I have a hard time remembering things from my childhood. What I do remember is movies. I remember going to the theater and being mesmerized by how moviemakers tell stories through colors, angles, words, touch, expressions, and music. I loved watching stories of human connection unfold. I even remember the first scene in a movie that made me cry. However, I was never able to relate to these movies in the same way as my peers. For example, I didn’t understand the connection young girls had to Disney princesses. All my friends wanted to play princesses. They talked about how they wanted to be like them, act like them, and fall in love like them. I went along with it because that was all I knew. But their stories were never made for girls like me. And the older I got the less space there seemed to be in stories for me to project a vision for my future onto them. Because of that, I felt so disconnected from myself as a child. There was something hidden deeply in me. A missing piece locked in a cage and pushed far far down. It's an experience I didn't know I had until I found the vocabulary to identify it. When I did identify it in the aftermath, it put me in a state of dissociation since I didn't know that I was forcibly inserting myself into stories that didn’t fit me. It took me almost two decades to realize I am a Lesbian. I grew up in a small conservative Christian midwestern town and was never exposed to anything gay. Heterosexuality was more than the norm. It was implicit in all the spaces I inhabited and was expected of me the second I came out of the womb. It's interesting because I only have fragments of memories leading up to my sophomore year of high school when I started exploring my sexuality. From there on out my memories are very clear. This is also the year I also started seeking out queer films. Through these films, I finally saw characters that I wanted to look like, act like, and love like. I finally saw a vision for my future. When stories like mine are never at the center and people like me are never the protagonists, it implies that my story isn’t worth telling and people like me should stay confined to the limited space they're given. These films permitted me to be the main character. Now, reflecting on my journey, it makes me sad knowing I and many other kids had to go searching for these answers. Though queer films do exist, on the vast stage that is the film industry they only have a small part of it. That's why my dream is to take my experiences, passion, and love for the queer community and turn it into moving pictures. These scholarships will not only help me with my degree in film but also allow me to contribute to the work of expanding the stage for queer stories.

I have a hard time remembering things from my childhood. What I do remember is movies. I remember going to the theater and being mesmerized by how moviemakers tell stories through colors, angles, words, touch, expressions, and music. I loved watching stories of human connection unfold. I even remember the first scene in a movie that made me cry. However, I was never able to relate to these movies in the same way as my peers. For example, I didn’t understand the connection young girls had to Disney princesses. All my friends wanted to play princesses. They talked about how they wanted to be like them, act like them, and fall in love like them. But, I could never see myself in these tales. And the older I got the less space there seemed to be in stories for me to project a vision for my future onto them. Because of that, I felt so disconnected from myself as a child. There was something hidden deeply in me. A missing piece locked in a cage and pushed far far down. It's an experience I didn't know I had until I found the vocabulary to identify it. When I did identify it in the aftermath, it put me in a state of dissociation since I didn't know that I was forcibly inserting myself into stories that didn’t fit me. It took me almost two decades to realize I am a Lesbian. I grew up in a small conservative Christian midwestern town and was never exposed to anything gay. Heterosexuality was more than the norm. It was implicit in all the spaces I inhabited and was expected of me the second I came out of the womb. It's interesting because I only have fragments of memories leading up to my sophomore year of high school when I started exploring my sexuality. From there on out my memories are very clear. This is also the year I also started seeking out queer films. Through these films, I finally saw characters that I wanted to look like, act like, and love like. I finally saw a vision for my future. When stories like mine are never at the center and people like me are never the protagonists, it implies that my story isn’t worth telling and people like me should stay confined to the limited space they're given. These films permitted me to be the main character. Now, reflecting on my journey, it makes me sad knowing I and many other kids had to go searching for these answers. Though queer films do exist, on the vast stage that is the film industry they only have a small part of it. That's why my dream is to take my experiences, passion, and love for the queer community and turn it into moving pictures. This scholarship will not only help me with my degree in film but also allow me to contribute to the work of expanding the stage for queer stories.

#BookTok has had a profound impact on my life. As a Lesbian, I found it challenging to access queer literature. These stories are already so limited. The ones that do exist get shoved in between the comics, cook books, romances, and murder mysterys. Almost impossible to spot. I didn't have a community to go to and ask for recommendations. I kept searching and searching but kept finding almost nothing. Until a year ago, when I discovered #BookTok. I found a whole community of queer people who were reading, recommending, and having discussions about queer books. I found myself not only finding great books to read, but also making friends and connections. I truly felt seen and that I was a part of something. In my little pocket of #BookTok, I have collected enough book recommendations to fill a library! Some of my ideal books consist of: The Stonewall Reader edited by The New York Public Library, Giovianni's Room by James Baldwin, Untamed by Glennon Doyle, We Are Everywhere by Matthew Riener and Leighton Brown, and Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo. All of books are must-haves as they contribute to the importance of normalizing gay stories. However, there are a few books in particular that stick out to me. The Color Purple by Alice Walker is one of them. The Color Purple addresses what it is like to be a black, queer woman living in the South during the early 20th century. With the presence of the book on #BookTok, I have seen many conversations about the importance of acknowledging queer representation in every minority group. Another lesser-known book that impacted me and the #BookTok community is Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg. Stone Butch Blues follows a Lesbian, Jess Goldberg, through the early 50s up until the AIDS epidemic in the 80s. The book talks about many themes including, gender identity, police brutality, and homophobia. The impact this book has had on the #BookTok community is extremely beautiful. I've seen videos of people in literal tears talking about how seen this book made them feel. Videos of people sharing that this book has given them the courage to transition or come out to their families. Some people didn't have a personal connection, but said that the book gave them a better understanding of the queer experience. What I find to be the biggest example of the great impact that Stone Butch Blues has had on #BookTok, is that after reading the book, countless people decided to make accounts dedicated to finding and sharing other historical queer books! As you can see, #BookTok has given me, and many other queer folks, a platform access stories for and about us. Futhermore, it has given us the education and vocabulary to support ourselves and others in the community. #BookTok has made me realize that I am not alone and that my experiences are worth talking about.