Throughout my time in high school, I struggled to find what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. No subject seemed worth my time, and no topic was interesting enough for me to want to pursue. It wasn’t until I started to pay more attention to what was going on in the world around me that I realized what change I needed to make in this country. The start of my enlightenment began with the presidential victory of Donald Trump, a billionaire ex-reality television show host who had zero background in politics. I was only in the sixth grade at the time, but I already knew that the result of this election was going to have monumental impacts on society and people all together. The morning after the election results came out, there seemed to be an overwhelming feeling of worry and uncertainty hovering over my household. My parents woke up my sisters and I, but instead of getting ready for school, they gave us a talk about how the world was most likely going to change, and that it would probably change for the worst. We were told not to mention anything about the election at school, and if people talked about it, to ignore them. We were told that some people truly were malicious, but also that the American justice system was built to protect them. In the sixth grade, this didn’t seem like something that would matter in four more years, but as I grew older, I began to realize that the election of Donald Trump wasn’t the start of something evil; it was the result of it. It was because of discoveries like this that I knew that I needed to study political science. Our country was built on the backs of people of color, while simultaneously being founded on their discrimination as well. And although times are changing, it seems to be at a much slower rate than it could be, due to resistance from people who can’t comprehend the importance of the policies in which they are fighting against. To fix this problem, the country as a whole has to be able to not only acknowledge the prejudice deeply rooted in most American institutions, but also be willing to put forth the effort it takes to change them. Those changes, however, have to be made officially with the government for them to have any power. Attending a four-year university, I wouldn’t just be able to learn about the government and its policies, I will be fully submerged in its impact as well. Through hopefully being surrounded by people of color like myself, specifically black men, I will be introduced to the impact American society has on those it wasn’t originally created to benefit, and hopefully learn what changes need to be made to make America the true democracy it was designed to be.

My mom is a single mom of four girls, and I am the oldest of the four. All my life, I have often been the one that helps around the house and the person my mom confides in the most. Although my mom and I have had some rough times, I can confidently say that my mom is my bestfriend and that I am hers. She picks me up during my lunch at school so that we can hang out together, has gone to every one of my dance performances, and even invites me to go out with her and her adult friends (even though my answer is no every time). No matter what I need, my mom has always found out a way to make it happen. It is very important to her that I go to college, just as she did, so that I can "get out of Texas and change the world" in her own words. There was a point in time when I didn't even want to go to college because I thought it was useless in teaching me what I thought I needed to be successful in life. My mom, however, did everything in her power to show to me that college was the place I needed to be and that she could get me there if I truly wanted to go. She reminded me about the impact I could make on countless people if I had the knowledge to do so, and all the new opportunities that could be presented to me if I had a college degree. Because money has always been an issue for us, she is the main person who encouraged me to apply for as many scholarships as I can because she believed I could benefit if I truly put my mind to it. My mom is undoubtedly my number one supporter. After convincing me that I belonged in the university setting, she greatly motivated me to start looking at more of the highly selective universities because she believed that I am the most capable applicant they would be getting. Although this is often just something parents say to their children to boost their spirits, I could tell that my mom truly meant those words from the bottom of her heart. Without my mom, I probably would've been a high school dropout, but because of her I will change the world, all with my number one person by my side.

My mental health has been something of a struggle for me for a while now. I used to be the most outgoing kid. I was friends with everybody, did amazing in school, it seemed as though I was on a path for greatness. But as people started to realize my potential, they also started to push me to achieve it. Little did they know, they would eventually end up pushing me over the edge. I started to realize my decline in mental health when the things I used to love no longer became enjoyable to me. I started dancing at the age of 2, and since that point, my biggest dream was to become a professional ballerina. It started to look like I was going to achieve that dream too. I was very skilled for my age, something that didn't go unnoticed by my teachers. I began to get special treatment, began to skip levels, got published in the Houston Chronicle at the age of 10, and even got to dance at the American Ballet Theatre in New York City for 5 weeks during the summer, the same place where prima ballerina Misty Copeland got her fame. That was where I peaked, so it all went downhill from there. When the year-round program started again at the Houston Ballet Academy, where I had been a student for years, something changed. I began to realize that I was no longer "the best", that I no longer caught the eye of my teachers. This, I now know, was at no fault of my own. I was the youngest in my class by at least 3 years, and because I had skipped so many levels at a young age, I missed out on some important fundamental training. I started to have full-blown panic attacks whenever I made even the smallest of mistakes, crying at the front of the room because my teacher would tell me to "sit down until I composed myself". This developed into me vomiting whenever class was about to start, my body trying to tell me how much I no longer wanted to do this, that I could no longer handle it. I went to doctor after doctor, got test after test, in an attempt to find out what was making me so violently ill, but everything was coming back clean. It wasn't until I went to a therapist, years later, that I found out the cause of my vomiting spells was severe anxiety from ballet. Eventually, I ended up just skipping class, spending the entirety of my 6-hour ballet class day hiding in the locker room. When I finally got the courage to ask to quit, I was told by everyone how big of a mistake that would be, that I was too talented, too young, for this to be the right call. I wasn't allowed to quit, so I began to resort to injuring myself to try to get out of it. I would try to twist my ankle, sprain my knee, and when I successfully pulled my hamstring, it was the most relief I felt in a long time. It has now been 4 years since I quit ballet, and I still can't take a ballet class without wanting to cry, not because I regret quitting, but because my anxiety is still there, telling me I will never be good enough. I quit the thing I loved most, the thing I was planning to do for the rest of my life, and had to completely reroute my way of thinking. Because of the 12 years I spent thinking I would become a professional ballerina, I still have zero clue what I want to major in, let alone what I will do with my life. My relationships have suffered greatly from my decline mental health as well. Like I mentioned earlier, I used to be the most cheerful kid. In the 5th grade, for class superlatives, I was voted "Best Smile". Now, it is hard for me to even find happiness in anything. When I was diagnosed with sever anxiety, I was also diagnosed with depression. I went on SSRI's, but it didn't really change the way I felt. I stopped talking to friends and family, stopped leaving my room. I grew distant, only finding comfort when I was by myself with no one to bother me. My mom didn't, and still doesn't, understand. She punishes me for no longer hanging out with my sisters, for seeming like I don't like anybody, for not paying attention when she's talking to me. She doesn't understand that I am not being disrespectful, not purposefully at least, but that I am just trying to find a reason to keep going. Truthfully I tried to commit suicide more than once. The most recent time, I ended up getting grounded and having my phone taken away because I was supposed to be babysitting my sisters and their friends. My mom knows what happened, the reason why I was watching them, but just doesn't understand. It seems like too many people just don't understand. I feel like my mental illnesses have opened my eyes to the way the world truly is. I feel as though I have become more compassionate, more caring, mainly because that is the way I would wish to be treated myself. Things that I used to see as outrageous and irresponsible, like people turning to drugs or becoming homeless, I now see the true reasoning for the paths that led to those outcomes. People are never what they seem at first glance, and you need to be able to empathize in order to truly be of any benefit to the world. That is my goal, just to help people, because like I said, if it were me in that situation, help is all I would need to go on.

When I was younger, I used to think the world was so beautiful. From my small, innocent eyes, I could see no wrong. My life was amazing, and nothing impacted me too negatively. But as I got older, that began to change. I began to see all the small imperfections, the dents, in the social frame of the world. Too many people were still so blind to all that went on in the world. They saw the homeless, and thought, "Well they should've worked harder", not even making the connection that sometimes, you have no control over the life and opportunities you are born into. They saw an abandoned animal and thought, "Oh that's sad", not even trying to do anything to bring that animal to safety. Some people, whether they are blind or just choosing to be ignorant, never truly realize the privilege they have until it's threatened. In Houston, Tx, where I live, there is a large population of homeless people. I see them in tents under the highways and begging for money on the street. I have even come across, on multiple different occasions, homeless people living in the woods amongst the trees and insects. Homelessness is not only a major issue in Houston, though. The homeless population in America is one of, if not THE largest in the world. This is because the educational, social, and work system in the US is not meant to give any aide to anybody in the homeless community. People will say, "Just get a job", but what I would like for them to give great thought to, is HOW they would be able to get that said job? Most job applications are done online. How likely is it for a homeless person to have some sort of device that is able to get on the internet? Say they are able to apply for that job, what are they supposed to put for their address? When they go into the job for an interview, what are they supposed to wear? They most likely aren't going to be the cleanest, aren't going to have the nicest haircut or outfit, and first impressions are everything when it comes to getting a job. And if by some miracle they do get the job, where are they supposed to deposit their checks? Now, these aren't issues I have a solution for at this point in time, don't get me wrong, but they are very impactful to the way of life for a homeless person. My goal, is to make their lives just the slightest bit easier. I started doing work to support the homeless community at a young age. I joined an organization called Jack and Jill of America at the age of 7, an organization meant to help African-American children and their moms connect and help with their community. Every month, we have meetings where we find new ways to benefit the less fortunate community in Houston. At least twice every year, we volunteer at the Houston Food Bank, sorting and packaging food to give out to the homeless. For the past 2 years, during Christmas time, we have worked with a homeless family shelter, buying gifts for the kids and the parents alike, so they can all have a happy, celebrated Christmas. In August, when it starts to get cold, we all come together and create patchwork blankets, as many as we can, to give to any homeless shelters in need. We also partner with Meals on Wheels, a non-for-profit organization that provides meals for seniors and adults with disabilities, who might struggle with getting the food for themselves. When I was 13, I joined another organization called the National Charity League, who also met every month to find new ways to help the community. By a certain deadline, you had to have accumulated a certain number of community service hours to stay in the organization. However, I left the National Charity League after a year because, to me, they were more focused on getting volunteer hours than they were on actually creating a real impact towards the benefit of the Houston community. I, personally, have done significant work separately to further help the homeless community in my area. Every 6 months, my family and I go through our closets and donate all of the clothes we no longer wear to a local shelter close to our house. My family and I also make care packages to go along with our clothes, which include necessities like toiletries, socks, napkins, hairbrushes, etc., that the people in the shelter might not have access to. When I was 12, I started to crotchet blankets and scarfs to keep in my mom's car, and handout to whatever homeless people we happen to pass buy on our drive. I, unfortunately, haven't been able to do that as often because my free time has lessened as I reached high school, but I still handout blankets whenever I can. My sisters and I also have a big plastic jar of spare change, and whenever it fills up, we count it and buy as many meals as we can with that money, also to hand out to the people we pass on our drives. Something that I haven't been able to do yet, but that I constantly think about, is whenever I am able to get a car, I will always hand out whatever cash I have with me at the time to whomever I may pass on my drive. If I don't have any cash, I will go to the closest place I can buy food and buy them a hot meal. For me, I think it is extremely important to help the homeless community whenever and as often as you can, because you never know if you are going to be in that same situation. Sometimes, all you truly need is a helping hand to pull you out of the dark and into a new day.

On the outside, I seem like the "perfect" girl. I have the "perfect" grades, the "perfect" personality, the "perfect" family, the "perfect" friends, the "perfect" body, so to anybody who's around me, it's hard for them to believe that I'm not. But really, truly, I am not. My grades seem "perfect" because that's what I have to do to get out of this place I live in, to go to college with a scholarship, so I no longer have to stay where I am. I NEED the best possible grades to increase my chances at going far away from Texas as possible. That's all I want, to be away from my family, my "home". My personality seems "perfect" because it was specifically made for the person I am with. I am never able to be myself, my true self, because people find the way I talk "too wild", the random movements I make "too weird", the way I laugh at absolutely everything, no matter if it's funny or not, "too crazy". I learned at a young age that "being yourself" is only acceptable when "yourself" is a perfect reflection of the way everyone around you is acting. My "perfect" family is far from it, honestly. My parents are divorced, for one. My dad is a high ranking army officer who is obsessed with "perfection". My mom has undiagnosed mental illnesses that cause her to be extremely irrational and to verbally, and sometimes physically, attack the person she thinks her uneasiness is being caused by, which most of the time, is me. I currently am having to live with my grandparents, because me and my mom's interactions with each other started getting so intense and physical, that I began to runaway, to disappear into the night, because I couldn't handle anymore of it. I also started to turn to self harm, whether it be the obvious intentional harm, through cutting or breaking things, or the less obvious subconscious harm I was causing myself, through no longer eating or doing extremely risky things that could have severe consequences if something went wrong. My relationship with my younger sisters are almost nonexistent, because I was never around when they needed me most. In regards to my "perfect" friends, they aren't truly people I would call my friends in the first place. High school is not the place where you will find your friends for life. Teenagers aren't fully developed, they don't have their priorities discovered and straight yet. Not a single one of my "friends" would be there for me if I needed a shoulder to cry on. Not a single one of my "friends" would listen to me if I just needed somebody to talk to. That is a lesson I learned the hard way. In my mind, I don't have any true friends, just the people who like to call me when they're bored, the people who like to post pictures with me when we hangout once in a blue moon. Those aren't true friends. And my "perfect" body, well I prefer to think of it as my battle scars. I started dancing at the age of 2, joined a renowned ballet school at the age of 8, started dancing from the second school let out to 10PM at the age of 12. My dream was to be a professional ballerina for 12 years of my life. 12 years I will never be able to get back. In my teachers' eyes, I was a "prodigy". I got many more opportunities than the rest of my classmates, performed in more shows, even started skipping levels by the age of 10. That's when my dream started to turn into a nightmare. Because I was skipping so many levels, I started have classes with kids much older than me, kids much more talented than me. I was no longer a "prodigy", just another student. I no longer got special opportunities, no longer performed in any shows. My teachers no longer liked me, and it felt like I had just gotten kicked to the curb. This is when my anxiety started spiking. I vomiting whenever class was starting, started having full-blown panic attacks whenever I messed up even in the slightest. I eventually had to quit the thing I used to love the most, and all I had left to show for all my hard work and dedication was my "perfect" body. People think I'm "perfect", but truly, I am a misfit in my core.

My life has revolved around the arts my entire life. I started dancing at the age of 2, took my first art class at the age of 8, started photography at the age of 12, started knitting at the age of 13, and started to sell my own paintings at the age of 15. My drive to continue to do these kinds of things is actually nothing anybody else would find beneficial but me; I do it because I love it. I find inspiration in absolutely everything, from the way my pen sits in my cup, to the way the characters on my television screen move and dance around. There is nothing that art can't be seen in, if you just open your mind to it. If I got this scholarship, I would use it to buy more art supplies, because to me, I can never have enough. I love having a wide range of mediums to work with, because I never truly know what I'm creating until it's finished. My dream job, as soon in the future as it can happen, is to own my own art business, where I sell my pieces to the people that need them most. I truly believe that art helps heal, and all I want to do is allow my own art to do at least some of the healing, and if I am able to do that, I will be perfectly content with where I am in life.

I have experienced extreme adversity with my mental health starting at a fairly young age. Because of how young I was, people often disregarded it as me being "dramatic" or "looking for attention", but all I truly ever wanted was just someone to care enough to help me. I was in a high stress environment for as long as I remember. It was known to most people in my family that I was smarter than most people my age, so I was enrolled at T.H. Rogers, a public school in Houston TX for gifted and talented students. I was enrolled there in kindergarten, and I loved it. I had so many friends, the teachers all loved me, and in my mind, I ruled the school. Everything was amazing, until in the 2nd grade, I was also enrolled in the Houston Ballet Academy as an after school engagement. I loved ballet, I had been doing it since I was 2 years old, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity for me. As soon as I started dancing at the Houston Ballet, something clicked inside of me, and I believed with every fiber in my being that this is what I was going to do for the rest of my life. I had an amazing talent at my young age, which was quickly recognized by the staff at the ballet. I was separated from the rest of my class, not physically, but more emotionally. I was given more opportunities than the rest of my classmates, performed in more shows, and was even put in the debut cast for more than one ballets, a feat that none of my other classmates had done. My earliest memory when I was there was probably during my second year in the academy. My teacher told me to have a jumping contest against one of the male TAs in front of my entire class, me being 7 and him being probably 18 or 19. I think my teacher did that to show how good of a jumper I was at such a young age, and it made me feel good, at the time. At the end of each year, we have a spring showcase, a performance for our parents to see how much we have improved. When you are in level 2 and level 4, there are special solo parts for the student they think is the most deserving, the best in the class, and I got both parts during my years in those levels. After level 4, my teachers decided I was too good, so I started skipping levels. This put me in the classes with girls 3-4 years older than me, high schoolers, while I was only in the 7th grade. My classes suddenly went from 4pm, right when school got out, to 8:30 at night every weekday, then 9am to 6:15 at night on Saturdays. I was beyond excited for this opportunity, and everything was going as I expected, until I realized, I was no longer the best in the class. All of a sudden, almost like someone flipped a switch, I was no longer getting any opportunities, I was no longer the favorite. This absolutely crushed me. I went from getting photographed alongside the professionals for the Houston Chronicle, to just being in the background in the off chance I got casted in a show. And I had no clue what I did that was wrong. The reality of it was, I did nothing, I just was pushed too far too young. I started to snap. I would hide in the locker room during my classes, because I no longer wanted to participate. When I would go to class, I would almost get bullied by the same teachers who used to love me when I was younger, because I was no longer the best. It got to a point where anytime class was about to start, I would start to vomit. I went to many doctors for this, got countless blood tests, but nothing was showing up. After going to a therapist, I now know that my vomiting fits were my body subconsciously telling me not to go in there, that I couldn't take any more of it. The therapist diagnosed me with severe anxiety and depression, partially caused by ballet, but also by events at my home. My freshman year of high school, I finally got enough courage to quit, quit the one thing I thought would be my forever, but I honestly felt no regrets. The only thing was, I had no idea what I was going to do with my life from then on. My whole life before then, from 2nd grade until 8th grade, was a routine schedule that I never got breaks from. I went to school, then ballet, then went home and went to sleep. School, ballet, home, sleep, school, ballet, home, sleep, school, ballet, home, sleep. I didn't know anything different. I no longer had that, but was left with severe mental illnesses that I needed to be medicated for in order to control. But not even the medication was enough for people to realize that this was something serious. As soon as I quit ballet, I was immediately put into another GT high school, Carnegie Vanguard HS, and also onto the volleyball and cheer team. My parents did this so I wouldn't get "lazy", but all I needed was a break. A break from the constant pressures of the high expectations everyone had for me. But I never got one. I started to lose friends because I couldn't pretend to be all happy go lucky anymore. I no longer had motivation to do a single thing. The only thing I do now, is help other people who are experiencing the same thing as me, but it is hard, seeing as how I am still a teenager going through it myself. I still don't have people who care enough to help me. But I'm trying.

All my life, I have been surrounded by the arts. I started dancing at the age of 2, I would go bird watching and take pictures of all the wildlife, plants included, by the age of 10, and I started crafting and painting by the age of 12. Those were things I found helped me pass the time, or to take my mind off of anything going on at home. They were my comforts, things that would never abandon me, or disappear, unless I wanted them to be gone. Originally, my goal in life, from the age of 2 all the way until the age of 14, was to be a professional ballerina. However, those dreams quickly diminished after I realized how cutthroat that industry was. It got to a point where I was so stressed about going to ballet, that I would start to vomit anytime class was about to start. My parents and teachers thought there was something medically wrong, so I went to countless doctors appointments, got countless blood test, but nothing was coming up. It wasn't until a couple years later when I went to a therapist, that I realized it was my subconscious self forcing me to vomit so I wouldn't have to put myself through doing the one thing I used to love so much. I got diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression because of it, and that's something I am still struggling with years later. Ballet became something I dreaded, something I feared. I couldn't take all the pressure at such a young age. I couldn't. So, for a good while, I didn't know what I was going to do after college. People would ask my plans and I would get so distraught, because I didn't have any anymore. It was hard enough to focus on whether or not I was going to get out of bed that day, I couldn't handle thinking about something years in the future. It wasn't until I came to a realization of where I wanted to be when I was older, that I realized what I wanted to do as well. In December of 2019, my family took a trip to Colorado, and I was immediately struck by its beauty. The view from the summit of the mountains was almost magical, the way the snow was sparkling in the sunlight, and how the village looked straight out of a Christmas movie, surrounded by all those snowcapped mountains. I fell in love. I knew right then and there that I had to live in a place as beautiful as this, a place where I could look out of my window and immediately see inspiration for countless paintings without any hesitation. That also lead me to realize what I wanted to do when I got to that place of beauty, or more of what I wanted to start. I was a fairly good painter all my life, and I could make crafts and small little trinkets for days on end without any break, just because it was fun. In high school, I started to hone my craft, perfect the little things that would make a piece stand out in the crowd. Now, I am no where near absolute perfection, but everyday I work towards it more and more. I want to start a small business where I create art pieces to sell to people that need them most. I want there to be a wide range of choices, from blankets to portraits to stuffed animals to jewelry, I want to sell them all. I make the most art when I need something to do with my hands because my anxiety is getting the best of me, so the pieces I create are beautiful interpretations of an ailing mind. They are direct reflections of how my brain works when I am having an anxiety attack, creating something different than other pieces I have seen out in the world. My hope is that through these weird and different pieces, people will realize that their mind is not so strange that someone will never be able to understand, because there will always be someone out there who will. I hope my pieces bring comfort to those in need of it, when their own minds are getting the best of them, when their own thoughts are too overwhelming to see clearly. People of all backgrounds use art as a means of escape, of comfort, and I just want my artwork to be that for them.

My mom was a UCA All-American cheerleader in highschool, so when I made JV at my school, my goal was to be an All-American cheerleader just like her. The only problem was, this was my first year actually being a real cheerleader (my old school only had a club). After I made the team, I trained all summer until it was time for my team to go to UCA cheer camp. This picture is me and my team performing at the camp, and shortly after, it was announced that I had been selected to be on the UCA All-American team!