School isn’t easy for everyone, but in a world where education is highly valued, it can be demotivating when you just don’t get it. I come from a home where I haven’t always felt safe. There are little details in my life that keep me divided from my learning peers: needing glasses but not getting them until middle school. Being put in, “gifted programs”, and being torn away from my peers. Unlimited access to the strange, complex, disturbing underbelly of the internet. Being thirteen and sitting on a nineteen year’s couch. Dealing with depression, suicidal thoughts, and anxiety since fifth grade has made it challenging to stay focused and motivated in my studies. When you have to weigh the relevance of an A on an algebra exam, and the heft of a pair of scissors against young flesh, the comparison can get muddled. And of course, there have been times when I couldn't even muster the energy to attend classes or complete assignments, often drowning in blankets and pillows and wondering what it could be like to fall asleep and never wake up. And growing up in the midwest, queer culture is quiet. There are no pride flags on the churches where I grew up. There are no LGBT clubs for the schools where I grew up. But, there are plenty of hate crimes where I grew up. Keeping my bisexuality a secret from my parents has divided us. I’ve kept that part of myself buried so deep down sometimes I can even pretend it’s not there. Sometimes I can even pretend these little details were different. Sometimes, I can pretend that I got glasses right away, and could see my friends faces in full clarity. I can pretend that I wasn’t cast out of regular curriculum to be slotted away in a distant corner of my elementary school and given double the course work. I can pretend Spongebob and Sesame Street were where my internet-access ended. I can pretend I’m thirteen and safe with my mom. But pretending only gets you so far. Only got me so far. In the end, progress comes from acknowledgement. Looking away from what hurts doesn’t make it heal, it only lets it fester. A spreading infection. Being afraid is only powerful if you use your fear to grow. For me, boundaries is where I planted my seed — learning my worth and understanding I got to choose who does and doesn’t deserve to be around me. I don’t deserve to be in crowds of people who make me feel like I need to cut and chop off little pieces of myself to fit into who they want me to be. I have scars leftover from who the world has tried to make me. But, today, I am a twenty-years old, and I love my mother, myself and every other woman who has found herself without glasses, in a room tucked away, in a scary, unfamiliar place, or the company of someone who wishes her harm. The first step really is acknowledging. Then you have to accept, and love, and grow. Like a million-trillion of my sisters, I am still working towards those last steps, but I have never been more confident of my arrival.

I am a student who has struggled with depression/anxiety since I was in fifth grade. My parents split up when I was young, and I was a "problem child", alongside a "gifted child". My household was a mess in my youth, my parents split apart, my older brother with autism, violent neighbors -- My hair was knotted, my teeth were unclean and my clothes smelled horrible. I was an outcast. Never even in regular classes with my peers because they had sent me to a classroom where "gifted" students stayed. When I wasn't there, I was in the school counselor's office; she was always checking up on me, and once, even called CPS on my family. I attended school through high school with this same pool of peers - the ones who knew me as a violent, stinky, girl with a messy home life. I was always running away from this perception, I was always trying to prove myself, but I was at one point, on four different medications for anxiety/depression, and unable to focus on my academics. I even began to self-harm. But - like a thousand gifted, stinky girls with messy home lives, I learned that high school is not the end of the world. It is not the end narrative for us, because the future holds hope, for us, and those that remind us of ourselves. I am now a Public Health Student, to change policies that impact the youth. I want to enable our government's future children to thrive in a world my elementary school counselor would've approved of. I am now in my University's All Girls Hall Council, making decisions to impact and improve my community - make sure there are no girls who feel left behind, no matter how dirty their hair may be on any given day. I work at a front desk job in an all-girl community, supporting young women through all of their college crises -- domestic violence, emotional wear down, and every single issue that any young woman may need help with. I am there. I am trying to always be there. I see myself in every tear a young woman sheds, I see myself in every shake and tremble as a young woman recounts a tragedy she encountered, I see myself in my fellow council members when they must overcome the ingrained idealogy to speak when spoken to. I want women to feel safe in the spaces they choose to occupy. I want girls to know they are loved and wanted. I want to change the way everybody sees the world, and my pursuit of higher education is the best way to get there.