Being a member of an underrepresented minority has profoundly shaped my identity, my experiences, and my aspirations. As a first-generation immigrant from Hong Kong, I have navigated life in the United States without the guidance or connections many peers take for granted. My family arrived seeking the American Dream, but the path was never easy. My parents worked long hours and spoke little English, and from a young age, I became their bridge to the world—translating documents, attending appointments, and helping my younger brother navigate daily life. This responsibility gave me purpose but also made me acutely aware of the challenges faced by families like mine, whose voices and experiences are often overlooked. Growing up in a traditional Chinese household, support rarely came in the form of praise. Encouragement was framed as high expectations, and yet I learned to find motivation within myself. My identity as a minority meant that I had to negotiate multiple worlds simultaneously: the expectations of my family, the cultural norms of my heritage, and the demands of an educational system that did not always reflect or understand my experiences. These challenges instilled resilience, self-reliance, and a deep sense of empathy. They also showed me the value of advocacy, not only for myself but for others who might struggle to navigate the system. The sudden loss of my father when I was fifteen intensified this reality. Overnight, I became the head of my household, managing responsibilities that included caring for my brother, supporting my mother, and handling financial and legal matters. This experience reinforced the ways in which being from an underrepresented minority shapes both the obstacles and the strengths we carry. I learned leadership, problem-solving, and the importance of perseverance in ways that go far beyond the classroom. Looking forward, my identity continues to inform my goals and aspirations. I am pursuing a degree in Business Management because I want to use my education to create opportunities and support for others who face systemic barriers. I hope to mentor and empower individuals from underrepresented communities, drawing from my own experiences to guide them through challenges that may feel insurmountable. My perspective allows me to recognize gaps in access and representation, and it motivates me to work toward solutions that are inclusive and equitable. Being a member of an underrepresented minority has shaped my past, informs my present, and drives my future. It has given me resilience, empathy, and a commitment to lift others as I rise. I intend to use my education and experiences to make a meaningful impact, not only in my professional life but in the communities and systems where representation and opportunity are most needed.

I was born in Hong Kong and brought to America by my family in pursuit of the American Dream. I grew up in a traditional Chinese household with my parents and younger brother. From a young age, I became the person my family relied on, translating appointments, reading important documents, and helping my parents navigate everyday life. My parents spoke little English, so I quickly learned responsibility far beyond my years. Two weeks into my sophomore year of high school, just after my fifteenth birthday, my father died suddenly of cardiac arrest. Overnight, I became the head of the household. My mother fell into depression and refused to work, leaving me to care for my eight-year-old brother, manage bills, and handle the paperwork that followed my father’s passing. At sixteen, I began working part-time to support my family while continuing to attend school. I earned scholarships to attend college, but financial pressures forced me to pause my education to continue providing for my family. These challenges taught me resilience, patience, and leadership. I learned to adapt quickly, problem-solve under pressure, and prioritize the needs of others. I have also learned the importance of mentorship and guidance, both through helping my brother and supporting coworkers in my job. I realized that making a difference often starts with small acts of support and care, even in difficult circumstances. Now, after years of responsibility and sacrifice, I am ready to return to school. I plan to study Business Management because I thrive when helping others grow. My goal is to use my education to mentor and guide young immigrants and first-generation students facing challenges similar to mine. I want to create opportunities for others and inspire them to persevere through obstacles, just as I have. My journey has been unconventional, but it has shaped me into someone empathetic, determined, and committed to making a difference. I hope to use my education to build programs and initiatives that support families and students navigating adversity. By sharing the lessons I have learned and helping others succeed, I aim to turn my experiences into positive change and make a meaningful impact in the world.

Faith has always meant more to me than religion. For me, faith is believing in something greater than myself when everything around me feels impossible. It is the quiet strength that pushes me to keep going when giving up would be easier. I learned the true meaning of faith when I was fifteen. Two weeks into my sophomore year of high school, just after my birthday, my father died suddenly of cardiac arrest. Before that night, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. I had chosen my high school for its medical program and often imagined myself saving lives. But as I hovered over my father’s body, performing CPR with a 911 operator’s voice in my ear, that dream ended. After his passing, my family’s world fell apart. My mother sank into depression and refused to get out of bed or look for work. My younger brother was only eight, and he depended entirely on me. Overnight, I became the head of the household. I paid bills, handled paperwork, and tried to keep our lives together while keeping up with school. At sixteen, I began working part-time jobs to support us. There were nights when I felt completely alone. I would sit in the dark after putting my brother to bed, wondering how I could possibly keep going. We had no extended family nearby, no money, and no safety net. All I had was faith, the belief that if I didn’t give up, somehow things would get better. I prayed often, not for life to be easier, but for strength and clarity. I found comfort in the idea that every hardship had a purpose, even if I couldn’t see it yet. My faith taught me to see obstacles as lessons, not punishments, and that mindset helped me survive. Eventually, I saved enough to attend college with the help of scholarships. But financial pressures forced me to pause my education to continue supporting my family. Even then, I held onto my faith. I told myself that my path might not be traditional, but it was still leading me somewhere meaningful. Now, after years of working and providing for my family, I’m finally ready to return to school. I plan to study Business Management because I’ve discovered that I thrive when helping others grow. My faith has shown me that leadership is not about control; it is about service, compassion, and perseverance. Faith carried me through the hardest chapters of my life. It reminded me that loss does not define me, but how I respond to it does. Every challenge I have faced has strengthened my belief in myself and in something greater guiding me forward.

Being a first-generation student means carrying both the weight of my family’s sacrifices and the hope of their dreams. I was born in Hong Kong and brought to America by my parents in pursuit of the American Dream. Like many immigrant families, our story was one of hard work and quiet endurance. My parents spoke little English, so from a young age, I became their bridge to the world, translating medical appointments, reading important documents, and helping them navigate everyday life. They couldn’t do anything without me. The pressure to excel in school while caring for my younger brother was constant. In our traditional Chinese household, encouragement rarely came in the form of hugs or praise. The closest I heard was, “That wasn’t bad, but you can do better.” Still, I was happy because I had a purpose: to create a better future for all of us. That sense of purpose was shaken two weeks into my sophomore year of high school, just after my fifteenth birthday, when my father died suddenly of cardiac arrest. Before that night, I dreamed of becoming a doctor. I had chosen my high school for its medical program and often imagined myself saving lives. But as I hovered over my father’s body, performing CPR with a 911 operator’s voice in my ear, that dream ended. After his death, my mother fell into depression and became emotionally unstable. She refused to get out of bed or look for a job, even though we had lost our only source of income. I became the head of the household, raising my brother, managing bills, and handling the paperwork that followed my father’s passing. At sixteen, I worked while attending school, doing everything I could to keep us afloat. I eventually saved enough to attend college, but financial pressures forced me to pause my education to continue supporting my family. Despite these setbacks, I never lost sight of my goals. I’ve learned to adapt, to lead, and to keep going when life feels impossible. Being first-generation means learning how to build something from nothing, without a roadmap, but with resilience and faith that the effort will pay off. Now, after years of working and providing for my family, I’m finally ready to return to school. I plan to study Business Management because I’ve discovered that I thrive when helping others grow. I enjoy mentoring, guiding, and watching people succeed, and I hope to use my education to inspire and support other young immigrants and first-generation students navigating challenges like mine. This scholarship would help me finish what I started. It would allow me to focus fully on my education and move closer to the future I’ve worked toward for so long. Every obstacle I’ve faced has shaped me into someone stronger, more determined, and deeply empathetic. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and with this opportunity, I’m ready to continue my journey forward.

I was born in Hong Kong and brought to America by my family in pursuit of the American Dream. Like many immigrant families, our story was one of hard work and quiet sacrifice. My parents worked long hours and spoke little English. From a young age, I became someone my family leaned on, from translating medical appointments to reading important documents to even just helping my parents live their everyday lives. They couldn't do anything without me. The pressure to succeed in school while caring for my younger brother was constant. In our traditional Chinese household, support didn’t come in the form of hugs or praise. The closest I received to encouragement was, “That wasn’t bad, but I’m sure you can do better.” Despite the pressure and lack of emotional support, I was happy. I had dreams, and I had my brother, whom I could shield from all the responsibility, and that gave me purpose. I believed if I worked hard enough, things would fall into place. Two weeks into my sophomore year of high school, just a week after I turned 15, my father died suddenly from cardiac arrest. Before that night, I wanted to be a doctor. I had chosen my high school for its medical programs and often imagined myself saving lives like the doctors I saw on TV. That dream ended as I hovered over my father’s body, frozen, while the 911 operator gave me CPR instructions. My mom panicked beside me, unable to help, not only due to the language barrier, but because she just completely shut down, all while my eight year old brother cried in the background. I was the only one who could act. After a few surreal moments, I started chest compressions. It felt like an eternity before the ambulance arrived, but unfortunately, despite all my efforts, my father died on the way to the hospital. After his passing, I became the head of the household. My mother began disappearing for days at a time and refused to get a job. I juggled school, raised my brother, and managed the paperwork from my father’s death. I even tried to run his business, hoping to maintain an income, but eventually had to sell it when I realized I was in over my head. At 16, I got a job to support my family and eventually saved enough to pay for college with the help of scholarships. But with my mother still unwilling to work and my brother depending on me, after a year of college, I had no choice but to put school on hold and continue supporting them. Now, after years of responsibility and sacrifice, I’m finally in a place where I can return to school. I never lost sight of that goal. I’ve chosen to study Business Management because I’ve discovered that I thrive when helping others grow. I enjoy mentoring, guiding, and watching people succeed, and I know how to lead through adversity. I’ve learned more through experience than I ever could in a classroom alone. I’ve learned how to survive, how to problem solve, and how to keep going when it feels impossible. Most importantly, I’ve learned that while I may not have taken the traditional path, every obstacle I’ve faced has shaped me into someone stronger, more determined, and more empathetic. I’m ready to start the next chapter of my journey. I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I’m even more excited for what’s ahead.

I was the top sales associate for five years in a row in one of the most competitive sales environments, and in that time, I learned that sales is so much more than buying and selling. Sales is an art form. It's a beautiful symphony of emotion, timing, and skill. Every pause, every objection, every moment of hesitation from a client isn't a setback; it's an opportunity. The sale doesn’t end until the sales associate decides it has ended, and I thrived in that challenge. If you had asked me five years ago whether I could ever love sales, I would have laughed. I didn’t know the first thing about it. I still remember my first day at my commission-based sales job: I was overwhelmed, intimidated, and completely out of my depth. I watched my colleagues connect with clients so effortlessly, and I felt lost. I didn’t close a single sale that day. But I’m a competitive person by nature, and standing back wasn't an option. I started shadowing the top performer on the floor, watching, learning, absorbing everything I could. It took months, but I began to see what selling was truly about. Sales isn't about the product. It's about the emotion behind the purchase. People don’t buy things, they buy futures, feelings, identities. I wasn’t just selling a product. I was selling how people wanted to feel about themselves. I was helping them envision how others would see them once they owned something. I was painting a picture of their better selves. Once I understood this, I could sell almost anything, because I wasn’t just selling things, I was selling meaning. That understanding changed everything. Over time, I didn’t just improve, I excelled. I started to lead training for other associates who are struggling to close sales. I led the floor in sales year after year, not just because I worked hard, but because I had grown to understand the craft. I respected it. I studied it like a discipline. And every interaction with a client felt like a chance to refine it further. Now, I find myself seeking a new challenge. Although I didn’t finish college, something I’ve always regretted, I don’t pity the path I took. That decision led me to discover my passion for sales, and it gave me the relentless drive that defines me today. I’ve built my career by learning through doing, by turning setbacks into lessons, and by treating every challenge as an opportunity for growth. I am ready to take everything I’ve learned and apply it on a larger scale, to influence more people, lead with impact, and embrace the thrill of selling once again.