When I think of the performance by Taylor Swift that has moved me the most, it isn’t just about the lights, the stage, or the crowd. It’s about how, during the darkest chapter of my life, her music was the only thing that kept me from completely disappearing. The moment she played “Ours” as a surprise song on my birthday became more than just a performance, it was a lifeline. My teenage years haven’t looked the way I thought they would. After the pandemic, I became sick with a condition that left me fainting, allergic to almost everything, and unable to stand or walk without dizziness and extreme pain overwhelming me. For years, I was bedridden. The life I had imagined for myself, singing, dancing, performing, even just being with my friends, was suddenly out of reach. At eighteen, when most people are looking ahead to their futures, I was staring at a wall, convinced I no longer had one. In that silence, Taylor’s music became my only companion. Her songs were the thread that kept me tethered to the world outside of my bed. They gave me something to look forward to when I had nothing left: a new album release, a live performance to watch online, the hope of a concert someday. Taylor did what doctors couldn’t, she gave me hope when my own body betrayed me. She reminded me that even when everything else was out of my control, I still had a reason to hold on. That’s why the night she sang “Ours” meant so much. That song had always been my anchor during the hardest days. I used to play it on repeat, letting her voice remind me that love and light can survive even in the worst circumstances. And then, as if by fate, she sang it live on my birthday, the exact day I needed it most. It felt like the universe reminding me that I wasn’t forgotten, that my story still mattered. In that moment, I didn’t feel like the sick girl trapped in her room. I felt seen, loved, and alive. Taylor’s resilience as a performer has shown me that even when the world throws stones, you can still shine. That lyric, “people throw rocks at things that shine” is so personal to me that I want it tattooed. Because even now, when I wake up dizzy and in pain, those words remind me that I can still shine. That performance changed the way I see myself. I may never return to the stage the way I once dreamed, but Taylor taught me that ambition can be redefined. I can still make an impact by giving others the same thing she gave me: hope. If she can keep creating through everything she’s faced, then I can keep going too. For me, “Ours” wasn’t just a song on my birthday, it was the proof I needed that I could survive my worst days. Taylor Swift didn’t just sing to a crowd that night; she sang me back to life.

For as long as I can remember, athletics have been central to who I am. I played varsity and club lacrosse for seven years, dedicating myself to long practices, team leadership, and the discipline it takes to balance sports with academics. Lacrosse wasn’t just a game to me, it was my outlet, my passion, and my community. Through it, I learned how to push myself beyond what I thought possible, how to be both a leader and a teammate, and how to find joy in movement. That chapter of my life changed dramatically when I became disabled. The physical limitations I now face mean I cannot compete or live in the same way I once did. Transitioning from an athlete who could run drills for hours to someone who has to carefully plan even simple daily activities has been one of the hardest challenges I have ever faced. Yet, with that loss came a new perspective. I now understand, in a deeply personal way, how important it is for everyone to be able to navigate the world and access opportunities to pursue what they love. Sports taught me resilience, and disability taught me empathy. Together, those lessons have shaped my passion: creating a more accessible world. I want to ensure that others (whether athletes, students, professionals, or community members) can move through public spaces safely and with dignity. Accessibility is more than ramps and elevators. Accessibility is the chance for someone to get to school, to attend practice, to show up for a job interview, or to enjoy a day at the park with friends. It is the foundation that allows people to thrive, no matter their physical circumstances. This passion has already guided my path. As an undergraduate engineering student, I focus on how design can break down barriers rather than create them. I created Students for Disability Awareness and Support (SDAS), where I work with others to advocate for inclusive spaces on campus and beyond. I recently completed an internship with the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) team at an engineering firm, where I helped examine how transition plans can make cities and towns more welcoming for everyone. Each of these experiences reinforced my belief that accessibility is not optional, it is essential. Looking ahead, I aspire to build a career as a civil and architectural engineer specializing in universal design. My goal is to help create communities where access is not an afterthought, but a guiding principle. I want children to grow up in neighborhoods where sidewalks are wide enough for wheelchairs and strollers, where fields and courts are adapted so athletes of all abilities can compete, and where no one is excluded because a door, curb, or staircase stands in the way. The journey from varsity athlete to disability advocate has not been easy, but it has been transformative. I am no longer only driven by the love of lacrosse. I am driven by the belief that everyone deserves the opportunity to pursue their passions without being held back by physical barriers. Like Sloane Stephens and her foundation, I believe in the power of resilience, kindness, and self-belief. Those values now guide me forward, and I am committed to using them to make a lasting impact on my community.

To me, resilience is not about bouncing back, it’s about pushing forward, even when everything inside you is screaming to stop. It’s waking up with your heart racing from POTS, head spinning from vestibular migraines, and still choosing to show up. It’s constantly managing MCAS, a condition that turns everyday foods, environments, and even emotions into allergens. It’s balancing medications that keep me alive but are slowly decaying my teeth. Resilience is living in a body that feels like it’s trying to sabotage me and still saying, “I have work to do.” I didn’t ask for this body, but I’ve chosen to use it as fuel for change. Living with a chronic illness has shown me how inaccessible the world really is. I use crutches every day, and I constantly run into sidewalks without curb ramps, ramps that are too steep, or doors I can’t open without help. I’ve experienced the pain of being excluded by design, of realizing that public spaces, transportation, and technology were never built with people like me in mind. That’s why I’m studying Civil Engineering, pursuing my PE license, and working toward my license as an ADA Coordinator. I want to design a world that sees and serves everyone. This isn’t just a dream, it’s already real. I currently serve as an ADA associate intern, where I work on transition plans and validate data from curb ramps, curb cuts, bus stops, and signals. I’ve contributed to accessible web content and studied how infrastructure can empower or exclude people with disabilities. I’ve seen my work ripple outward into people’s lives, and that impact has cemented my commitment to advocacy through engineering. I also lead a campus organization called Students for Disability Awareness and Support (SDAS), where I advocate for accessibility, organize inclusive events, and support students who often feel unseen. My body may be fragile, but my voice is strong, and I use it to lift others. There are days when my vision blurs, when every step feels like I’m walking through molasses, when my body is in open rebellion. I live in constant pain, deep, gnawing, and invisible. My joints ache, my heart races, my muscles tremble under the weight of just existing. Some days, even breathing feels like effort. Yet, from the outside, most of it goes unseen. No one sees the migraines behind my eyes or the allergic reactions triggered by a shift in weather or stress. But I still go to class. I still show up to meetings. I still submit assignments. Not because I’m superhuman, but because I believe in the future I’m building, for myself and others like me. Resilience, to me, is refusing to be defined by what hurts. It’s choosing to fight, not just for your own survival, but for a more accessible, compassionate world. This scholarship would not just support me, it would empower me to keep showing up, keep building, and keep believing this pain has a purpose. I’m not just surviving, I’m shaping the future.

Civil Engineering is more than a profession to me, it’s a way to create spaces that serve people with dignity and purpose. As someone with a disability, I’ve experienced firsthand how poor design can exclude people. That’s why I’ve committed myself to ensuring accessibility isn’t treated as an afterthought, but as a core principle in every phase of civil engineering. Through my internship with Cole & Associates, I’ve worked on data validation for accessibility features like curb ramps, curb cuts, pedestrian signals, and bus stops. I’ve contributed to ADA transition planning by studying how cities assess and improve compliance with accessibility standards. This work taught me how data and design come together to shape environments that work for everyone, not just the average user. I’ve also explored digital accessibility, reviewing web content through the lens of universal design. While civil engineering is traditionally focused on the physical world, true accessibility requires a multidisciplinary perspective. On campus, I lead the Students for Disability Awareness and Support (SDAS) club, where I work closely with students and administrators to identify access barriers and advocate for change. Whether we’re reviewing campus infrastructure or educating on accessible engineering practices, I bring the lens of a future engineer: focused on evidence, equity, and implementation. I am currently working toward my Civil Engineering degree and certification as an ADA Coordinator. My goal is to specialize in municipal and site development work, helping cities and institutions design buildings, sidewalks, parks, and public spaces that prioritize accessibility from the beginning, not just as a compliance issue, but as a commitment to community. I want to be the kind of engineer who ensures no one is left behind simply because of how a ramp is angled or a crossing signal is timed. Christine Wilson’s dedication to mentorship and thoughtful design reflects the kind of engineer I aspire to be. I want to carry that legacy forward by continuing to learn, lead, and mentor others, especially those whose voices are often missing in conversations about infrastructure and access. Civil engineering has the power to open doors, and I intend to build them… wide enough for everyone.

My name is Lillian Fluhr, and I am a sophomore attending Missouri University of Science and Technology, majoring in Civil Engineering and Structural Engineering. My journey has been shaped significantly by a life-changing event during high school when I became disabled. This experience has not only impacted my daily life but also drastically influenced my future career goals. From a young age, I was drawn to engineering. I was fascinated by how things are built and how structures stand tall and strong. However, after becoming disabled, I began to see the world through a different lens. I started to notice how many buildings and public spaces are not accessible to everyone. I became unable to access many buildings that were supposed to be for public use. This realization instilled in me a new purpose: to focus on accessible engineering. My disability has given me a unique perspective on the importance of designing structures that are inclusive and accessible to all individuals, regardless of their physical abilities. I want to ensure that buildings, bridges, and other structures are not just strong and beautiful, but also usable by everyone. This has become my passion and my driving force. The Dwight "The Professor" Baldwin Scholarship would be a tremendous help in achieving my goals. Financial support would allow me to focus more on my studies and less on the burden of tuition and other expenses. It would give me the freedom to participate in projects and internships that are crucial for gaining practical experience in my field. Additionally, it would enable me to attend conferences and workshops where I can learn from experts and stay updated on the latest advancements in accessible engineering. As a rising college sophomore, I am committed to using my education and experiences to make a positive impact. I am eager to learn more about how to design and construct buildings that accommodate everyone, including those with disabilities. I believe that with the right knowledge and tools, I can contribute to creating a more inclusive world. In conclusion, my disability has shaped my career goals in profound ways. It has opened my eyes to the challenges faced by individuals with disabilities and has inspired me to become an engineer who prioritizes accessibility. The Dwight "The Professor" Baldwin Scholarship would not only support my education financially but also empower me to pursue my passion for accessible engineering. Thank you for considering my application.

Dizziness. The word that has encompassed all I’ve known for the last year – an 18-month hurricane of doctors, therapists, rehabilitation, and struggle. Nevertheless, in the middle of the storm, I learned lessons that will forever affect how I approach life. After months of my world being turned literally and figuratively upside down, I was finally diagnosed by a specialist yet still undergo more tests. I had to learn a new way to experience this life when I wasn’t sure of my place in it anyway. I grew up very independent in a home with three older brothers. My symptoms made me highly dependent on others. It took everything away from me: my participation in my passions and hobbies, my connection to my friends and family, my ability to read, and my independence. The life I’ve always known. I was bedridden for months and wasn’t able to participate in the activities that I thought made me who I am. The qualities I always admired in myself suddenly disappeared. What I didn’t expect during the height of my pain and confusion, was what I thought I was going to miss the most, in actuality, wasn’t. Prior to this, I had always evaluated my self-worth and importance on my performance in school and other competitive activities. Throughout my early high school career, I knew I was passionate about helping others, but I didn’t realize to what extent. With the constant dizziness, pain, and loss of independence, I was no longer able to do many of the activities that I took for granted. Helping tutor other students on their difficult subjects, volunteering with NHS, working as a camp counselor with Girl Scouts, teaching and directing youth theater, and helping to build confidence in others, were all off the table. When I wasn’t able to do these things, I realized how much they really meant to me. I realized how much helping others actually helped me. Teaching and helping others to build their self-confidence actually made me more secure and confident. In a weird way, being dependent so much of the time on the help of others actually made me more sure of myself and more confident in speaking up for my needs. It has also helped me to become more compassionate and increased my passion for helping others. The lessons I learned from my health, and recovery, have helped build and shape my values. Like the fallout of a hurricane, when one’s community comes together to help those in need, my chronic health problems have brought out my passion for helping those in need and taught me to be that community for others. This has forever changed my life and values. I will always go through life needing help now, but also, I will go through life always striving to help others. Through my future work as an engineer, I want to strive to make communities more accessible for everyone. I refuse to let my disability hold me back. I also refuse to stand by and watch as others’ health holds them back as well. One day I hope to inspire others with chronic medical conditions and help show that disability doesn’t mean any less worthy. I would not be where I am today without my health inspiration, and my biggest dream is that one day I’ll be able to give that strength to someone else. I can’t wait to build a better world for all of us, because we all deserve accessibility, acceptance, and love.

I have played lacrosse since I was in sixth grade. Going through high school, I had many injuries that stopped my participation. From knee surgery, covid, and my junior year developing pots, my lacrosse journey hasn't been the most "ideal." Although my disorder took me out of my starting varsity position in junior year, I didn't let that keep me down. I still showed up every single day and assumed the role of team manager, aiding my teammates in whatever way I can. I am no longer able to be a field player because I can not run with my condition, so this year I began training as a goalie and am now my team's first-string varsity goalie. I have never let my health get in the way of my goals, passions, and what is important to me. I have always been committed to my team and helping others. Now in addition to being a goalie, I still serve as team manager. I help my teammates wherever I can, setting up the field for games, and training defenders and our new emerging goalies. Our lacrosse team took a hit this year when many girls graduated, and I am proud to help train and grow the new generation of lacrosse players at my school. Off the field, I am an A+ student with a 4.4 GPA and a 34 on my ACT. I am part of the National Honor Society and am committed to volunteer work. Every summer I work with the Girl Scouts of Eastern Missouri to aid at camps to increase confidence in young girls. At school, I am an officer of our Thespian Society and am involved in our productions. I work hard in everything I do to keep up my grades and succeed. I am proud to leave my school this year with a legacy that I helped to create. Through lacrosse, I have learned that my new disability will never keep me down. I hope to share my story with other young athletes that may go through trying health. When you're determined, you are still able to do the activities you want to, even if it seems the world is fighting against you. You may have to work harder than your peers to succeed, but it will be even more worth it in the end. My greatest accomplishment in my health was when I landed the varsity goalie position. Previously I had no hope and thought I was never going to be able to do anything physical for the rest of my life. Now, I know hard work does pay off. My disability will never hold me back, it gives me a reason to try harder. I am so thankful to lacrosse, my team, coaches, and opponents for helping to teach me that lesson.

The dream version of my future self is someone who is proud of my disability and helps inspire others.

My favorite song on Taylor Swift’s ‘1989’ album is “Clean.” This song is my favorite for multiple reasons. The entire album has had a big impact on my life. For my tenth birthday, I was gifted tickets to her 1989 World Tour. This was the first concert I ever attended. I didn’t realize how powerful music could be until I was surrounded by thousands of people who loved Taylor Swift as much as I do. Hearing “Clean” live was enchanting for young me. The speech she gave before the song is something I will never forget. It was all about how when you go through hard times and you feel covered in your mistakes, you can get out of that time. You can change the way you move through life and get through all of your hard times. This idea implanted its way in my mind and I used it to guide me as I grew up. The song reminds me that my mistakes don’t define me and I am always changing. This song helped shape my values and habits that I still possess today. My high school experience has been very difficult. My first two years were all consumed by Covid. I spent those years at home, isolated from everything. During those years I leaned heavily of my love of Taylor Swift. She filled my days, and I could always find the perfect song to match any emotion. When I listed to “Clean,” it reminded me that I could get through isolation. Not only would I get through it, but I would come out stronger. My second two years of high school have been even more difficult. Right as my life was getting back to normal, I began to develop a disability. I have constant dizziness, fatigue, fainting spells, and more. For the past two years, my life has been full of doctors appointments and tests to figure out what’s wrong. My current diagnoses is PPPD, POTS, and migraines but more tests to come for certainty. Throughout this journey, I have spent months being bedridden at a time, unable to walk or have the mental clarity to do much of anything. The one thing I could do that wouldn’t make my dizziness worse was listen to music. Once again in my hard times, I turned to Taylor Swift. The messages I learned from “Clean” reminded me that I could get through my situation, even when my mind was flooded with doubt. My disorder took everything from my life, and for several months, my only connection outside of my family was Taylor’s music. While going through my high school struggles, I’ve also had to deal with the normal teenage trying times. Loosing people important to me, fights, drama, and class stress, only made my sickness worse. But because of the lessons from “Clean” and various other Taylor Swift songs, I know I can get through this. I know my experiences are only going to make me a stronger person, and I will be Clean. Now, eight years later, I have been gifted Taylor Swift tickets for graduation. I may not know what life will ever have in store for me, but I know I will overcome every obstacle. I will always be thankful to Taylor Swift for giving me that lesson at a young age.