It is difficult to say who was the most significant influence in my life when there are several people. That being said— Craig McCracken and Genndy Tartakovsky are the main ones that inspired me to pursue an art career. All I wanted to do was to pursue my passion for art, specifically illustration. As a kid, I was often left to my devices to to my single mother working to provide for me. So like many youths, I watched Cartoon Network and especially enjoyed McCracken's Powerpuff Girls and Tartakovsky's Samurai Jack. Art, specifically in animated cartoons, was integral to my life. One reason is that it was my primary source of enjoyment because I lived a very sheltered life and had very little interaction with my peers outside of school. I feel like this is quite normal for children of immigrants, but it doesn't make it any less lonely. Another reason was that it was very mesmerizing to watch. It was mesmerizing to see how many children's shows are different yet have the same goals: fun, witty, quality art, and exciting colors and stylizations. It is also incredible how much effort the animators put into each frame, and I could only imagine how long it took for just a fifteen-minute episode. As I got older, I realized that many artists and animators in popular media were White men, which I don't have any qualms about. I just wished more people looked like me in that field of practice. There was also a period when I rejected the Asian stereotype of pursuing a STEM path. I realized at a young age that if I did not conform, I would be a burden and a disgrace to my family. It was hard to cope during my childhood, but I knew I wanted change to happen. Much of my art consists of personal experiences dealing with mental health and loneliness, like a diary. Although I wouldn't feel too great on the inside, seeing the fruits of my labor brought about a sense of fulfillment and pride. Mental health is a critical asset to my work, regardless of whether the emotion is positive or negative because I want to convey that it is not wrong to be where we are as long as we put work and effort into the life we're trying to achieve. Although mental health awareness is more prevalent in today's time, there are still scars that have yet to heal for those who are considered the black sheep within the Asian community. That is why I think it is essential to bring to light that it is okay to be different. When I graduate, my aspiration is pretty simple as I only wish to add to the representation of Asian Americans in the art field. Before I enrolled in an art school, I mainly focused on digital art with the hopes of becoming a storyboard artist. Surprisingly, I learned that I also enjoyed printmaking during my time at the Pennsylvania of Fine Arts, so I'm glad I can add that to my repertoire.

Growing up, I didn't have many friends, so I would take to drawing in my leisure time to destress. Unfortunately, I did not get an art education until high school, and even so, it was only during my first and fourth years. Regardless, I was always in high spirits whenever I entered art class. My teacher Brian Kerner was also beneficial and patient, despite my peers not taking art seriously. Although the prompts he'd give us for homework would seem simple, as I began brainstorming, I found it more complicated than I thought. As a result, the idea of being stumped came off as shameful to me. However, my teacher was more than willing to help, gave advice, and offered different techniques to enhance the quality and composition of the artwork. I also appreciated how mindful he was of his students because there came a time when he knew I wasn't putting effort into one of the assignments I turned in. He explained that I could do much better with my potential, which was why I didn't get a total score. It was motivating because I rarely received positive reinforcement from an authority figure in my youth. When it came time for graduation, and I had to select a college, societal and familial pressure to pick something that would land me an "acceptable" high-paying job befell me, so I took on a Psychology major at a local university in hopes of becoming a therapist. I wasn't happy then. So, I thought that eventually, by becoming a therapist, I could encourage my clients and add more light to what I saw as a dark world. Two years later, balancing school, work, and mental health became too much for me, so I eventually dropped on during my sophomore year. Although I focused on working and saving money to pay off student loans, I fell into a deep depression where I didn't want to speak, eat, or partake in my usual activities. I would sit and stare blankly at the wall for hours of the day while the world moved on without me. Because what is the point of being alive if I was not living? Eventually, I had enough of living the way that I was. Two years after I dropped out, I enrolled in the Community College of Philadelphia with an art major, remembering what made me happy so long ago and what my art teacher said back then. Words are so powerful, and they can lead us in directions that we couldn't dream of. It was also a plus to remember that I would be the first in my family to complete college and add to the representation of second-generation Asian Americans in the art field as a nontraditional student. My art professors were so passionate about what they taught, and I appreciated how diverse my peers were, and despite that, we were able to come together and connect due to our affinity for art. That's what we're there for, right? I was challenged and humbled in areas I was not that great in. I've also created things I didn't think I would enjoy or even think of. For years, I've been working with graphite only. Little did I know I enjoyed charcoal so much! Eventually, I graduated with my associate with the highest honors. Afterward, I enrolled in the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and learned I'd enjoy printmaking! This upcoming semester will begin my final year at school, so I plan to utilize everything I learned, graduate, and begin my life as a professional artist.

In 2018, I came out as nonbinary to my family and peers. At the time, I didn't have a good relationship with any family members outside my mother and brother, so it was especially tough when a family gathering was held at our house. I didn't have a good relationship with them because they constantly verbally berated me every chance they got, and I had to cut them off for the sake of my mental wellbeing. When they arrived, I didn't want them to disrespect me in my own house. I also did not wish to hide who I am and want my authentic self to be seen regardless of their opinions. Although there were mixed reactions, my only known queer cousin came up and defended me. He and I did not have a close relationship, but I found in him a kindred spirit. The struggles he went through as an openly gay Asian American man were difficult for him, but he ended up successful and a respected member of his family. That is something I strive to be as well. Out of everyone in my family, he treated me like I belonged and only wished for the best. His actions were simple, but they meant a lot. It gave me hope for the future that Asian can thrive against all odds and especially within a highly conservative family. He went against the model minority mindset and chose to pursue a career and lifestyle that made him happy. As a result, he was one of the reasons why I decided to go to community college to get my A.A. Due to the model minority myth, Asians are stereotyped as thriving and excelling in STEM. Unfortunately, it's not considered my strongest suit. Instead, I flourished in the arts. Art was something I used to cope with depression and express myself in a healthy way. I got tired of my peers looking down on me for not fitting the model minority stereotype. Not only is it a harmful mindset, it completely erases the person's individuality. When I enrolled in the Community College of Philadelphia, I was happy to see many people of color, especially Asians, of different backgrounds majoring in art. It was through my fellow schoolmates that I felt seen and heard. From my first day there to my last, I was given so much hope that we can provide representation to today's children compared to the past. As I move forward to pursue my B.A. at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, I plan to make a name for myself in the Philadelphia art scene and engage in social justice activities. My goal is to add to the representation of Asian Americans in the arts to show that we are not a monolith and are more than the stereotypes that society projects onto us. I hope for a day where we are seen past our differences and that we are only people at the end of the day.

I didn't grow up with Asian American representation in my childhood. I would navigate life getting made fun of for my Chinese name and the food I brought to lunch. I would also get ostracized by my family for being "too American" because I could not intake information, unlike my cousins. I would also be labeled the black sheep of the family because I was queer and partook in the arts rather than STEM. Throughout the years, the criticism from my family grew harsher, and eventually, I grew to resent them and my culture. It never made sense to me, but it was considered a typical mindset in our culture. Of course, it's not fair for me to have that mindset. I was extremely sheltered, so the only faults and failures I saw were of mine. It was hurtful, and I eventually developed depression from it. Despite the hurt, I've educated myself in Asian studies and involved myself in activism for those who can't speak up. Throughout the years, I've learned about the model minority stereotype, and from then on, my childhood made sense. There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants to advance in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children for them to pursue high-income fields such as STEM. Asian culture is beautiful, and I don't want young Asian Americans to be scared out of it due to high expectations. I went back to school when I was 22 to learn the arts because I planned to make a name for myself to show young Asian Americans like me that they are more than the stereotypes projected onto them.

My therapist suggested listing three different things per day: sounds easy enough, right? It was smooth-sailing at first because it was a simple and realistic task. I can think of something like being thankful for the food my partner made for me or the shows I watch. However, it did get complicated along the way. It can be a real brain-scratcher, but it helps me look within myself and be aware of my surroundings simultaneously. I did not want to "cheat" and reuse the things I was grateful for because I would only have a limited number of reasons if I did. Finding reasons to be thankful can help with anxiety and depression from my experience. Although things can also be worse, I am grateful for the people and things I have in my life that help keeps me going. Although there are many factors to my gratitude, I will always be thankful for my mother for providing for me and being my first friend and my brother for being patient with my antics and taking me places I need to be. I am also grateful to my partner for supporting me and making sure I don't get into any trouble and friends for sticking by me through thick and thin. My cats are also another one of the main reasons for my gratitude. Cats are curious and intelligent creatures. They've often brightened my day because they know I wasn't feeling well, whether it be them pawing at me or headbutting me for attention. Although it helps to write down what I am grateful for, it benefits from sitting back and remembering the ones that have been with us no matter the circumstance. I am still living and breathing because of the people and things that anchor me.

I recently graduated from my community college with Highest Honors and am fortunate enough to be accepted into America's first art university Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, in their illustration major. I intend to utilize my skillset to make a name for myself as an Asian American artist. I did not grow up with Asian American representation, so I often found myself out of place in both familial and societal settings. I was too American for Asians and too Asian for Americans. It felt like whiplash for how much I had to balance, and I was often insecure about my identity and what category I fell into. I felt like a failure because I wasn't able to live up to the model minority stereotype and thus did not fully invest in higher education until I was 22. My short-term goal is to graduate from the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. It is a small student-to-professor ratio, so I intend to utilize my time there to learn from the best and get hands-on help. I also aspire to be involved with student life and activities to make myself known. My goal is to work as a local illustrator in Philadelphia and be featured as an artist in Asian Arts Initiative. Compared to the past, Asian representation has gotten better, but there is still a way to go. If I had seen representation from people of a similar background as me, I would not have gone through my life feeling as if I was alone in the world. If I can make a positive change in a child's life, working as a storyboard artist and an illustrator for books and graphic novels can show young Asian Americans that we are capable of so many things.

I was never the "normal" one in the family because I was an illegitimate child to a single mom in an immigrant Asian family. Ostracism and alienation often happen. When I spent time with cousins my age, I would overhear the parents telling them not to get "influenced" by me because I was "dirty and stupid." As a child, admittedly, I was on the slower side, whether it be because of naivety or I genuinely had something wrong with me developmentally. However, it did not make things hurt any less. Throughout the years, I grew more aware of what was said about me. Despite that, I still chose to be respectful. However, I was still a person with very little autonomy to by being and had my choices and future made by my family. I couldn't speak up for myself until I was 18 and expressed my disdain for continuing a relationship with the people who have hurt me. Due to those experiences, I could not find myself to be in a positive relationship with my Asianness because both family and peers expected me to live up to the model minority stereotype. My interest in art was another reason my family looked down on me. Because of the high expectations of Asian Americans being super-smart beings, we are not in reality. Because I did not choose to partake in STEM as a career, I get labeled as "not Asian enough." I recently graduated from my community college and am now pursuing a bachelor's at the art university I transferred to. With my role in the arts and partaking in activism for Asian Americans, I can show young Asian Americans like me that they are more than the stereotype society makes them out to be. We are human, not perfect.

There were many things that fueled my life. I grew up with untreated adjustment disorder as a preteen and undiagnosed depression and anxiety until I was 18. After high school, I tried to fulfill my societal obligation of going to college straight after graduating but was left with debt and wasted time. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life because it was such a drastic change, from having to raise my hand to use the restroom to not having to do that. To be pushed into the world and choose a career field after being sheltered was hard. I felt awful after I dropped out and fell into a deep depression. It wasn't easy to be vulnerable when I faced criticism over mundane things in my childhood. It wasn't until I got professional help and entrusted my best friend at the time with my vulnerability and deepest thoughts. It was thanks to my mother, who conveyed how much she loved me, and my friends who motivated me to enroll in an affordable community college to pursue art. My love language is words of affirmation, so although a compliment might be simple and plain, it would mean the world to me and encourage me to do better for myself. Since I was a child, I've always wanted to make a name for myself in the arts because I didn't grow up with Asian American representation. Because of that, I graduated from community college with the Highest Honors and got accepted into a private art university. So that is why my desire to show young Asian Americans they can be artists instead of being seen as the model minority stereotype fuels my motivation. I was discouraged from pursuing what made me happy, but look where I am now!

I grew up not being able to speak my mind because my older relatives felt entitled to say anything they wanted, regardless of hurting another person's feelings. In an immigrant family, they value tradition and will criticize anything they think is different. I was an illegitimate child; thus, their reasoning for badmouthing me was their reasoning. Next came my choosing art over STEM and then coming out as a queer person. It was difficult as a child because I had no say-so, purely because I was not an elder and therefore should not be respected. Because of my experiences, I developed depression, anxiety, and adjustment disorder. It was left untreated until I was admitted to a mental healthcare hospital. As I learned more about myself, I realized that I was not treated fairly. I am still human, always have been, always will be, and I deserve the basic of basic human decency. It was not until I graduated high school that I felt it was an appropriate time to state my piece before cutting the emotionally abusive and neglectful family members from my life. I never looked back, but sometimes I think of the "what-ifs." What if I made a mistake? What if I was out of line? However, I know that I did nothing wrong. I did not ask to be the target of someone's ridicule and ostracism, and I was not at fault for being hurt for it. I've stated my peace, and it is up to them if they feel remorse or want to improve on themselves. I have done my best to speak up when I see someone is being wrong because some people are not used to defending themselves. We never know what a person is going through, so we need to be mindful.

Being secure in a relationship or environment can be difficult. I always think about how as we navigate through life, we find ourselves facing paths and choices that we have to make. Some are at risk of being life-changing, whether good or bad. I feel that being in a support system, we need to encourage them to make the choice that they think is best as long as it doesn't hurt others. Since the pandemic, I realize that I have taken being around people and support systems for granted. Art was something I enjoyed doing and making a career of, but I missed being around other art students like me. It wasn't until my class had to do peer reviews for each other. I was nervous, but I was worried about what people might think: "Will my bluntness be taken as rudeness? Am I being too annoying or wishy-washy?" My head was spiraling with those thoughts of self-doubt until a classmate made a note for me saying that I could come to her if I needed help with writing or projects. Although it was a simple gesture, it meant a lot to me and fueled a fire of ambition within me. Since the school lockdown was lifted, I have made it a goal to encourage my peers that they can come to me if they need help or advice on an art project. During art critiques, I made sure to state what I like and don't like, give thorough reasons on why, and encourage them that I want to see more from them, which I find to strengthen bonds and trust. I learned that if we only criticize without an ounce of positivity, we can lower morale. My attitude is if we want something to happen, encouragement is needed.

I have a myriad of things on my bucket list, and I am a person of simple pleasures. One of those few things is to have a personal space for myself. I enjoy my privacy, so I would love to come home to a space where my partner and cats will welcome me home. As much as I would love to save money and spend time with my mother and brother, due to generational differences, we often butt heads. It is not anything malicious, but I do prefer to have a space where I can decompress without worrying about what others think of me. As I am readying myself to transfer this Fall semester, I have been working extra hours at work and writing as many essays as possible to reduce the cost of tuition. I am fortunate enough to be granted a large portion of merit scholarships; however, I still have many essays and workloads to get what I need. Another thing on my bucket list is to make a name for myself as an illustrator. I have recently graduated from Community College of Philadelphia with the Highest Honors in my field of study, which is art. I have also been accepted into the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, America's first art school and art museum. I feel that I can study under talented professors and mentors with my education there. With their help, I can further hone my skills to achieve my goal of adding to the representation of Asian Americans in the arts. I've never seen Asian Americans in media as a kid, and the roles were minor when I did. Nowadays, there is more representation than ever! I wish I could have seen this in the past, so I want to add to that representation.

Having confidence means being grounded in your personhood and being self-assured in yourself. A recurring thought is that the older we get, the fewer mistakes we need to make, but that is simply not true. Everyone learns at their own pace, and that is okay. What I found to help me be confident is to learn to be okay with "being." As humans, we make mistakes, but that does not mean we are incapable of learning. What makes me feel insecure is my fear of abandonment. I was the black sheep of the family because I was an illegitimate child, preferred the arts over STEM, and was a queer, nonbinary person. I grew up lonely, so I was paranoid about every single action and mistake I made. It was an unhealthy mindset, and it got to the point where I was very self-deprecating because my attitude was that if I beat them to the punch, I would be hurt less. In reality, it is an unhealthy coping mechanism, and it can push loved ones away. I learned that it was not okay to let my emotions run rampant and have them affect other people. It took many years of therapy, medication, and support from loved ones, but it gradually helped me accept who I am: a person who is doing their best. I let my depression and anxiety run rampant for years, and I held off on college until I was 22 in 2019. Now, I am a recent community college graduate with the Highest Honors in my major of study and got accepted into a historical and private art university. I've worked hard to get where I am, and no one can stop me from succeeding even further. No one can tell me I did not do enough.

My mother was diagnosed with trigeminal neuralgia in late 2021. I always saw her as this big and strong independent woman, which I was used to seeing. In the beginning, her doctor said surgery wasn't needed because there were risks involved, so she held it off and relied on medication instead. However, as time went on, mom developed flare-ups and sudden attacks. She grew smaller and weaker, and it scared me. It hurt to see her in that state, and I often did not want to look at her because I felt helpless. However, I know that running away would not do any good. I scheduled an appointment for neurosurgery and only did what I could: be there for her. It hurt seeing her, but I know she was scared, too. She felt helpless because she was aging and useless. Out of everyone else in our family, I can understand her plight. We were both mistreated in our past, and criticism will only worsen the emotional wounds. She always loved joking around. Although we cried together, I made sure to lighten the room so that she would feel less tense. She had experienced many painful events in Vietnam, but the physical pain must be a new experience for her since she was used to being the caretaker. Although we handle our struggles differently, I feel that it is best to make sure that she is getting the support she needs the way she needs it. There are times I want to scold her for overstraining herself when she should be resting, but it's unnecessary to do that. Instead, I gave her the compassion and empathy she needed. Yes, there are boundaries, but it is important to read the room and make sure the person you love is okay.

I find that the older we get, the more expectations of us to succeed, leaving no room for mistakes. It is much simpler for children: no financial responsibilities and more time on their hands. Those are things that are easily taken for granted. I am a recent community college graduate and currently awaiting my first day at an accredited university this Fall semester, and it can be mindboggling sometimes. I've had no issues managing me-time to relax and decompress because I only attended college part-time. I was also lucky enough to have my financial aid cover my education. However, many sacrifices will need to be made with transferring and attending full-time. It has been stressful because I also need to consider how big a step is to enroll in a university. It seems like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, and it can get unbearable sometimes. Although it seems like there is no time to rest, it is essential to make time, or else I will burn out. I've taken to organizing my planner and cleaning my room because it is so cathartic to see neat and orderly results. I've also taken to doing art in my spare time. I am an illustration major, but it can still get stressful because art can get obligatory. So, it helps to draw what I want in my spare time to decompress and recuperate after a long week of work. I've also been sprucing up my knowledge of folklore and history for leisure. Those two subjects have always been a staple in my childhood because I enjoyed doing research and gathering information for stories. It's unfortunate that I have less time as an adult to do leisurely activities, but I sure am more appreciative when I do find the time.

My favorite hobbies I enjoy are drawing and listening to music because I've always seen myself in the art industry. I don't think I am the best at articulating and conveying how I feel through words, so art is the best way to express myself. There is a wide array of methods and mediums to work with art, so it is essentially a free game. I also enjoy this hobby because I've been doing it since I was a child. Listening to music is another favorite hobby because I can find myself in a different place, like drawing. Music does not always need lyrics, but it can convey a story, whether intentional or not. It is also how I find inspiration in my art. In fact, some of my best art pieces were due to getting in the zone. It is also an excellent way to ensure my mind stays on the right track when working on projects or writing essays. Having complete silence can be draining, so it helps to have something in the background and relax I also enjoy organizing in my spare time because it helps clear my thoughts. As I work through internal struggles, it helps to use cleaning and organization as a placebo effect. It has cathartic effects, whether as straightforward as spiffing up my room or organizing a planner. The act sheds light on the idea that I am in control of what I do, and seeing the results can bring immense weight off my shoulders. As someone with depression and anxiety, a cluttered room can trigger an internal negative response. Such as the saying goes: a clean room is a clean mind.

My talents lay in the arts, specifically traditional art. I enjoy using charcoal because it is a messy medium. It is not as messy as paint, but I love the process of charcoal before it is complete. I find that it is also easy to use because it is so malleable. If I mess up, I can use the chamois to smudge it without the piece looking bad because I can always go back to refine it. Another medium I enjoy using is pencils and pens. I especially love it because I grew up drawing with pencils. I aspire to be an illustrator for graphic novels and a storyboard artist, so it makes sense to utilize those to create crisp, clean lines. On the other hand, pens are much more tedious because one mistake can cause me to scrap the entire piece and start the process over again. To hone my skills, I prefer to go to my art professors and peers to critique what I can do better on. Another method of practicing is through trial and error. I like to look at myself in the mirror to see if the anatomy is correct. I also have a wide array of art books on my shelf and video tutorials I can look up. Of course, I can't entirely agree with everything I see and hear because art is exceptionally subjective, and it honestly depends on the style the artist wants to go for. It helps to hear how other artists go about it for me to form my own opinion. It also helps to look up prompts to build inspiration on what to create. Personally, I don't feel that art has to look good. It depends on the narrative and how it can be interpreted.

It was strange growing up. Unlike many kids, I was a bit different. I did not know how to make friends. I had difficulty voicing my feelings and emotions, as well as understanding what was going inside my head. I could tell if someone was angry or happy, but I did not understand the complexity of the spectrum of emotions. Despite that, I went on about my day as if I did understand. I did not feel strange, but perhaps it was because I did not understand that feeling either. I do not know if this is a condition or a mental disorder. All I know is that I got diagnosed with adjustment disorder, depression, and anxiety throughout the years. Everything starts somewhere, and I suppose my mental health was not considered from the time of my conception. I was born to Vietnamese immigrants; however, my father left when he discovered my mother was pregnant with me. My family was not very helpful either. I often got neglected and jeered at because I was an illegitimate child. Despite some of them calling me fat, stupid, and telling me I won't get anywhere in life, I didn't understand. I smiled and nodded at the expense of my feelings. Everything was okay. Being a child of an immigrant single parent, friends, and social life was not an option. So, whoever I latch on to, I love them more than myself. Or at least what I believe to be love. That said--love is a powerful entity. It makes a person drop everything they are doing to ensure their loved one is safe and smiles and laughs at the end of the day. Even if the loved one throws you under the bus, you happily take it because that is the person you are supposed to love. It hurts when you finally reach out to them for help, and they turn away. It hurts when they make you out to be the villain for communicating how much you are hurting. It hurt to distance yourself from them despite still caring about them excessively. Love is powerful, but love also hurts. With adjustment disorder, the reaction to the stressor gets so severe that it interferes with social, occupational, and educational functioning. I was diagnosed with this as a preteen. Although even then, I did not understand why. I had a feeling I was different, but I thought it was only my personality. Consequently, I did not treat it, and it slowly festered. Combined with my depression and anxiety, the trio manifested itself in an abrupt turn of events. At one point, I resorted to self-harm and self-deprivation about my worth as a person and as a person of Asian descent. It might sound silly to someone more in tune with themselves, but being a second-generation Asian American has its hardships because I was raised on the idea that our worth is based on the model minority stereotype. As an Asian who is queer and interested in the arts instead of STEM and diagnosed with mental disorders, I was made to be the black sheep of the family. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. Furthermore, a question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. However, the model minority stereotype was too much for me to handle, so I leaned more toward the American culture. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not special, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard that was placed on us without our consent? At one point, I started to dislike myself for my flaws. Despite knowing how irrational my thought process was, it was difficult for me to look at the logic. It was difficult to function as a "normal" person because my anxiety got so overwhelming that I couldn't go without a day of an anxiety attack. I felt like I failed as a person and that my mother wasted her years on me. So, it took many years of medication and therapy to help me cope with that, even by a little. I've often desired to share a bond with someone but did not know how to go about it in a healthy way. Due to growing up without learning healthy coping mechanisms, my thought process is on the extreme ends of the spectrum, such as being too invested or too uncaring. It is very much so black and white thinking. Because of this, I struggled a lot with relationships. It wasn't until I met my current partner who did not enable my toxic mindset. They helped me understand that I am more than my mental disorders and can fight through them. We have been through many disagreements, heartache, and challenges due to my unstable emotions and mood swings because I had to unlearn many unhealthy habits. It was challenging to say the least, but I would not have done a lot for my self-care and self-accountability without their help. It was also thanks to my partner that I could communicate my feelings with my mother. She had been on my side the entire time, and I didn't think to acknowledge that because I was consumed in self-pity. Since I went back to college, I have been dead set on making a healthy life for myself as an illustrator because I realized that I was born to overcome challenges. It was thanks to the internal struggles and my support system that I was able to fight through it. With this scholarship, it will help in my endeavors to add representation for young Asian Americans who have also shared in these struggles. I am more than the model minority stereotype and mental disorders, and I will persevere.

I don't believe the meaning of life is objective. Everyone has their own set of ideals and values, so it would be unfair to those who live a particular way to an extent. I believe that life is something that we need to take day by day. We live in a world where people suffer while we sit comfortably with a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. It gets hard to fathom such a thing with that in mind, but it happens. I feel that in life, society is a dog-eat-dog world. As a society, we see people who reach out to their communities and seek professional help for mental health as welfare weak, lazy, getting handouts, and welfare queens. As a result, it causes a sense of guilt and shame in those who receive any help. Moreover, I believe the meaning of life is to do our best and be in good company. No one asked to be born, so we need to make the best of what we can. We can be as antisocial as we want, but humans are naturally social creatures. The quality of the bonds matters much more than the quantity. We do not need worldly pleasures to feel fulfilled. I believe we just need to have the faith that, as individual people, we can improve. Although, understandably, it is hard to believe since many choose to remain negative figures until their times of death. Although I can only speak for myself, I do not condone the hurt people inflict on innocent lives. The meaning of life should not have to be a controlling force. Underneath our skin and social status, we are all fleshy meat bags. Life is what we make of it, but it does not mean being careless.

I've lived a lonely childhood. As an illegitimate child to an immigrant, single mother in Asian culture, I was often neglected and verbally abused by family members. They considered me taboo and dubbed me a negative influence on their children when I was an introverted kid. I would never want anyone I cared about to feel how I felt. Selflessness is paramount to me because I rarely got it as a child. I never knew what it felt like to have someone other than my mother who cared about and accepted me for me until I was 19. So, of course, I jumped on the opportunity to shower them with affection and validation as much as possible. If they needed emotional or financial support, I'd provide that. The only conditional aspect I had was knowing that I did right by them. It was cathartic to see them go from a pained state to smiling and laughing. Although nowadays, I had to cross off being financially generous because I had to consider college expenses, save for an apartment, and care for my frail and retired mother while handling my increasing anxiety and depression. It was hard to go from extreme generosity to extreme frugalness. Still, I know that my community understands my situation because they have been in that situation. I can only be thankful for that fact. Recently, the only selfless act I could give was emotional support. I wish I could do more, but it is something to the best of my ability. We never know what someone is going through, so it is vital to reach out when we can. I like to make sure that they are okay, and even if they are not, I would be there to make sure they are not alone.

Before, I was very outgoing and exceptionally generous with my money. I've worked a minimum-wage job my whole life, yet whenever a friend or a friend of a friend was in a distressing place emotionally and financially, I would provide space for them and give them money for food. Of course, I didn't expect anything in return. I did not mind because I couldn't imagine the struggles they had to go through. I'm lucky enough to live with my mother while maintaining a good connection and having food in my belly and a roof over my head. So, I understand that I have it easy, so why not share whatever I had? Since the pandemic, unfortunately, I've not been able to give back to my community. Drastic changes needed to be made to juggle college expenses, save for an apartment, and care for my frail and retired mother while handling my increasing anxiety and depression. It was difficult and strange to go from extreme generosity to extreme frugalness. I cannot reach out as much as I would like to nowadays, and my friends understand. It sucked because my friends would be there for me when I needed them, so it felt selfish to focus on myself. I lived a lonely childhood because my family made me feel like an outcast for being an illegitimate child without a father. I was constantly verbally abused and neglected by them, even during times of high stress. The pain stuck with me, which was why I held so much value to my friends. I wasn't happy with my family because they did not choose me, but my friends were my chosen family who loved and accepted me for me. So, I would never want them to feel unwanted and uncared for. Consequently, as much as I enjoyed helping my friends, I realized that I neglected my familial responsibilities to my mother, who always cared about me. Last year, my mother was suffering from a condition called trigeminal neuralgia. She was bedridden and had been in constant pain for a whole year, and it took months to get an appointment for surgery. In the beginning, her pain flared up from time to time, but it was manageable, and her neurosurgeon didn't feel that my mother needed surgery. Over time, her medication stopped helping, and her pain skyrocketed back-to-back. I've had to take her to the emergency room several times per month because she could not bear the pain. It hurt to see a strong woman in such a delicate state, and it especially hurt to see her cry. I felt helpless, and the only thing I could do was hold her hand and be there for her. Thankfully, a doctor from another hospital recommended surgery, and it was only a two-week wait. Until then, I've made sure to stay home as much as possible to make sure she needed anything and reached out to family members who hurt me during my childhood to care for my mother while I was at work. It was nerve-wracking to go outside my comfort zone, but if it's for someone I love, I am willing to push past that. Thankfully, she had a successful surgery in March 2022. Although I lost a sense of familial community due to the trauma they caused me; I realized that my original community lay with my mother this entire time. We can only do what is in our power, so we need to take a step back and see who we can help in our community because we never know who we neglect.

I believe my addiction stemmed from childhood trauma. Since I was born, my existence was looked at as taboo by my family because being an illegitimate child to an immigrant mother would grant struggles to thrive in the new world. There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to advance in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it'd be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. Furthermore, I was often neglected and emotionally deprived. Family members would tell me that I was too fat, too stupid, and would never get anywhere in life. They said this to me when I was 3. Then, at age 9, a stranger sexually assaulted me. I repressed the memory until 16, when I finally disclosed this to my mother. However, this was never disclosed to any other family members because this would bring shame to the family. It was challenging to cope with it, so I developed a drinking and smoking addiction and held off on higher education until 22. Moreover, my struggle with addiction has been on and off. I didn't start abusing substances until I was 21 and was an avid drinker. Initially, I started as a social drinker, but as time went on, I enjoyed drinking to the point where I'd come home from work or school and drink to my heart's content. Slowly but surely, I became a chain smoker as well. I knew it was unhealthy, but I couldn't stop. I kept my addiction under wraps because I knew of the repercussions that followed. When I got admitted into a mental health facility called the Fairmount of Behavioral Health System for my suicidal thoughts, I saw the conditions of how the patients were treated. The psychiatrist there also did not want to be there. When I asked when I could leave, she told me, "If you don't want to be here, you wouldn't have tried to kill yourself," and made a noose gesture. I never once told her I tried to commit suicide and was open with my situation that I admitted myself there because I needed to be in a safe environment to get professional help. After that, I never wanted to be in that type of environment again. It feels terrible that the medical and behavioral health system can be corrupt because it inhibits me from receiving the help I need. However, thankfully I was able to help myself get out of that funk. It took a lot of therapy after coming back from the hospital, but it made me realize that many things I experienced as a child were beyond my control. I am mostly rehabilitated and drink and smoke much less. My love for the arts helped me recover because it was a cathartic way to express myself adequately. Reaching out to my support system also helped push me to go back to school. I recently received my A.A. at my community college and plan to receive my B.A. at the next school I enroll in. With my education, I plan on making a name for myself as an illustrator to add representation to young Asian Americans who have been in my shoes.

As a queer Asian American, I was often alienated from my family and non-Asian and non-queer peers. So, I'd find solace strictly in my queer community. Although the Asian representation in the queer community I was in was scarce, I was able to learn about intersectionality in the social justice movement and how it affects people like me. I appreciated how honest and open people were about their plight. It helped me realize how many people are suffering from the injustices they face and the financial struggles of living independently. Thanks to the social justice movement, we have many articles and sources on how to educate us and how we can help each other as a community. In a society where it's a dog-eat-dog world, we often forget that people are willing to help us. We live in a society where it is looked down upon to reach out for help, or it would be looked at as laziness and getting handouts. People are genuinely suffering, and they can't climb the social ladder because of the lack of funds and resources to pursue higher education. Although people can educate themselves through online resources, finding a decent living wage without a college education isn't easy. Another reason why I appreciate the social justice movement is because it opened my mind to many different cultures. Of course, there will be trial and error because of our ignorance, but keeping an open mind and listening to why particular actions are inappropriate helps strengthen bonds and be more appreciative of our differences. I learned America is not a melting pot and is more of a salad bowl. As children, we were conditioned to believe that everything is fine and dandy, but in reality, there are still so many things we need to fix as a society. We're all different and still segregated, both in class and race. I also appreciated knowing that many people shared my experience of being a child of an immigrant family. Because of our shared experiences, it was easy to find community and connect with them. It also helped to see people who have been in my shoes but live better lives because it shows that I can get out of my current situation. It helped me understand that we are more than what society tells us. For me, my issue lies in the model minority stereotype. Being an illegitimate child is difficult enough as an Asian because it is taboo in my culture. My family ostracized me for most of my childhood up to the point where I disconnected myself from my Asianness. I questioned my place in my family and as an Asian. Many traits about me screamed American and not Asian, such as choosing art instead of STEM, not getting good grades, having depression and anxiety, and being queer. Although now I know their idealization and expectations are based on the model minority stereotype, it does not hurt any less with how they treated me. It took a long time for me to heal and unlearn that resentment of my Asianness because I realized that the model minority stereotype is a byproduct of how our peers view us. After healing enough, I realized that I wanted to represent young Asian Americans who had similar experiences as I have. By taking part in community, intersectionality helps to challenge the morals and biases of people and gives the willingness to fight back when it matters. They are not defective for having different interests in goals and sexual and gender preferences. They are more than what people say they are.

I find that being in the LGBTQ+ can be challenging to navigate. I grew up in a traditional Asian household. My family did not speak English well, and carrying the burden as their translator limited many things for me as a kid. I never knew how to make friends and missed out on a lot of school activities and events solely because my family did not know how to go about that, and I had no choice but to follow. I never really cared for my sexuality because it was a part of me, so I did not feel the need to make a big deal out of it. I was often fond of women because the men I had in my life were not good role models. In fact, the leading person who discriminated against and ridiculed me was my uncle. In Asian culture, it is the norm to discriminate against and compare their children to feel better about themselves. The pride and face of the family fall on the next generation. There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to advance in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. My vision is to add to the representation of Asian Americans in the arts. Based on my upbringing, art was something that was looked down upon in my culture. Especially as children of immigrants, there is high pressure to succeed in STEM because it is a practical means to make a good and stable income. In the beginning, my family ostracized me for being an illegitimate child. However, when my queerness came into the light of day, no matter how innocent it was, any passerby in the family would add it to their reasons to alienate me even further. I just wanted to feel loved by my family, but I knew that it was too far of a reach. Eventually, I began to feel disconnected from them. I questioned my place in my family and as an Asian. Many traits about me screamed American and not Asian, such as choosing art instead of STEM, not getting good grades, having depression and anxiety, and being queer. Although now I know their idealization and expectations are based on the model minority stereotype, it does not hurt any less with how they treated me. It wasn't until I was 21 that I found my niche in the queer community. It was pleasant initially because it felt like my friends chose me to be a part of a family, even if we weren't related. It was intimidating because I lived a sheltered life, so making friends was hard for me. However, they welcomed me with open arms, and from then on, I became more open to sharing things about myself and feeling safe with them. The years of childhood activities I missed were finally experienced as an adult, and I will forever be thankful that my community was not judgemental of it. It took a long time for me to heal and unlearn that resentment of my Asianness because I realized that the model minority stereotype is a byproduct of how our peers view us. After healing enough, I realized that I wanted to represent young Asian Americans who had similar experiences as I have. They are not defective for having different interests in goals and sexual and gender preferences. They are more than what people say they are.

Although this might be a tongue-in-cheek statement, I've learned that I am a toxic person or have toxic tendencies. I found this valuable because I wouldn't think to improve anything about myself without knowing that I am capable of such a negative thing. I am thankful to my loved ones for entrusting this information with me and still staying by me despite that. Although I am an avid supporter of mental health and therapy, I haven't sought professional help due to personal reasons since the pandemic, so eventually, my mental health worsened. I realized that I am very stubborn; it always took until it was too late when I understood how toxic of a person I can be. It was not something to be proud of at all. High levels of stress can bring out the worst in us, but that is not something I want to be remembered for. Since the pandemic, my first therapy session will be on May 17, 2022. I feel like I changed too much for my liking, both for better and worse. It is a nerve-wracking feeling to go back. It gets to the point where it's hard to function like a regular person, but I understand that getting professional help is needed to set my life right. Another thing I've learned about myself that I found valuable is I persevere in the most difficult of situations. I am capable of growing as a person, and I am especially willing to for the people I love. My love for them exceeds that of my own; however, it is an unhealthy mindset to keep because it can be a detriment to me and my growth. If I can say anything positive about myself, it's that I keep striving to be a positive force.

Anyone can say what they don't want their legacy to be. We're all the heroes of our story, so it's doubtful that anyone actively wishes to be a villain, but sometimes, it is what it is. What I want my legacy to be, or at least I'm hoping, is that I am a person who did their best and never stopped trying to improve. I've been a flawed being since the time of my conception. Being an illegitimate child to an immigrant single parent brought on hardships. It was challenging to navigate life when my own family shunned and ridiculed me. Consequently, I never had a positive role model other than my mother. Usually, my mother would work long hours, so I spent a lot of time alone. Such neglect and loneliness led me to develop adjustment disorder, depression, and anxiety, which also came with severe mood swings. I had to learn things independently through trial and error because I felt like there was no one to guide me properly, and trust me-- I've made plenty of mistakes that I wasn't proud of. There have been plenty of times when I let my emotions get the best of me, and I lash out even at my loved ones. I wouldn't feel guilt until it was too late. It hurts to realize that I can be toxic to the people I love, and I constantly strive to work on myself to be a better person so that I won't hurt the people I care about again. It is a long and arduous path that I don't know if I will ever meet that goal. What I think matters is that I don't stop trying. While I can't undo the hurt I've caused, I am thankful for those who stuck by.

There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to advance in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. Throughout time, I experienced racism and microaggressions regarding my intelligence as an Asian by peers and even my family. I remember being ostracized and ridiculed for my queerness and lack of interest in STEM studies. A prime example is my uncle verbally abusing me by calling me fat and stupid every chance he got compared to his daughter. I mean—who tells a three-year-old that they won't be anything in life? The constant judgment and verbal abuse eventually led me to develop adjustment disorder, depression, and anxiety. Consequently, it got up to the point after high school, I admitted myself to a mental health hospital. After high school, I decided to take a break before college and focused on my job instead. However, life became bleak, and I ended up dissociating a lot and not enjoying what I used to enjoy. With the support of my friends, it took until I was 22 to enroll in a local community college to pursue something that has brought me happiness: art. There, I was surrounded by many artists of color, and it helped to see representation from those who pursued art. It motivated me to excel in my performance and appreciate the fruits of labor.

If I could share one sentence with the world, it's "stop and listen." I've learned that the more I want something and it doesn't happen, the more I get hurt. I've dealt with injustice when it came to nobody supporting me when family members bullied me or when I got sexually assaulted as a child. Not being able to say my piece affected me mentally, and it gets difficult to navigate through life as an adult because people expect more things from me. So, it gets tiring to make room for others but not have that reciprocated. I often confided in people who supposedly cared about me, and they would not want to listen or deviate the topic back to themselves. Although I would do my best to reassure them that I still love them, that I am just hurt and want to be heard, they would leave. For a while, I was okay with that because I was used to it. However, it gets overwhelming, botting up repressed emotions, and eventually, all those emotions pour out like a storm. It took until I was in college that I found people who cared enough to listen to my plight and welcome me into their lives with open arms. It is a very warm feeling that I will never forget. Not only did it boost my confidence, but it also boosted my drive to do better. People often do not understand why a person feels inadequate or what they are going through. Although no one is obligated to reach out and listen to anyone, it can brighten a person's day to be seen and heard. We never know what a person is going through, so giving space for them to speak can make a difference in their lives for the better.

We often see people post about their vacations, travels, and fine dining on social media. Sometimes, I can't help but be envious. With me working a minimum wage job to support myself through college, money is tight. However, that does not mean that I cannot have a good time. What makes me happy is the simple things. As humans, we make do. One thing that makes me happy is making a schedule to plan out my week. My most recent schedule was to get through the semester, work on essays, and email some people. The task could be child's play, and I would still have that included. It also fills me with accomplishment whenever I check "done." I tend to be hard on myself, so being able to look back on the things I completed is such a great feeling. Even if I didn't follow through with my plans, it was still cathartic that I got to sit down and take control of my life. Another thing that makes me happy is spending time with my loved ones. Growing up lonely helped me to value the people I care about so that they know they are loved. With anxiety and depression, it helps to be around people who make me feel safe and secure. Although money is scarce, my favorite pastime is going out on walks and confiding in each other with our sentiments. That or we don't even have to talk or do anything special. It's the fact that they took time out of their day to spend time with me. Although good times can be hard to come by, I am thankful for the little things. I don't need lavish riches or worldly pleasures. Most of all, I don't need to live by what society deems as happiness.

My favorite way to help others is by giving them company. Although I believe that love and support should be unconditional, I feel that it is also healthy for the person giving the help to gain something from it. I had a very lonely childhood, and it gravitated to my adult years. All I wanted was company to spend time with and talk to in my time of need. Knowing that I wasn't alone is good enough, so I want to provide that to others. Moreover, when a friend needs me to be there with them, I also benefit from it because I love being in their presence. Choosing me to confide in is a tremendous honor and knowing that I could help them overcome their problem fills me with great joy. It also eases my mind that I am making sure they are safe. If they are happy, then I am happy, too. As an adult, I find it only gets more difficult to partake in vulnerability because there is much to be expected from me. As an adult, I fear that I am useless to seek help from other people or even professionals. However, being reminded that I am not abnormal in seeking support is helpful and even beneficial for my mental health. It is also a means to deepen one's bond and establish trust. My goal in spending time with them is to make them laugh in the end. In the beginning, I do the usual schtick: listening to them, offering my opinion, making sure to comfort them, and lastly, making sure they sleep soundly at night by knowing that they are going to be okay. If I can continue to be a light to someone who does not have one, I would.

A woman who has been highly influential in making me the person I am today is my mother. She grew up in a poor neighborhood in Saigon, Vietnam, so she did not want me to experience what she experienced. As an immigrant, her family mistreated her, which carried on when they came to America. Despite that, she persevered because she wanted to make sure I had a roof to sleep under and food in my belly. It was tough because she was a single parent, and no one wanted to help her. In Asian culture, it is taboo to have an illegitimate child, but abortion was not an option because she was a devout Buddhist. Although I am sure I caused her much strain and struggle, she still chooses to love me and wish for my happiness. From my mother, I learned to love people even with their flaws. Although it can get toxic because I would love the wrong people, I believe that my goal is to unlearn that generational trauma and unhealthy attachments to live a healthy life that she would've wanted me to live.

As an Asian American, I was exposed to microaggressions from Asian and non-Asian peers regarding the model minority stereotype. It caused me to develop anxiety about my role as an Asian and if I am worthy of being my race. However, I believe that if we were not so judgmental of someone's position and beliefs, we would not have to face that discrimination. In the end, we are all just people with our own set of ideals and opinions. We can support diversity and equality by listening to and understanding marginalized groups' struggles and experiences while giving them a safe space and platform to have open discussions about it. However, I recognize that this might be difficult, especially if people are only exposed to their own culture and not anyone else's. We live with small minds to protect us and cultivate community with our own people most of the time. However, this can be detrimental to our growth and how we teach our children to treat others who are different from us. So, when we encounter someone different from us, there might be a sense of fear because it disrupts our view of how we see people, but we need to push past that fear and recognize that even though we all live differently, we are still people at the end of the day. To understand that is by also understanding that any group is not a monolith. Although people who grew up in a small community, meeting new people can be a culture shock, which does not mean it is wrong. It is crucial to overstep our comfort zone and be more exposed to people different from us to be used to understanding and appreciating their cultures. To understand equality is to unlearn our personal biases and prejudice.

Wayne Thiebaud's Cake Rows is one of my pieces of art because it embodies the nostalgia and prosperity of American culture. I enjoy his works, especially his cake paintings, because they remind me of when I would go to a bakery with my mother. While many artists have every right to be sardonic and cynical in their art, I believe it is also essential to think of the good things that happened back when things were simple. Things were much easier as a child, and I believe we take our childhood for granted. As I grow older, I stray farther away from my innocence and naivety, hardened to take what life throws at me. The meaning behind it is as beautiful as it is. At the same time, I enjoy Thiebaud's use of colors because it is both dull and saturated. Colors are symbolic in their own way, too—the colors are bright and in your face. One can't help but think about reaching into the painting and grabbing a slice. The colors also give a sense of sadness about how we see things now compared to what we saw as children. It inspired me to experiment with colors to portray a hidden meaning. Although his paintings about cakes seem innocent, the way he positions each cake in a tidy order most likely is the work of an adult. As children, we also take things adults do for us for granted. As children, we don't think to appreciate what adults do to present it in such a pleasing manner. This piece gives the duality of children and adults and how we view things through a different kind of lens throughout time.

My experience with mental health influenced many factors in my life. My family is your typical, traditional immigrants. They came from a poor area in Saigon, Vietnam. They had to struggle to get by, so they would start work as children. When they came to the U.S., they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. With that in mind, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children like many children of immigrants. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. Throughout time, I experienced racism and microaggressions regarding my intelligence as an Asian by peers and even my family. I remember being ostracized and ridiculed for my queerness and lack of interest in STEM studies. A prime example is my uncle verbally abusing me by calling me fat and stupid every chance he got compared to his daughter. I mean—who tells a three-year-old that they won't be anything in life? The constant judgment and verbal abuse eventually led me to develop adjustment disorder, depression, and anxiety. Consequently, it got up to the point after high school, I admitted myself to a mental health hospital. Sometimes even the most well-kept person can be suffering inside, and we wouldn't even know. It was then that I understood how crucial mental health was to maintain. It helped me develop compassion and empathy for those who struggle with the layout of their minds. Simultaneously, it has also helped me understand that while I can sympathize with those who struggle with their mental health, it does not justify any toxic or abusive behavior. Mental illness comes with reflecting in opposite ways. The negatives make it challenging to function and cause many difficulties, even acting like a person. I can be too trusting and too untrusting, cocky and filled with self-doubt, able to make friends but challenging to cultivate bonds, love hard and hate intensely, or too rigid or too lax at the same time. It gets hard to manage, and sometimes it leads to pushing the right people away. I am prone to hurt more than the average person, and the constant loop of anxiety looms over me. There is that fear of being a perfectionist but never making the cut even if I am doing good in reality. In contrast, although it is excellent to reach out to support systems and get professional help, in the end, it is ultimately up to me to push in my endeavors to heal. Through trial and error, I have come to understand myself a bit more while creating many questions to form. I know better what is appropriate and what is not. While the positives are rich and few, the negatives are sporadic and many. The positives include learning when to seek help and reaching out to support to get out of an unhealthy mindset. It also means persevering in skill and career to live life to the fullest and survive in the best way possible. My path of healing still has a long way to go, so it might not be very comforting to see where it will go. However, recovery is not linear and can look like anything. Like many people, I fight my anxiety and depression to function like a regular person. As long as I persevere, I will do good.

To me, community means a group of people of similar interests and backgrounds. Such as, my community lies in my Asianness. However, like any group, Asians are not a monolith. We are still only people capable of having different opinions and interests, which means we can butt heads. Simultaneously, a community can also be either a found family or a space where you can openly express yourself without the fear of judgment. My issue with the broad Asian umbrella is how some cultures are underrepresented. Because of the model minority stereotype, anyone who deviates from that is not seen as Asian based on my experiences. For example, a common stereotype lies in pursuing STEM fields. I genuinely respect those who pursue STEM. Simultaneously, it brings much pressure to those who do not fit that mold, and they can be susceptible to ridicule and ostracism from those in their race. I grew up the black sheep and could often not speak my piece, so it is only reasonable that I would not want my peers and community to experience the same. I wish to help Asian Americans, who shared my struggle, heal and that they are more than what people say they are. They are not defective. Although I am helping them heal passively through continuing my education and making a name for myself as an artist, I hope that the art they see from me can give them hope that it is okay to be different. ----- My vision is to add to the representation of Asian Americans in the arts. Based on my upbringing, art was something that was looked down upon in my culture. Especially as children of immigrants, there is high pressure to succeed in STEM because it is a practical means to make a good and stable income. There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to advance in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. During the darkest times, art became my solace to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. It took a long time for me to heal and unlearn that resentment because I realized that the model minority stereotype is a byproduct of how our peers view us. After healing enough, I realized that I wanted to represent young Asian Americans who had similar experiences as I have. They are not defective for having different interests in goals and sexual and gender preferences. They are more than what people say they are.

Life prepared me for success because going through trial and error drove me to better myself. Nobody is perfect, and I am no exception. I grew up a very flawed being. Labeled the black sheep of the family, my uncle told me that I would never be anything in life. The idea was instilled in me when I was a toddler. Anyone can say that it is an unfair presumption to remark at a child and that he shouldn't say that; however, just because something should be doesn't mean it is. As a child, I've always thought being a doctor and starting a family caused a means of success. My family was poor, so they preferred that I go into STEM. However, the more negative attention I received from my family for excelling in the arts and not in STEM fields, the deeper I sank into a pit of despair. I never cared to earn the respect of my family because of their constant verbal abuse, but I knew to the extent that it was something to strive for. In Asian culture, criticizing someone is to push them to success; however, that method did not work for me and only made me feel inadequate about myself as an Asian and as a person overall. Given my struggle with depression, my definition of success is to be content and at peace with where I am emotionally and financially. I don't need to live in a mansion or have kids to feel fulfilled. Although it is a pleasant idea, it is not necessary for my happiness. I need to accept what I am capable of and the person I am. I am not a perfect person, but I know I do my best. What success means to me is that I am happy with myself. I've tried to fill the hole within myself with worldly possessions and by making as many friends as possible; however, the joy it brought me was temporary. At the time, I was happy, and I thought that I was finally at a place in life where I had made it. Compared to my family's treatment, I had friends who treated me the way I wanted to be treated. They showed me love, which made me content with myself. When the pandemic occurred, things changed. We had to limit our outdoor adventures and our time together. At first, it was bearable, but over time, I felt lonely. Because of that experience, I realized that I've been relying on people and worldly possessions to prove my worth. It granted me temporary happiness, but it was unhealthy. Furthermore, although it was a harsh slap to reality, it was needed for my growth as a person. So, I would never undo that. Ignorance is bliss, but I know being the person I was would prevent me from flourishing into the person I want to be. Where I see myself twenty years from now is still ambivalent. Although I am on the path to healing and a healthier lifestyle, there is still a long way to go as I receive my A.A. in Spring 2022 and pursue my B.A. In twenty years, I would like to see myself in a place where I am content with myself and can take whatever life throws at me. Even though the future fills me with great uncertainty, and I do not know what will happen and what factors will lead me astray, I can say that I will always continue to push past any difficulty and continue to be the best person I can be.

When my mother and her family emigrated from Vietnam, she met my father, who left her when he found out she was carrying his child. I have faint memories of my father in my childhood. They were brief, so it wasn't enough for me to form an emotional bond with him. He had always wanted a daughter, but he never liked taking care of them. With all the work falling on my mother, she rarely had time to teach me how to navigate through life properly. I've never had a good male role model, so I had to learn many things through trial and error without any proper guidance. It heavily impacted my social life and stunted my emotional growth up to this day. Eventually, when I was 18, he reached out because he wanted to reconnect. I was hesitant to reconnect with him again because I was bitter about how he left my mother to take care of me emotionally and financially all by herself. In the beginning, I was hesitant, but seeing my mom feel like she had a companion again made it worth it to at least try. Yet, things changed. We discovered his feelings about us being a nuisance during our visit to him. My mother and I never contacted him again. I did not feel any remorse when we found out he had died a few years later. However, it did shape my view of the world as a sad place. He had hurt my mother and me under the pretense of him caring. However, this made me think about how short life is and how much time gets wasted on hurting our loved ones and never improving on ourselves. It made me realize how much I appreciated my mother because, although she was not perfect, she was still there and did everything to ensure I lived with a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Life is short with all the negativity and suffering we go through, so we need to focus on the people who matter in our lives.

I listen by making sure people feel heard and holding people accountable if they were to go back on their word for consistency's sake. At home, I never really felt like what I said mattered because my words would go in one ear and out the other. Eventually, this led to me spewing nonsense from time to time because I wouldn't believe that people take what I said seriously. Because I wasn't listened to, I didn't feel judged. So, why would I feel judged when no one is paying attention in the first place? It's like speaking to a wall sometimes. Despite not feeling heard by my family, I focused on building relationships with my partner and friends instead. I didn't want them to feel the same way I did, so I would make sure I gave them the time of day to listen to their pleasures and woes. I didn't mind not feeling heard, and at one point, I made it a goal to only listen to them and not have my needs met. On the other hand, listening to myself counts, too. In the past, I wouldn't keep in mind the things I say sometimes, and it would hurt the people I care about. Until I was in college, I met the right people to inform me that what I say does matter and can impact people, whether positive or negative. I learned that my words carry weight and need to be mindful of what I say. To me, listening means making sure people I care about feel heard. It also means holding me and other people accountable. Regardless of how high of a pedestal I put my loved ones on, it does not excuse the toxic things they say, and the same goes for me.

Before I enrolled in community college in 2019, I worked full-time at a fast-food restaurant. The hours I had between each shift were a lot, so I would often gallivant around the city and make new friends. I was also a part of the Philadelphia queer community on Facebook, so I've established many friendships in that group. Within the queer community, there would be many GoFundMe's from people who are struggling to pay rent or trying to find a new place to stay after being kicked out from their homophobic or transphobic family. I used to collect Transformer figurines which were not cheap, but I decided to put that to the side to give back to the community. I wasn't rich, but I was living comfortably, so it was only reasonable that I give back to the community that welcomed me. I often won't know these people, but it always feels good to contribute to someone's well-being. Although I didn't mind donating, I'm thankful to my friends who merely desired my company and wanted to talk. So, I can only hope that if I were ever in a bad situation, I could come across people who can help me. Nowadays, I'm knee-deep in debt because of the past spending habits that I barely give back to myself. Sometimes I regret I can't help a close friend or someone going through hardships. At the same time, one can only hope that there are people other than me who care and are willing to give aid. Currently, I am focusing on spending every waking moment of my day writing scholarship essays to lessen my tuition and saving up to uproot my partner from a toxic and abusive household. It gets difficult; simultaneously, we can only do what we can do.

I hold dear some simple pleasures when people give me the time of day. We never know when a person is going through something, so giving them space or the time of day can mean a lot. It means giving someone time, attention, compassion, presence, and wisdom. As someone who grew up eating healthy and having toys to play with, I was emotionally starved despite that. I grew up ostracized by my family because I was an illegitimate child. As a result, my mother sheltered me from everything and everyone around me for my safety. I never knew what it was like to be given something unconditionally until I was in middle school. My first childhood friend was the only one who stood by me when my classmates isolated me for not living up to the standards of the environment because it was a predominantly white Catholic school. My friend would keep my company every recess and listen to my rambles and nonsense. Since she was one of the few people of color in school, I hoped she felt the same way as me and that my company mattered to her. Another simple pleasure is being able to relax and be on my phone. It's as simple as it gets. Being on my phone takes the least amount of energy, so, understandably, it's my go-to. With technology, I can scroll through funny content on Tumblr or TikTok to brighten my day. It also means I can share content my friends enjoy so that it would brighten their day in the process. Although I am a hardworking person, I enjoy being lazy. I often took things for granted as a child. So, as an adult, I barely have the time of day to relax, so when I do, I relish it.

Generosity is essential to me because it establishes a bond in a community. Giving does not need to be materialistic; it can be simple things like giving your time to someone. We never know when a person is going through something, so giving them space or the time of day can mean a lot. It means giving someone time, attention, compassion, presence, and wisdom. As someone who grew up eating healthy and having toys to play with, I was emotionally starved despite that. I grew up ostracized by my family because I was an illegitimate child. As a result, my mother sheltered me from everything and everyone around me for my safety. I never knew what it was like to be given something unconditionally until I was in middle school. My first childhood friend was the only one who stood by me when my classmates isolated me for not living up to the standards of the environment because it was a predominantly white Catholic school. My friend would keep my company every recess and listen to my rambles and nonsense. As one of the few people of color in school, maybe I was giving back by relishing in her presence. My friend and I lost touch, but I have held her and her actions dearly in my heart since then. Today, I give back by giving people my time of day. Seeing people's eyes light up when talking about their day, interests or when I cook or draw for them brought me so much joy. It felt like I was doing something positive. Of course, I would need to read body language to know whether my company is wanted or not. We never know when a person is going through something, but respect and a friend might be enough.

I am passionate about my role in the arts as an Asian American. Because I was born to an immigrant, single mother, my existence was taboo. I have faced ridicule, jeering, and ostracism from my own family throughout my childhood, which eventually led me to develop anxiety and depression. It also did not help that I did not excel in STEM fields which many Asians deem worthy of respect. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. Art became my solace to escape during the darkest times: free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. Although verbal abuse is unnecessary, there is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter happened. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not noteworthy, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard assigned to us without our consent?

As a second-generation Asian American born to an immigrant single mother, no matter how many sacrifices she has made, that did not stop the ostracism from her own family. As the bastard child, immense pressure fell on me to save face for my family. The constant judgment and verbal abuse from being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies eventually led to depression and anxiety. My main goal is to add to the representation of Asian Americans in the arts, which can segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. I never understood why we must adhere to a stereotype and standard without our consent. Thankfully, I was able to find comfort in the arts. Art became my solace to escape during the darkest times: free to express myself without judgment. We are more than the box society puts us in. Asian Americans should not have to pick and choose between two cultures. I yearn for a future for Asians, or not, to understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be put on a pedestal, and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard. As I work hard toward a career in illustration, I aspire for young Asian Americans to see that we are capable of many more things.

I plan on achieving my goal by completing my A.A. this Fall 2022 and pursuing my B.A. as a first-generation collegegoer. As a result, I will not only reach a milestone, but I will also add to the diversity in Asian American culture. There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. I plan on making my mark in the world by bringing representation to Asian Americans in the arts. With this in mind, I will also be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. We are more than the box society puts us in. With my role in the arts, I aspire to bring representation to young Asian Americans who have been through the struggle of not feeling enough while growing up. Asian Americans should not have to pick and choose between two cultures. I yearn for a future for Asians, or not, to understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be put on a pedestal, and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard. Like everything else, it is a slow process. Little by little, one step at a time is all that is needed.

The best way to live a long, healthy life, in my opinion, is to not only take care of your physical health but your mental health as well. However, that is much easier said than done. Many scientific studies have proven that financial class and living location can also dictate how a person can live healthily. Taking care of your physical health should be a no-brainer. In America, we put so much junk in our bodies. Many of us don't get proper sleep, and healthy foods are not prioritized because of how expensive they can be, even on welfare for many people. There is not much time for exercise, especially if their checks can't meet ends meet. On the other hand, mental health is on a steady decline because it is not as prioritized as physical health. With so many pressures to navigate through life properly, people are prone to take up negative coping habits. Sometimes as adults, there is a stigma for being mentally unwell because the myth is that we should already have our life together. Societal standards also taught us that we should fend for ourselves rather than rely on support systems. It is so ingrained in our culture that even prioritizing friendships as adults are looked down on. Lastly, I believe there is a remedy for physical and mental health: getting rid of the lower class. It is not to say "stop being poor." It is the case where the poverty rates in America are so high that people can't help but prioritize things on the cheaper scale, such as processed foods and choosing to live in poorer areas. Not everyone has the means of getting regular checkups, medication, and therapy. By giving abundant resources to people in poverty, they will be able to live healthily.

As a second-generation Asian American born to an immigrant single mother, no matter how many sacrifices she has made, that did not stop the ridicule, the jeering, and the ostracism from her own family. As the bastard child, immense pressure fell on me to save face for my family and me. The constant judgment and verbal abuse from being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. Art became my solace to escape during the darkest times: free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. It took me many years of consistent outpatient therapy and medication to allow a healthier lifestyle to shine through the cracks. The healing took some time, but I was finally able to take my education to the next level when I enrolled at a local community college at 22. Throughout my time at CCP, I honed my skills and relished the company of people who support me as I strive for something bigger. My confidence increased because of my community's support. Because of them, I felt like my thoughts and feelings mattered and were worth something. Although the education was humble, the professors were very passionate about what they taught. If it were not for them, I would not be completing my A.A. and pursuing a B.A. I was lucky to be surrounded by a supportive community because they would push me to be better and have confidence in what I do. It was a long journey, but I am proud of my progress in my mental health and my self-development.

There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. As a second-generation Asian American born to an immigrant single mother, no matter how many sacrifices she has made, that did not stop the ridicule, the jeering, and the ostracism from her own family. As the bastard child, immense pressure fell on me to save face for my family and me. The constant judgment and verbal abuse from being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. Art became my solace to escape during the darkest times: free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not noteworthy, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard assigned to us without our consent? It is easy to internalize the harsh words. Although, as an adult, we do not have time to wallow in self-pity and fester from it. It took me many years of consistent outpatient therapy and medication to allow a healthier lifestyle to shine through the cracks. The healing took some time, but I was finally able to take my education to the next level when I enrolled at a local community college at 22. Throughout my time at CCP, I honed my skills and relished the company of people who support me as I strive for something bigger. Meanwhile, I was briefly in the art club at my community college. As someone my family has ostracized, it was nice to be around other art majors of color who also experienced my struggle. I relished in their company and felt like my thoughts and feelings mattered and were worth something. My confidence increased because of my community's support. Although the education was humble, the professors were very passionate about what they taught. If it were not for them, I would not be completing my A.A. and pursuing a B.A. I was lucky to be surrounded by a supportive community because they would push me to be better and have confidence in what I do. Overall, being a first-generation college graduate means achieving a milestone for my immigrant family, who could not pursue higher education. It means breaking the model minority stereotype. It means making a change in the lives of young Asian Americans so that they can pursue whatever major they want, as long as they put their hearts into it.

There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. As a second-generation Asian American born to an immigrant single mother, no matter how many sacrifices she has made, that did not stop the ridicule, the jeering, and the ostracism from her own family. As the bastard child, immense pressure fell on me to save face for my family and me. The constant judgment and verbal abuse from being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. Art became my solace to escape during the darkest times: free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not noteworthy, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard assigned to us without our consent? It is easy to internalize the harsh words. Although, as an adult, we do not have time to wallow in self-pity and fester from it. It took me many years of consistent outpatient therapy and medication to allow a healthier lifestyle to shine through the cracks. The healing took some time, but I was finally able to take my education to the next level when I enrolled at a local community college at 22. Throughout my time at CCP, I honed my skills and relished the company of people who support me as I strive for something bigger. Although the education was humble, the professors were very passionate about what they taught. I was lucky to be surrounded by a supportive community because they would push me to be better and have confidence in what I do. If it were not for them, I would not be completing my A.A. and pursuing a B.A. Sometimes, it gets challenging to handle what goes on in my mental state as an emotional person. With depression and anxiety, there is nothing wrong with reaching out from time to time. At the same time, I also need to consider that my support system might not have time for me. So, it is understandable that I put in the work, which is why I plan to prioritize my support throughout college by keeping the memory of their time and care in my heart. I will always hold dear the people who have helped me through my darkest hour. Knowing that I am not alone and have people who love me for me, I know I can push through. I am loved, and I am worth it.

There is immense pressure for Asian immigrants and children of immigrants to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. As a second-generation Asian American born to an immigrant single mother, no matter how many sacrifices she has made, that did not stop the ridicule, the jeering, and the ostracism from her own family. As the bastard child, immense pressure fell on me to save face for my family and me. My uncle verbally abused me by calling me fat and stupid every chance he got compared to his daughter. Also, who tells a three-year-old that they won’t be anything in life? I remember being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies. The constant judgment and verbal abuse eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. During the darkest times, art became my solace to escape: free of attachments and free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not noteworthy, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard assigned to us without our consent? It is easy to internalize the harsh words. Although, as an adult, we do not have time to wallow in self-pity and fester from it. As I reflect, I need to credit the many cartoons I’ve watched in my childhood. During the darkest times, cartoons and comics were right there when I needed to escape and be in my own world, free from attachments and free to express myself without judgment. I appreciated the people who worked on animation and creating stories. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. I have yet to fully overcome my trauma but understanding that I am more than that has helped me on my journey to healing. With my goal to add representation to Asian Americans in the arts, this will be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. We are more than the box society puts us in. With my role in the arts, I aspire to bring representation to young Asian Americans that have been through struggles growing up. Asian Americans should not have to pick and choose between two cultures. I yearn for a future for Asians, or not, to understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be put on a pedestal, and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard. Like everything else, it is a slow process. Little by little, one step at a time is all that is needed.

For the longest time, I thought I made good decisions and choices of friendships, but really, I was filling a gap that I refused to fix. With credit to my partner and our many long and difficult conversations, we were able to break it down to the nitty-gritty. I learned due to the abandonment issues, I clung to anyone available and willing to stick by me. Because of that, I discovered I had unresolved tensions and matters with myself that I avoided fixing because I preferred to fix other people’s issues. I learned that I focus on people who haven’t been the greatest of friends to me rather than the people who have been with me through thick and thin. It was a difficult road to process that because I was so stubborn in my ways that I felt like I was the one in the right and didn’t want to admit to my mistakes. I grew up verbally abused, so when I finally experienced positive affirmation from people, I didn’t want that to stop. It was thanks to my partner and our talks that I was able to develop a realistic mindset. As an adult, I can’t keep crying over mundane things when there are bigger fish to fry. I can’t pour from an empty cup, so I learned to focus on myself and how I can be better, which means taking time out of the day to reflect. As I make great strives to improve my lifestyle and pursue my B.A., I’ve also learned to be passionate in the essays I write because I want to live independently, so no one has to worry about me. I stopped letting the wrong people enable my toxic behavior and learned to be at peace with myself.

Friendship means knowing your limits. As a friend, sometimes it is easy to let your friends be toxic toward you and enable their behavior for the sake of loving them. However, this can be detrimental to your well-being because you are not getting back what you are putting out. When I was 18, I thought I had a friend when she would vent to me constantly about her relationship with her boyfriend. Yet, I would overlook my better judgment and provide a listening ear every time. I would drop everything to be there for her, even risking my own relationship with my partner. Not once would the conversation be about me and my day. It was always about her. It wasn’t until I expressed my discomfort and called her in on her toxicity that she left. It hurt badly to lose someone for expressing my opinion, but I realize that it just meant that we weren’t compatible. It wasn’t until my 20s that I experienced true friendship; it also means support and being able to express how you feel without being judged. I remember being able to let my guard down and grieve after a traumatic event while being comforted. It means being able to understand each other. It means conveying patience and love through words and actions that you are willing to be patient with them as you all grow as long as all are willing. I remember friends telling me the things they regretted and how I was able to help them grow from them. It meant a lot to be a part of their growth. Friendship is giving and taking, and I will forever be grateful for those who choose to be in my life.

For Asian immigrants and children of immigrants, there is immense pressure to succeed in the new world. Such meant they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. For that reason, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what happened. I remember being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies. The constant judgment and verbal abuse eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find comfort in the arts. During the darkest times, art became my solace to escape: free of attachments and free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. It is easy to internalize the harsh words. Although, as an adult, we do not have time to wallow in self-pity and fester from it. While I have a support system, ultimately, no one is going to take care of me other than me, and there is nothing wrong with that. Journaling also helped, so I could vent to my heart’s content because it helps to reflect on my thoughts and work toward a healthier mindset. Managing a schedule also helps. After all, it keeps track of what I need to do because it helps to hold me accountable for responsibilities and brings organization to my disordered mind. It has been helpful because I also enjoy making checklists on what I got done. I usually keep it to myself, but that is okay. In a world where we constantly have pressure to overachieve and do great things, it’s easy to forget we are just humans. So, it helps to remember that there is only so much we can do. As humans, we make mistakes, but we should not let those thoughts stop us from growing. At best, we need to remember to take things one step at a time. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not noteworthy, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard assigned to us without our consent? With my goal to add representation to Asian Americans in the arts, this will be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. We are more than the box society puts us in. With my role in the arts, I aspire to bring representation to young Asian Americans that have been through struggles growing up. Asian Americans should not have to pick and choose between two cultures. I yearn for a future for Asians, or not, to understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be put on a pedestal, and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard. Like everything else, it is a slow process. Little by little, one step at a time is all that is needed.

I love this piece of art because of the exploratory use of colors. Shortly before the pandemic, I had drawn something on PaintTool SAI about my depression leading to my self-harmful habits. I wanted to utilize colors to represent how I was feeling. After that, I took a hiatus in art other than school assignments until I bounced back on my feet. Due to the support of my partner, I was able to push myself to recover and stop harming myself mentally and physically. It was grueling, but I had to persevere. It wasn’t until the pandemic occurred that the dynamics of everything changed drastically. Community college closed its campus doors, so everything was online. At first, it was manageable because it was nice not to spend money on rides to campus, and I got to spend more time in person with my partner. The dynamics of my social life also shifted. I preferred in-person hangouts because I was not great at keeping up online relationships. When the pandemic happened, many of us were adamant about social distancing. The mentality is that we need to make sacrifices to keep ourselves safe, so we can keep our loved ones safe. It was understandable, so it didn’t bother me. As time passed and the more time I spent alone with my thoughts, I learned to reflect on my actions and how they affected the people around me. Such led me to develop intense anxiety in addition to an existential crisis that lasted for two years. It was not fun because I constantly analyzed what makes a person do what they do. Why do customers feel the need to harass customer service workers? Why do people feel the need to lie to their friends? Why did I feel like I did something great when I didn’t? These are just a few examples of a myriad of other things. Even my therapist and medication couldn’t help me. I felt obsolete as a human being and lost touch with what it means to be a person. I’m grateful to my partner for standing by me throughout this ordeal. It took frequent difficult, heart-to-heart conversations and much-needed self-control to help me cope with being so out of touch with reality to get where I am today. As I gradually recovered from my funk, I was able to focus more on my art. It was also thanks to my professor for pushing me to excel in my art and helping me decide on what art school I wanted to transfer to. At the beginning of this year, I documented how far I came into the art that I attached to this scholarship. As I said previously, I enjoyed using colors to reflect my emotions. I chose saturated and psychedelic colors to portray how much a trip it was to get where I am today. My hair was unkempt, and my eyes had bags under them. Despite that, my gaze was tired but was more assured and confident. My smile was subtle because I did not care for keeping up an overly optimistic façade anymore. I used to exaggerate how positive I felt when I wasn’t. I honestly thought I was happy, but I realized the friends I had were just distractions from nurturing myself. This time to myself helped me understand which relationships with who mattered. I wanted to be more genuine with myself and with other people. I realized that despite the hardships I went through, I am grateful for them.

I practice self-care in the sense that I try not to be hard on myself. As someone who dealt with constant verbal abuse during childhood, it is easy to internalize the harsh words. Although, as an adult, we do not have time to wallow in self-pity and fester from it. While I have a support system, ultimately, no one is going to take care of me other than me, and there is nothing wrong with that. It can come in external forms, such as getting myself a little treat or practicing basic hygiene. As I pursue my B.A. while working a full-time job and managing depression, things can get overwhelming. So, with simple things like stepping into the shower or even brushing my teeth and putting on a fresh pair of clothes, I can feel so much better about myself. As for internal self-care, I can vent to my heart’s content when I journal because it helps to reflect on my thoughts and work toward a healthier mindset. Managing a schedule also helps. After all, it keeps track of what I need to do because it helps to hold me accountable for responsibilities and brings organization to my disordered mind. It has been helpful because I also enjoy making checklists on what I got done. So, I can look back and see how much I got through. In a world where we constantly have pressure to overachieve and do great things, it’s easy to forget we are just humans. So, it helps to remember that there is only so much we can do. As humans, we make mistakes, but we should not let those thoughts stop us from growing. At best, we need to remember to take things one step at a time.

Patience is important to me because it reassures me that I am worthy of that time and patience people give me. Ultimately, I am just a regular person to that no one has an obligation. So, it means an awful lot when I do experience that patience. For much of my life, I’ve dealt with constant verbal abuse from my family and left to lick my wounds while they focus on better things and better people. I remember being ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies because my talents lie in the arts. The constant criticism eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I honestly felt like I was emotionally stunted at one point because I believed that I could never do better and was never good enough. I felt as if there was no hope for me. It wasn’t until my adult years that I understood that I am loved and that there are people who are willing to be patient with me and my gradual growth. With the patience of my loved ones, I learned how to hold myself accountable for my mistakes without being abandoned. I am not easy to be around, so I am vastly grateful to those who still stand by me while I grow as a person. I learned to grow out of my codependent nature and face the world confidently. It’s scary to take in sometimes, but I know I am worthy of being loved. With that patience given to me, I also learned to be patient with myself. I am just one person, so there is only so much I can do but take things one step at a time. We live in a world where we're hard on ourselves. So why not just take things slow?

Growing up in an immigrant household can have its struggles as it is the obligation of children born in the states to learn everything and translate for the family. In Asian culture, families tend to rival their children's accomplishments against each other even if they are in the same family. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what affected me. To succeed in the new world, one must study hard and excel in STEM fields because that is what will bring in income to live a comfortable lifestyle. My family came from a poor area in Saigon, Vietnam. They had to struggle to get by, so they would start work as children. When they came to the U.S., they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. With that in mind, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children like many children of immigrants. In contrast to the interests of my family, mine lay in the arts. No matter how much I studied anything STEM-related, I never could grasp the information at hand, which led to ridicule, jeering, and ostracization from family. I was called stupid, fat, and told I would never be anything in life. As a child, I did not understand why I was called that and normalized that in my daily life. It was not until I was in my late teens that the constant verbal abuse would catch up to me, and I developed depression and anxiety. It got up to the point where I was hesitant to go to college because I feared living up to familial expectations of being a failure, and I was admitted to an inpatient hospital when I was 19. Despite that, art had always been a source of solace in my childhood, in my hospital stay, and until I enrolled in community college at 22. Although it was a slightly late age to go back to school, my professors and peers have been immensely supportive of my endeavors to succeed in my own way and paved a pathway for me to embrace my talents in the arts. As I achieve my A.A. this semester, I knew I wanted to make a change in the lives of young Asian Americans. I appreciated going back to school. Being raised in a sheltered lifestyle, it was amazing to see people of Asian descent who also shared my love for the arts. I believe the field you choose should be a personal choice, and pursuing art is my personal choice. Seeing Asian representation in the American art industry matters to an Asian-American because it allows many other Asian-Americans to feel like they have a voice and they are not alone. With my goal to use my education to serve my community by adding representation to Asian Americans in the arts, this will be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. We are more than the box society puts us in. As I pursue my B.A., with my role in the arts, I aspire to bring representation to young Asian Americans that have been through struggles growing up. Gradually, I hope that Asian Americans, or not, understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be placed on a pedestal, and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard.

When I walked into an art university’s building for the first time, everywhere I turned was filled with various forms of fine art. The multitude of halls and floors was embellished with the art of many professors and students. I remembered my eyes sparkling as I passed by each corridor. As someone raised in a sheltered lifestyle, it was amazing to see people of Asian descent who also shared my love for the arts. With my goal to add representation to Asian Americans in the arts, this will be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. As Asian immigrants and children of immigrants, there is immense pressure to succeed in the new world. My family was from a poor area in Sài Gòn, Việt Nam. They had to struggle to get by, so they would start work as children. When they came to the U.S., they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. With that in mind, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children like many children of immigrants face. However, my goal is to show that Asians are more than their stereotype. This scholarship will not only bring some financial ease, but it will also contribute to my education as a first-generation collegegoer to receive a bachelor’s degree. As a second-generation Asian-American, there is immense pressure to succeed in STEM careers. However, I believe the field you choose should be a personal choice, and pursuing art is my personal choice. Seeing Asian representation in the American art industry matters to an Asian-American because it allows many other Asian-Americans to feel like they have a voice. It is the fact that seeing and being around people who look like and have similar goals and interests as me makes me feel less alone. This scholarship would be a valuable contribution to furthering a prospective student’s education since I did not fully immerse myself in higher education until I was 22. Between the years of high school and finally enrolling in a local community college, I became a relatively troubled youth as my mental health spiraled downward. The years of pent-up trauma from my childhood would rear its head. The constant verbal abuse and neglect from family other than my mother allowed a once cheerful child to develop anxiety and depression. It also did not help that in Asian culture, there is always room to compare me to my more successful relatives who are in STEM. Although it was difficult for me to ease into a proper education because of that reason, CCP helped me feel like I belonged there and inspired me to keep striving for my dream of becoming an illustrator. Throughout my time there, I honed my skills and relished in the company of other amazing artists who support me as I strive for something bigger. As I am completing my associate degree this semester, I believe it is an incredible idea to help me further my education to receive a B.A. When I complete my B.A., I aspire to become an illustrator to work either as a storyboard artist or a book illustrator. The people who work in these professions added so much light to my childhood. So, I hope to bring that same light to young Asian Americans who have been in my shoes. I hope to set an example that success is not linear and can look like anything. We do not need to have our lives together; we only need to persevere.

My goal comprises of two things: adding representation to Asian Americans in the arts and breaking the model minority stereotype. I was ostracized and ridiculed for my lack of interest in STEM studies in my childhood. The constant judgment and verbal abuse eventually led me to develop depression and anxiety. I was, however, able to find solace in the arts. I appreciated the time and effort the artists put into each fine detail. So, I began to create art for myself. During the darkest times, art became my solace to escape and be in my own world: free of attachments and free to express myself without judgment. Because of those experiences, art became a way for me to process my feelings. With my goal to add representation to Asian Americans in the arts, this will be able to segue into my other goal of breaking the model minority stereotype. As Asian immigrants and children of immigrants, there is immense pressure to succeed in the new world. My family was from a poor area in Sài Gòn, Việt Nam. They had to struggle to get by, so they would start work as children. When they came to the U.S., they had to work extra hard to prove to Americans that they were worth living there. With that in mind, they thought it would be helpful to push their ideals onto their children like many children of immigrants face. Their reasonings are valid because their mentality is that they don’t want their children to face the same hardships they faced. Unfortunately, this can come with constant comparisons, harsh criticism, and even physical discipline. You might have heard stories from most Asians stating that they get constantly compared to others. Admittedly, the competitive nature can work for some people. Although the case with others not being able to cut it—their circumstances can impact the mental state. For me, the latter was what affected me. In many ethnic families, generational trauma is a huge part of life. My mother was a single parent, which is taboo in Asian culture. No matter how many sacrifices she made, that did not stop the ridicule and ostracism from her own family. That role bled into her adult years. As a result, she passed that role on to me to carry that burden to save face for my family and me. Because of my lack of knowledge in STEM fields, I was often not considered Asian enough by both family and peers, which led to a decline in my self-worth as an Asian. A question I would frequently think about: Am I Asian, or am I American? I often struggled with balancing the two cultures. However, the model minority stereotype was too much for me to handle, so I leaned more toward the American culture. I remember feeling resentment for going through these issues when Asians are just regular people. We are not special, so why should we have to uphold a stereotype and standard that was placed on us without our consent? We are more than the box society puts us in. As I pursue my B.A., with my role in the arts, I aspire to bring representation to young Asian Americans that have been through struggles growing up. Asian Americans should not have to pick and choose between two cultures. Little by little, I hope that Asian Americans, or not, understand that we are just regular people at the end of the day. We do not need to be put on a pedestal and we have no reason to be stigmatized for not upholding a standard.

One personal finance lesson I find important is that time is money. What I learned is that with applying to scholarships, I would need to work hard and put time and energy into my essays, just as my mom worked hard and put time and energy into her job as a provider. Being financially literate is important to me because my mother came to the states as an immigrant to give me a good life, so I don’t have to struggle. When she came to the states, she had to start from the ground up, yet she was still able to provide for me. Since I have the privilege of knowing the English language, I should not only be able to provide for myself the basic necessities, I should also be able to provide for my education for a better future. Although this is definitely hard to do as many jobs require a certain amount of education, it would be difficult to pay for one.

What generosity means to me is the act of keeping someone in mind and exhibiting that behavior to the receiver of that action or gift. Growing up with little to no friends and not developing proper social skills until starting college after high school was very lonely. I made do with the friends I had during that time even when I would give too much than I would receive. Granted, at the time, because I did not know any better, I thought anyone talking to me was a blessing regardless of whether it was a positive interaction or not. It was not until college that I would have my first real friend who would actively enjoy my company. This happened when I came back to my hometown late for an assignment. It was near midnight and my phone was on 1%. A few weeks prior, I met her in an Asian women’s therapy group session, and we hit it off right away. Granted, although it was a brief interaction, I had to take a risk in contacting her, or else I would have to sleep in the streets of a dangerous neighborhood I wasn’t familiar with. To my pleasant surprise, she picked up the phone and let me come over. We talked through most of the night about our issues and laughed through it because we both knew that we were safe. I am a simple person. The fact that a person would willingly make time for me means so much. As I write this, tears are welling up. Small actions can feel so big to the other person because it leaves a long-lasting impression. We grew apart, but I will never forget what she did, and I will forever be thankful.