published in my high school’s literary magazine for three years in a row, and the rush I’ve felt from seeing my work in a magazine has been incredibly motivating. I cannot imagine a future where I am not writing. Whether it is business plans or novels, I need to write. I hope that by pursuing something that has been my dream since childhood, I will be able to extend a hand to people struggling after a hardship and provide them with the comfort and acknowledgement that they deserve.