I have always understood that finding my place in the world would require more than discipline or ambition. It would require navigating spaces that were not built with women like me in mind, an immigrant, a first-generation, walking alone in a foreign country, and trying to build a life from the ground up. I came to the United States without family, without financial support, and without a safety net. Even though my tuition is covered, every other responsibility, rent, food, medication, and transportation, falls entirely on me. Some months, I don’t know how I will make it. Other months, I rely on a community food pantry to have enough to eat. And yet, even in these moments of instability, I keep moving because the purpose that brought me here is stronger than the uncertainty around me. My academic path is deeply tied to the lives of women who live at the margins of protection, women who are silenced, exploited, or dismissed, not because they lack strength, but because the systems around them refuse to see them. I study Criminal Justice and History with a focus on human rights because I want to work in the spaces where women’s lives often go unnoticed: gender-based violence, child protection, human trafficking, and exploitation. These are not abstract interests to me. I grew up watching women in my family navigate hardship quietly, carrying burdens they were taught to hide. My move to the U.S. made me even more aware of how vulnerable immigrant women can be when they are isolated, misunderstood, or unsupported. Being here on my own has given me a perspective I could never gain in a classroom. I know what it is like to be unheard, to feel misplaced, to face institutions that treat you as if you were asking for too much by simply needing stability. I know what it is like to choose between buying medication or paying rent. This lived experience does not make me weaker; it has made me more attentive to the struggles that other women carry in silence. My career goal is to transform that awareness into action. I want to work in international organisations that defend women and children who are navigating systems harsher than the ones I have faced. I want to contribute to research, policy, and direct advocacy that challenge gender-based violence, exploitation, and the social structures that treat women as disposable. My work will be grounded in empathy but guided by analytic clarity, understanding not only individual stories, but the forces that shape them: poverty, migration, colonial histories, the criminal justice system, and the persistent undervaluing of women’s lives. I do not want a career that simply takes me somewhere; I want a career that allows me to reach back and pull others with me. The women before me, my mother, my grandmother, and all the women in my family who never had the chance to pursue their education, walked so that I could be here. I walk so that the girls who come after me will not have to begin from zero. That is the impact I hope to make: to create pathways where women can move forward with dignity, safety, and the freedom to dream without limits. This scholarship would not only provide financial relief, but it would also strengthen my ability to keep going, to stay in school with stability, and to build the work I have committed my life to. My goal is simple: to use my education to uplift women whose voices have been ignored for too long. And I intend to live that mission fully.

Entering higher education as a first-generation immigrant has meant learning how to survive in a system that was not designed with someone like me in mind. My tuition is covered, something I am immensely grateful for, but everything else, like housing, food, medication, transportation, and basic living costs is on me. And being an international student means I cannot work the way other students can. Most jobs on campus are limited, many departments do not hire international students, and off-campus employment is restricted by immigration policy. So I navigate college carrying not only my academic responsibilities, but also the weight of trying to survive in a country entirely on my own. There are months when I genuinely do not know how I will pay rent. Other months, I run out of money for food and rely on the community pantry in town. Sometimes I have to choose between covering my housing or buying the medication I need to take care of my mental health. The hardest part is that there is no safety net, my parents are in Brazil, unable to help financially, and I cannot take on additional work to stabilize my situation. I am doing everything I can, yet it often feels like the system expects me to succeed while giving me none of the tools needed to do so. Even so, I refuse to give up. I carry the responsibility of being the first in my family to pursue higher education abroad, and that responsibility is both heavy and sacred. In one of my papers, I wrote a sentence that reflects how I understand my journey: I walk an undoubtedly difficult path, but I walk it more easily because of the sacrifices of those who came before me. My parents and grandparents grew up with limited opportunities, but they gave everything, everything they had and everything they didn’t, to make sure my life could look different from theirs. That is why I keep going. My sister was the first in our family to earn a bachelor’s degree. I will be the third. My cousin is becoming a doctor. Every step we take breaks a cycle that once seemed unbreakable. And yet, pursuing this dream often feels lonely. While many students have guidance from parents who have been through college, I navigate everything from immigration paperwork to academic decisions to financial crises alone. But being an outsider has shaped me into someone who sees the world with a deeper level of empathy and purpose. I study Criminal Justice and History because I want to work in human rights, advocating for people whose lives mirror the vulnerability and instability I know well, children, women, survivors of exploitation, and communities that have been historically unheard. My lived experience makes my goals personal rather than theoretical. This scholarship would not simply ease my financial burden, it would give me space to breathe. It would mean not having to choose between rent and food, not skipping meals, and not delaying vital medication. It would allow me to focus on my education and my future with the stability I have never had. I am pursuing this degree not only for myself, but for my family, my community, and the generations before me who never had the chance. My journey is difficult, but it carries purpose. And I intend to honor every sacrifice that brought me here.

Being a first-generation student means holding an opportunity that no one before me had, and carrying the responsibility that comes with it. There is a weight that people don’t always see: the understanding that my family’s future now depends, in some way, on how far I can go. It’s not pressure that comes from them, but from knowing how much sacrifice was required for me to stand where I stand. Their hopes and their dreams live alongside mine. I left Brazil at seventeen with only a carry-on suitcase and a backpack, packing my entire life into two small bags because I believed education could change everything. My family didn’t have a roadmap for college. No one knew how financial aid worked or what applying from another country meant. I had to learn all of it alone. It took almost two years before I could finally start college, and those years were filled with work, saving money, and holding onto a dream that felt both fragile and stubborn. Now that I’m here, studying Criminal Justice and History, my goals feel even more urgent. I want to work in human rights, protecting women and children affected by violence and exploitation. This isn’t just a career interest. It’s a commitment shaped by my background, by what I’ve witnessed, and by the inequality I grew up seeing. Education is the tool I’m using to make sure that vulnerable communities don’t stay invisible. But being first-generation means that none of this happens without struggle. Financial instability follows me everywhere. There are months when I’m unsure if I can pay rent or afford groceries. Therapy and medication, things I need for my mental health, become difficult choices. There is no safety net. I’m always trying to balance survival with ambition. Still, even with the weight, I am grateful. In one of my papers, I wrote a sentence that captures what I feel every day: I thank my parents and grandparents for the uncomfortable path they walked, so that I could walk mine with more ease. They had so few opportunities, yet they did everything possible, and impossible, to make sure my siblings and I could reach what they could not. My sister was the first in our family to earn a bachelor’s degree. I will be the third. My cousin is graduating from medical school. Every diploma in our family carries the footsteps of the people who came before us, the ones who tried but couldn’t get this far. When I think about giving up, I remember that I am not walking alone. I am wearing the shoes of those who built the path for me. This scholarship would give me stability, the chance to focus on my education, to breathe, to continue becoming the person I promised my family I would be. Being first-generation is not about perfection; it is about purpose. And my purpose is bigger than a degree. It is the continuation of a journey that began long before me.

Being a first-generation college student influences my career goals in ways that are hard to separate from who I am becoming. I grew up knowing that education was something powerful, but also something fragile—something my family respected, even if none of us knew how to access it. When I left Brazil at seventeen with only a carry-on suitcase and a backpack, I wasn’t just moving to another country. I was stepping into a world none of us had ever entered before. And I had to learn everything alone. Coming from a low-income background shapes the way I look at injustice. It’s impossible not to notice who gets protected and who gets left behind. I saw that back home, and I see it even more clearly now through my studies. That awareness is what drives me toward a career in human rights. I want to work with women and children who face violence, exploitation, and trafficking, not because it is an abstract issue, but because I understand what it feels like to come from a place where safety is unevenly distributed. Being first-generation also changes the way I respond to challenges. There is no family blueprint, no older sibling who can show me the steps. Every application, financial decision, crisis, and opportunity is something I have to figure out myself. It can be overwhelming, but it has taught me persistence. It has taught me how to keep going even when I’m carrying stress, financial instability, and the emotional weight of being far from home. And this directly shapes my career goals: I don’t want a career that benefits only me. I want one that reflects the communities I come from. I want to fight for systems that recognize the dignity of people who grew up without resources or support. My goal is to use my education to advocate for those who are rarely heard, and to show that being first-generation is not a barrier, but a foundation for purpose.

Among the most pressing and challenging problems confronting the criminal justice system is its failure to effectively address Intimate Partner Violence (IPV). Too frequently confused with mere domestic violence, IPV includes a more extensive variety of abuse, including physical, emotional, psychological, financial, and sexual violence, inflicted between current or past dating partners. For as prevalent and harmful as it is, the U.S. criminal justice system persists in failing numerous survivors through a mix of under-resourcing, inadequate training, and procedures that frequently result in re-traumatization. Victims are not just dismissed or disbelieved, they are punished. If survivors report abuse repeatedly or defend themselves after years of trauma, they themselves will be arrested or charged. Rather than safety and support, they are further forced into isolation, fear, or silence. That indicates a justice system that is still enforcement-oriented instead of survivor-centered, without the infrastructure and training necessary to address IPV with the level of care it demands. As a future human rights advocate, I am determined to confront this systemic failure. My aspiration is to work at the nexus of gender justice, legal reform, and community support, advocating for the rights of survivors of gender-based violence and hate crimes. I find that meaningful change starts not just with police or courtrooms, but with public policy, education, and community-based support systems that can uplift survivors instead of criminalizing them. I would like to aid in transforming the system to be more trauma-informed, restorative, and equitable. This mission has been informed by academic as well as life experiences. Through my experiences as a volunteer for community initiatives, I had direct contact with women who were victims of IPV and domestic violence. These encounters provided me with a better appreciation of the impact of violence on not just the individual, but also on families and communities. I saw how the absence of knowledge of the law, access to information, and institutional support usually caused these women to stay in violent cycles, not by choice, but by necessity. I am now studying Criminal Justice with a pre-law concentration and taking courses that enable me to examine this problem through a global and human rights lens. One of the most influential courses that I have taken is International Women's Health and Human Rights from Stanford University. This course has opened my eyes to how other nations are tackling gender-based violence, through legal reform, public health policy, and survivor-centered care, and challenged me to critically consider how we could adopt and implement some of these approaches within the U.S. justice system. I've also participated in campus activities and community forums focused on trauma recovery, equity, and police accountability. What I've learned through these experiences is that true justice is about more than punishment, it's about listening, understanding, and standing with survivors as they rebuild their lives. I hope someday to work on initiatives that shape institutional responses to IPV and gender-based violence to be grounded in dignity, protection, and long-term support. It's not just ambition that motivates me, but purpose. I consider this work my life's calling, to stand up for those whose voices are habitually silenced, and to assist in shaping a system where justice isn't a privilege, but a certainty. I don't just wish to prosper in the criminal justice system; I need to leave it in a better state than I discovered it. To be awarded the Patrick Roberts Law Scholarship would be a life-changing step in making that future a reality. As an international student navigating my academic path without financial assistance from family, every means counts. Yet beyond the financial assistance, this scholarship would be an acknowledgment of my purpose and a confirmation that I have a place in this field, that my voice, my perspective, and my aspirations are important. Attorney Patrick Roberts' practice is inspirational not only due to his legal acumen, but due to his evident dedication to justice and moral service. I aspire to emulate that model in my own career: balancing legal scholarship with compassion, advocacy with ethics, and drive with a profound devotion to human dignity.

History has always fascinated me, which is why it's one of my chosen majors. My particular interest lies in studying World War II and the stories of its survivors. These narratives go beyond events; they speak of the strength of the human spirit, the profound consequences of decisions made in critical moments, and the importance of standing against injustice. As George Santayana put it, "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." History is an imposing teacher, showing us both the heights of human achievement and the depths of human suffering. History to me is a lot more than just the names and dates; it is the backbone of our present day and a roadmap for our tomorrow. Understanding the intricacies of the past helps us get into the pattern and be informed in making decisions at present. I look upon history as a mirror of our values, challenges, and opportunities that are to be learned to shape a different society. My ultimate goal is to work with Special Victims in helping the traumatized. For instance, World War II survivors show how important resilience is and the requirement of empathy when working with people who have seen unimaginable horrors. Having learned from the historical context of laws, societal norms, and systemic injustices will make me more compassionate and focused on a wider perspective when approaching each case. Volunteering has also shaped my understanding of history and its impact. Growing up in Brazil, I participated in community service through my church, helping those in need. This experience taught me the importance of addressing root causes, many of which are tied to historical inequities. It showed me that change requires not only immediate action but also an understanding of how societal structures came to be. Through my studies, I have examined how historical events shape modern issues like systemic inequalities and cultural divides. These insights will be helpful in my career, as I work to advocate for victims and promote systemic change. I also want to help others understand the importance of learning from history. Like Joseph C. Lowe, I believe sharing knowledge can inspire others to see the world differently and take action for a better future. Lastly, my love for history has also made me want to reach out to people. I would like to research how historical narratives mold our identities and standpoints, thus creating empathy and understanding between communities of different walks of life. I will make the knowledge of history serve me in meaningful contributions to society, whether through advocacy, education, or community involvement. For me, history is not just a discipline but a lifetime passion that inspires me to build a better future. In giving homage to the lessons of the past, I want my contribution to the welfare of the country and my community to be unforgettable, as I carry the banners of resilience, justice, and compassion.

A lyric in Olivia Rodrigo's "The Grudge" that hits close to my teenage experience goes this way: "It's strange to forgive, but I don't feel strong." This lyric speaks directly to a specific moment in my life when I discovered that my parents had made a decision that made me feel so betrayed. It was a pang of pain and confusion, likened to Rodrigo's song, where forgiveness, even in its concept, was overwhelmingly complicated. It wasn't just the act of forgiving that was so hard; it was the weight of disappointment and hurt and the stronghold it seemed to have on me, making it impossible for me to find the strength to let go. Now that I think about it, the ultimate act of betrayal was when my parents withdrew a police report on a situation where I had been assaulted. I went through a dramatic experience, and rather than stand by me, my parents decided to protect the one who hurt me. I heard the news later, years afterward; this was devastating. The lyric of this song "I have nightmares each week about the Friday in May" is a personal thing; this was the exact moment that I found out about their decision. It was a Friday in May when my mom accidentally told me, and that particular moment of revelation just tore my world apart. It was the Rodrigo lyric "It's strange to forgive, but I don't feel strong" that perfectly encapsulated how I finally felt when the cat was out of the bag. I wanted to forgive them, to understand, why they did such a thing, but it was so very hard. I felt so alone and betrayed because of their actions. "The Grudge" really talks about how holding onto such deep feelings of hurt can weigh you down, and I found that true in my situation. Although wanting to move on, I grappled with the thought of forgiving them when I felt so unsupported. It was like they decided upon the well-being of the person who hurt me over mine, and I just wasn't strong enough to let that go. When she sings "The cuts were never equal," haunts me, too, because later on I thought that I was the one more harmed compared with my parents, who suffered pain. They had acted based on fears and misunderstandings, but the wound to me was much deeper. It felt that the emotional injury I carried from their actions was much stronger than what they went through. And I never did come to terms with the discrepancy between their decision and the impact it had on me, which made it even harder to forgive. The questions finally reverberated with those I have constantly asked myself regarding my parents' decision when Rodrigo sings, "You think I deserve all of this? ". Did they think I deserved the pain I was living with day in and day out? That I was going to be okay even with the betrayal? That I might handle it when they chose the comfort of someone who had hurt me over my well-being? Those questions hit my mind every time I hear "The Grudge". It's such a song that touches my soul because it reminds me of the pain and struggle that made me come to terms with my parents' actions. It wasn't the incident itself but how their decisions changed my perception of them. To forgive is hard; it is almost impossible because it means coming to terms with feelings of confusion and hurt, and even after it all I'm still not strong enough.

I was born in Brazil, and Portuguese is my first language. Moving to the United States at eighteen years old, alone, was one of the biggest steps that had a huge impact on my life regarding personal development and academic path. Now, at Goshen College, I am pursuing a double major in Criminal Justice and History, and wish to continue building a career in international justice. I would like to further my studies upon graduation with a master's degree in either criminology or global crime and justice, which would open many avenues for career opportunities in which I can truly serve with much dedication to various causes: human trafficking and human rights. In the future, I also hope to work with international organizations such as ICC, based in the Netherlands, to further the cause of justice in support of international efforts on human rights. It has been rewarding yet trying to be bilingual. Being a native Portuguese speaker, the adjustment to an English-speaking academic atmosphere, especially for those courses that required excessive writing and technical language, was not easy to do. It took a lot of time and patience to learn how to express complex ideas in English, mainly on issues related to criminal justice and law. That barrier was difficult, yet it made me stubborn and adaptable. One of the trickiest things in being a bilingual academic is making sure that cultural gaps are bridged. I often feel myself reaching for different perspectives, probably born from my Brazilian background and sometimes quite different from those of my peers and professors here in the United States. My views on justice and social issues come from growing up in Brazil, which the very different social dynamics, economic realities, and criminal justice perspectives. These diverging opinions, rather than discouraging me, have only strengthened my ability to contribute to class discussions with a real-world depth that supplements theoretical inputs. Then there are a few advantages of being bilingual and culturally diverse, especially in my field. My background lends a certain kind of perspective that is priceless in international justice, where understanding diverse cultural views from other people is paramount for effective communication and collaboration. This is the cultural awareness that gives me an insight into others' ways of thinking and a way to advance their interests. It will also be highly applicable and important in future roles that support human rights and justice, in building trust, understanding complex situations, and working effectively with people from various backgrounds. My bilingualism and multicultural identity add value to me, which I strongly believe will enable me to bridge gaps in diverse global organizations. Most importantly, bilingualism perfected my cognitive abilities and adaptability. Studies indicate that more often than not, advanced problem-solving skills are developed among bilingual people, and this is an added asset in criminal justice and international law. Being able to think in two languages, I can approach problems from different angles. This has assisted me in doing critical analyses of many complex issues when doing coursework and subsequently in professional work. Looking ahead, I am driven to globally contribute to justice and human rights. With my bilingual abilities and skills that have developed along with my immigration process, I am well prepared to bring value to impactful roles concerning human trafficking and victim support in crimes, such as sexual assault. I'm committed to serving international organizations with my background and skillset in a meaningful way.

My journey into mental health started when I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety at age 13. From then on, life was one relentless fight against the emotional weight that kept pulling me to stay down and keeping myself going felt like it took every little ounce of strength. These are feelings of isolation, worthless feelings, and overwhelming despair that I have wrangled through over the years. Still, throughout them all, I held on to a deep, almost unshakable hope that somewhere beyond this pain lies a place of peace, a future in which finally I can be happy and feel at home with myself. This is hope that is often diminished by the realities of mental illness, my lifeline, which keeps me going. It has given me a purpose, even when the struggle felt endless. Therapy became a transformative part of my journey, enabling me to understand more about my mind, patterns, and responses. Through therapy, I have come to realize that most of my struggles were not just internal battles but part of certain relationships and dynamics in my life that were not healthy or even toxic. I have learned to recognize that rather than nurturing or supportive, some of those connections were a source of ongoing pain. As difficult as it was, I started to understand that setting boundaries was a matter of prioritizing my mental well-being, and that didn't make me selfish; that meant choosing to survive, protect myself, and heal. New and difficult for me was setting boundaries, but what an empowering feeling to think that I had the power to sculpt my environment and relationships in ways that helped me grow stronger. This shift in moving outward also strengthened my relationship with myself: blaming myself less and valuing the resilience that kept me fighting through my mental health struggles. It has taught me when to say "no", that keeping my peace is not selfish but necessary, and that I am allowed to remove myself from whatever is toxic to my growth. The most crucial thing I've discovered so far in my journey with mental health was what my fundamental variable was. But when finally this factor hit me, it was not some kind of understanding as to my pain; it was more like a revelation that kindled a fire inside of me regarding advocacy for others like me who are suffering in silence. The realization that there was something bigger going on hit me with how many people are suffering without support, justice, or even a vocabulary with which to describe what they're experiencing. I knew at that moment that I couldn't look away from such a reality; my pain needed to have purpose and become my voice-not just for myself, but also for people who have been marginalized, unnoticed, and rendered voiceless. This realization has significantly impacted my career goals. I've chosen to major in Criminal Justice while pursuing a career as a Special Victims advocate. It feels like the right path for me because my life experiences are interwoven with this desire to make some kind of change in the field of criminal justice. Working with Special Victims will help me support those who have experienced trauma, abuse, or neglect in making their way through a system that often feels impersonal or uncaring about their pain. Through my experiences, this is more than a career goal; it is about giving my experiences meaning and using my insight to help others find their way toward healing. I know from experience how much it means when someone is there to listen and show support, even in the darkest times of a person's life. This is just what I want to do for others. Fighting depression has taught me volumes about resilience, empathy, and standing up for things worthwhile-even when it is hard. My mental health journey has shaped my beliefs about justice, healing, and the power of advocacy. I believe justice is not merely punitive but about creating an environment where people can feel safe, understood, and empowered to rebuild their lives. Healing, as I have learned, is not linear at all; it's complex, messy, and most often requires more time and support than any person would expect. I hope to transfer this insight into criminal justice in a manner that presses against the rigid traditional approaches and instead fosters a system acknowledging the humanity in everyone. It has had quite an impact on my mental health, but it has also deeply influenced my relationships with other people. I have become more sensitive, more aware of the hidden battles people may fight, and even more committed to building relationships based on understanding and a willingness to show compassion. While at times I continue to struggle, I know my experiences gave me a different lens through which to view life and an ability to relate to others who are hurting. I am committed to nurturing relationships that uplift and encourage rather than drain or diminish. This has helped me to be surrounded by people who understand and are supportive, creating a network of positivity that I can lean on and contribute back to for support. Ultimately, this journey through mental health has given me direction and purpose that I probably wouldn't have found otherwise. I feel that through this channeling, my experiences could be put to better use in my career, allowing me to make some kind of difference in people's lives and, in a way, help complete my healing process. My aspiration is not only to seek justice but also to effect positive change in working with special victims by providing an opportunity for people to feel seen, heard, and supported. I know this war that I've been living will not last, and it puts me on a path to healing, first of all, to myself and most importantly to many others out there who need a hand to hold them through their darkest days.

One of the most intense moments where I applied my faith was when I moved to the United States. Leaving home in Brazil was terrifying; I was going to a new country all by myself, without any family or friends to see me off or be waiting ahead, and with no secure place to call home. My dream of studying and building a new life was accompanied by a lot of uncertainties about housing, finding jobs, and fitting in with a completely different culture. Each day felt like an overwhelming challenge, and many times I was puzzled about how to handle everything on my own. It was during these times, better described as doubt and uncertainty, that my faith became my strongest anchor. Growing up in a Seventh-day Adventist family instilled in me the value of putting my trust in God, but I had never experienced a situation that tested this trust until I came to the U.S. The feeling of powerlessness during my initial days was simply overwhelming. I didn't know whether I was going to make it or even meet my basic needs alone. Having no obvious answers and solutions, I resorted to prayer for help and comfort each time feelings of being lost emerged. One such example was the accommodation search. I tried the Internet and made a couple of calls; however, nothing seemed to turn in my favor. The time became increasingly short, and resources had become scarce. Away from the family, the search simply felt endless. I came to that point in life where I felt helpless, yet I still trusted the Lord that He was taking care of me somewhere. Well, I prayed every night for any kind of help or sign that everything was going to be all right. Finally, at the point where I wanted to give up, a small place opened small and modest one. Far from perfect, and by no means ideal, it did afford me the safety and security I needed to progress further. It is through that experience that I learned God answers our prayers, though in weird ways we could never imagine. My faith deepened in that process as I began to understand God's leading might not always go down the easiest path, but it would always be the right one. I realized having faith was accepting I didn't need to be in control of every aspect of my life. I was able to free myself from my worries and just know there was a plan, even though it may be beyond my comprehension. It was a turning point because, all along, my mentality had been that I must "deserve" God's favor by what I did. This proved the opposite to me, I learned that even when I felt like I had absolutely nothing to give to Him, God's love and support were always available. Each obstacle I faced, whether in housing, work, or social adaptation, became a reminder that I was never alone. This taught me to always be resilient and know that God is working. Through this process, I learned that it is possible for me to, at a very desperate moment, push myself into the unknown with courage, knowing I am supported by some presence far greater than my fears. This allowed me to lean on my faith to get over a very daunting challenge and establish a new life in a foreign country. I will carry this lesson with me into the future, knowing that faith is not about turning one's back on adversities but drawing strength from them.

The main goal for me is to make a career that deals with global crime, justice, and security issues through an advanced understanding of criminology and criminal justice. I am currently engaged in working for a double major in Criminal Justice and History, which has provided me with a comprehensive foundation regarding legal systems, criminal behavior, and historical influences on modern justice practices. The academic experiences have elicited ever-growing interest in international crime dynamics, human rights issues, and the dynamic role of justice systems across diverse cultures. I am currently undertaking a double major in Criminal Justice and History at Goshen College. Through these Studies in Criminal Justice, I get to put in place the basic notion necessary for the practice of Justice, criminological theories, and law enforcement realities. The focus that includes aspects of law in studying History adds depth in that it shows me how the legal system changes over time, responding to shifts in society and culture. Once I am through with my undergraduate study, I intend to pursue a Master's degree that shall further develop my understanding of international crime and justice. I am particularly interested in the Global Criminology, Global Crime, Justice, and Security, and Criminology and Criminal Justice programs at the University of Edinburgh and Utrecht University. These programs are a perfect opportunity to develop further knowledge concerning international criminal networks, human rights problems, and justice reform. By comparison, tuition is approximately £30,000 per year at Edinburgh and €18,000 at Utrecht, so I will be applying for various financial aid to make this dream a reality. I would like to work, during my Master's, on issues concerning Global Justice that the ICC was set up to address, including human trafficking, human rights abuses, and sexual violence. My study will develop the implications of international policies on human rights and justice reform, as well as the difficulties and limitations in prosecuting crimes that transcend national borders. These programs expose me to top researchers, international collaborations, and hands-on learning experiences that will prepare me to engage with these global issues. The ICC will be my ideal future workplace because it stands for the epitome of what I want to do justice on an international scale, supporting victims of serious crimes, and working towards a much fairer world. I know this is going to take years to come with commitment and experience, but I am ready for that journey. Working with the ICC will place me in a position where I will be able to contribute directly by assisting with the processes of persecution against those who commit crimes affecting people beyond borders and setting legal precedents that shall protect human rights globally. Besides the ICC, I am keen about international organizations working on antitrafficking, human rights protection, and fighting for victims of violence. These roles concern very important jobs that put me a part of something much bigger than myself, actually making a difference in the life of an individual. I am committed to turning this vision into reality. I fully realize that a career in international criminal justice will not be easy, but it is the prospect of becoming an agent of change that motivates me. Be it through supporting victims, helping in the prosecution of offenders, or contributing to policies combating human trafficking and other transnational crimes, I want my work to create a meaningful impact. With proper training, experience, and strong dedication, I believe I will be able to achieve my goal of working with the ICC among other organizations fighting for justice on a global scale.

Being undocumented has presented challenges that permeate every aspect of my life. It's not just about my legal status; it affects my ability to access resources, pursue opportunities, and maintain connections with my family. Applying for scholarships feels like an uphill battle, as many require to be a permanent resident, citizen, or documentation that I simply cannot provide. I can't work on campus, which means I have to find alternative ways to support myself. It’s isolating, especially when I see my peers moving forward with their education and futures while I face obstacles that seem insurmountable. The emotional toll of navigating these challenges is significant. I often feel alone in this fight, with no safety net to catch me if I fall. I have no family support to turn to when things get tough, and achieving anything feels like an incredibly daunting task. I've had to rely solely on my determination and resilience, but that can only take you so far when you’re faced with constant adversity. My journey has included harrowing experiences that have shaped my understanding of hardship. I've faced situations akin to forced labor, where I was trapped in circumstances that felt impossible to escape. There were times when I lost my job and had no choice but to sleep in others’ homes because I could not afford rent. These experiences have been incredibly difficult, yet they’ve instilled in me a deep resolve to push through and continue my education despite the obstacles. Now, as I apply for college, the financial burden weighs heavily on me. Many of my friends are applying for loans to fund their education, while I have to rely on scholarships and whatever work I can find outside of campus. Winning this scholarship would provide a lifeline, easing the financial stress that feels overwhelming at times. It would not only help me afford tuition but also allow me to focus on my studies and personal growth instead of constantly worrying about how to make ends meet. Education is my path to a better future, and I am committed to making it happen despite the difficulties I face. This scholarship would help me pursue my dreams and show that hard work and perseverance can lead to success, even against the odds. It would enable me to transform my challenges into opportunities and empower me to build a life where I can eventually help others who are facing similar struggles.

Throughout my life, I've often felt like my voice went unheard, a feeling rooted in experiences from a young age. I am a survivor of sexual assault; I was only seven years old when it happened, and I had to live with my abuser for years. This experience shaped how I see the world and fueled my determination to advocate for others. The pain of feeling powerless and isolated left a lasting impact, and that experience taught me just how crucial it is for survivors to have a source of support, someone they can rely on to help them find their voice and their path forward. My decision to study Criminal Justice and focus on Special Victims is deeply personal. I know firsthand how many young people, especially girls, go through similar traumatic experiences, feeling like they have no one to turn to. I chose this field because I want to be something that I didn’t have but that would have made my journey easier—a supportive, empathetic advocate within the justice system, someone who would help them feel seen, heard, and protected. I envision myself being that person who reassures survivors that they are not alone and that someone will stand by them through the legal process and beyond. Working with Special Victims allows me to fulfill a personal mission to prevent others from enduring what I went through. I understand the struggles survivors face, both in seeking justice and in trying to rebuild their lives. My goal is to be the steady support and the voice of reassurance I once needed, guiding others through what often feels like an impossible journey. I want to help create change within the criminal justice system so that it genuinely serves survivors and prioritizes their well-being and safety. Pursuing this degree is more than a career choice for me; it’s a commitment to use my experiences and strengths to bring about positive change. I want to be an advocate, a protector, and a source of support—someone who actively works to ensure no one else has to face their pain alone. Through education and dedication, I will be the kind of advocate who not only helps survivors find justice but also makes their journey a little easier, just as I once wished for myself. My promise to them is rooted in my own story: they will be heard, valued, and given the support they deserve.

Living with anxiety has shaped how I navigate life day by day and pursue its goals. Anxiety often makes even simple tasks feel daunting because every detail can suddenly feel critical, and I find myself worrying about doing things "right." It is the uncertainty it creates and the self-doubt involved that make starting new things or reaching for help practically impossible at times, leaving one isolated or misunderstood. Long afterward, my response was to keep everything to myself, feeling that no one could truly understand. This only deepened my anxiety and made me doubt my worthiness and capabilities. With time, however, living with anxiety has managed to teach me resilience and self-compassion. Through therapy and personal growth, I've come to realize that expectation management is important and a way to manage the stressors of life without the complete shutdown. Mindfulness, journaling, and setting realistic goals have turned into near-daily practices. It's a lot, being able to handle anxiety each day, but it has taught me how to be much more patient with myself and also be empathetic toward others. I now know how much internal battles affect a person's outlook and decisions, and it has furthered my empathy toward others. This process has made me stronger and more aware, shaping my thoughts on resilience as an achievable thing in small yet meaningful steps. The pursuit of a college degree is incredibly important to me; it is so much more than just academic achievement but symbolizes personal victory and a future I'm working toward. Education will always mean so much to me; this is a chance for me to grow, open my mind to new ideas, and invest a bit more in my future. Working with Criminal Justice, particularly Special Victims, is very personal to me. The experience of not being heard or seen has been personal for me, hence draws me to this field. I hope my experiences will be valuable in providing support for the people through their voices within a system that sometimes becomes impersonal. I plan on continuing helping others in whatever manner possible to make positive impacts on their lives. Earning a college degree is an important step towards achieving this goal, as it will provide me with the knowledge, abilities, and tools necessary to excel in that field. It will also allow me to prove to myself that indeed, I can overcome the limitations anxiety places upon me. This degree symbolizes more than a career path; it is an investment in my growth, independence, and ability to contribute to a meaningful cause. I am pushing through my boundaries and proving to myself that my future is not defined by anxiety but, instead, by my resilience and determination by persevering in my education.

It has formed part of my journey into shaping my aims and values in very fundamental ways-struggling through the minefield of mental health problems and personal growth. At 13, I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety; this started a long and painful journey into fighting my mental health. These have been my life struggles for years: feelings of isolation, hopelessness, and exhaustion coupled with these conditions. In the process, I have also learned about the complex relationship between mental health and the use of substances, as well as how easily one may fall into relying on substances to cope. At first, my depression and anxiety had seemed insurmountable. Therapy was not easy; often, it was uncomfortable. Forcing me to address depths of my pain that I didn't know existed, eventually taught me how to understand the thoughts and emotions that had been fueling my struggles. This was the first step in my personal growth journey that has completely revolutionized the way I go about my life and how I relate to myself and everyone else. How the environment around me and the relations affect my mental well-being is what I learned and how important it is for a person to set personal boundaries and respect himself. Setting boundaries was new and at times felt uncomfortable, yet empowering to nurture healthier relationships and guard my mental space. As I started to grow, I started to cherish supportive relationships and gradually began to withdraw from those who did not support my journey toward recovery. Substance use started to be an issue with me while I tried to self-manage some of the pains associated with mental illness. During some of my darkest moments, using substances would provide temporary relief from the inner battles that I was fighting; however, I quickly realized how this path was very unsustainable and really damaging. I felt more guilty and ashamed by using these crutches and knew that because of this, I felt even more withdrawn. But knowing this was not something peculiar to me-that it is common for people struggling with mental health issues to also struggle with substance use-helped me to snap out of this vicious circle of self-blame. Through therapy and support systems, I learned healthier ways of coping, and I began to realize that true healing took time and committed effort toward change for the better. Learning to identify my triggers and finding techniques to manage stress in constructive ways became an important tool I would be able to continue to draw on today. My struggles with mental health and a commitment to growth have driven me, in many ways, toward the study of Criminal Justice to work with Special Victims. My journey gave me a unique sense of empathy and the need to advocate for those people who, much like me, may have felt their voices were muffled amidst their pain. It is not only beneficial but also crucial to my supporting others that I continue to manage my recovery. My plan of action puts my mental and physical health first, and I am determined to adhere to it as I work toward both my educational and career objectives. Therapy continues to play a huge role in my life, as it provides a great opportunity for me to process my feelings and equips me with many valuable tools that help me handle stress and uncomfortable feelings. I also practice mindfulness through meditation and journaling, which helps to center and keep me grounded within myself. I have also come to realize that recovery requires a level of accountability, therefore, I filled my life with friends, family, and mentors who call me out when the time requires that I take care of myself. I am committed to maintaining openness regarding my journey and being honest with people who care about me, which keeps me so anchored down and allows me to recognize when I may need help. It is through these small actions-checking in with a trusted friend, reflecting on my progress, or celebrating small wins that I have been able to keep to my commitment toward healing and growth. In all ways, this journey of mental health, substance use, and personal growth has helped me understand resilience, empathy, and the importance of helping others. I believe that through my struggles, I have been molded in a way that enables me to bring empathy and comprehension to whatever task I engage in. Recovery is lifelong, but I have learned the skills, have the people around me, and am committed to continued positive change with confidence in the continuing management of my mental health.

My journey into mental health started when I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety at age 13. From then on, life was one relentless fight against the emotional weight that kept pulling me to stay down and keeping myself going felt like it took every little ounce of strength. These are feelings of isolation, worthless feelings, and overwhelming despair that I have wrangled through over the years. Still, throughout them all, I held on to a deep, almost unshakable hope that somewhere beyond this pain lies a place of peace, a future in which finally I can be happy and feel at home with myself. This is hope that is often diminished by the realities of mental illness, my lifeline, which keeps me going. It has given me a purpose, even when the struggle felt endless. Therapy became a transformative part of my journey, enabling me to understand more about my mind, patterns, and responses. Through therapy, I have come to realize that most of my struggles were not just internal battles but part of certain relationships and dynamics in my life that were not healthy or even toxic. I have learned to recognize that rather than nurturing or supportive, some of those connections were a source of ongoing pain. As difficult as it was, I started to understand that setting boundaries was a matter of prioritizing my mental well-being, and that didn't make me selfish; that meant choosing to survive, protect myself, and heal. New and difficult for me was setting boundaries, but what an empowering feeling to think that I had the power to sculpt my environment and relationships in ways that helped me grow stronger. This shift in moving outward also strengthened my relationship with myself: blaming myself less and valuing the resilience that kept me fighting through my mental health struggles. It has taught me when to say "no", that keeping my peace is not selfish but necessary, and that I am allowed to remove myself from whatever is toxic to my growth. The most crucial thing I've discovered so far in my journey with mental health was what my fundamental variable was. But when finally this factor hit me, it was not some kind of understanding as to my pain; it was more like a revelation that kindled a fire inside of me regarding advocacy for others like me who are suffering in silence. The realization that there was something bigger going on hit me with how many people are suffering without support, justice, or even a vocabulary with which to describe what they're experiencing. I knew at that moment that I couldn't look away from such a reality; my pain needed to have purpose and become my voice-not just for myself, but also for people who have been marginalized, unnoticed, and rendered voiceless. This realization has significantly impacted my career goals. I've chosen to major in Criminal Justice while pursuing a career as a Special Victims advocate. It feels like the right path for me because my life experiences are interwoven with this desire to make some kind of change in the field of criminal justice. Working with Special Victims will help me support those who have experienced trauma, abuse, or neglect in making their way through a system that often feels impersonal or uncaring about their pain. Through my experiences, this is more than a career goal; it is about giving my experiences meaning and using my insight to help others find their way toward healing. I know from experience how much it means when someone is there to listen and show support, even in the darkest times of a person's life. This is just what I want to do for others. Fighting depression has taught me volumes about resilience, empathy, and standing up for things worthwhile-even when it is hard. My mental health journey has shaped my beliefs about justice, healing, and the power of advocacy. I believe justice is not merely punitive but about creating an environment where people can feel safe, understood, and empowered to rebuild their lives. Healing, as I have learned, is not linear at all; it's complex, messy, and most often requires more time and support than any person would expect. I hope to transfer this insight into criminal justice in a manner that presses against the rigid traditional approaches and instead fosters a system acknowledging the humanity in everyone. It has had quite an impact on my mental health, but it has also deeply influenced my relationships with other people. I have become more sensitive, more aware of the hidden battles people may fight, and even more committed to building relationships based on understanding and a willingness to show compassion. While at times I continue to struggle, I know my experiences gave me a different lens through which to view life and an ability to relate to others who are hurting. I am committed to nurturing relationships that uplift and encourage rather than drain or diminish. This has helped me to be surrounded by people who understand and are supportive, creating a network of positivity that I can lean on and contribute back to for support. Ultimately, this journey through mental health has given me direction and purpose that I probably wouldn't have found otherwise. I feel that through this channeling, my experiences could be put to better use in my career, allowing me to make some kind of difference in people's lives and, in a way, help complete my healing process. My aspiration is not only to seek justice but also to effect positive change in working with special victims by providing an opportunity for people to feel seen, heard, and supported. I know this war that I've been living will not last, and it puts me on a path to healing, first of all, to myself and most importantly to many others out there who need a hand to hold them through their darkest days.