Being a black girl with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) in a predominantly white town is challenging.
Unfortunately, bullying and racism comes with the territory. I’ve been told "I don't like you because you're black,” "your mom must be a drug dealer because you're black,” and “your hair looks like Ramen noodles" by other students in additional to racial slurs my school career. I’ve reported them to staff, they ask students not to say things like that and the superintendent asked me to sit on a diversity committee, but no real change. I've been embarrassed, accused of stealing from the school café, had to demand video surveillance review to prove my innocence, and received no apology. A white woman clutched her purse and moved away from me as I walked into a store.
There's no elaborate story about my ADHD. I had issues concentrating, teachers told my parents it was concerning, my doctor prescribed medication, it wasn’t working. The dose was increased, I felt horrible. I couldn’t eat, got headaches, mood swings, and lost ten pounds. I was doing fantastic in school, but at the expense of my physical and mental health.
I told my mom how awful the medication made me feel. She stopped it, we tried vitamins, phone reminders, and post-it notes to keep me on track. We met with the school to ask for help. Despite providing documentation, calls, e-mails, and meetings, the school did not offer assistance. I kept working independently to find solutions (private tutors, checklists). Although things improved slightly, I was struggling.
My junior year, the pediatrician tried different medication, side effects aren’t as severe, and I learned workarounds like having a high protein meal to maintain weight and avoid hunger headaches. I learned that medication is a valuable tool to keep me focused and to ignore bullies; only I can determine my worth. I applied lessons from my struggles, improved my grades, and figured out how to manage everything.
Throughout it all has been softball. That doesn't mean I was always good. Two years ago, I could barely hit and couldn't make a travel team, despite trying several times. I learned about a team that needed players, messaged the coach for a tryout, and made it. My coach told me I wouldn't play much, but if I worked hard, I could start the following year. I went to every extra practice, got a hitting coach, did drills and camps, lifted weights, ran, and got faster. I didn't stop working; I still haven't. I knew that coach gave me an opportunity to improve on the field and lessons that translate to academics and the professional world.
This season, I was a starter on defense and a permanent part of the batting lineup. I hit two home runs, a few triples and doubles, and had several singles and runners batted in. I became a leader on my team, calling huddles, cheering, and keeping spirits up.
I learned that softball and life are similar; there’s no shortcut to success; you must put in hard work, weather storms, overcome challenges, and persevere.
Adversity shaped me by teaching me to tune out negativity, fueling my strong work ethic, teaching me reliance, and creating a passion for minority and women's rights.
I plan on attending college, earning a Political Science degree, completing law school, becoming a lawyer, and helping those who face racism and sexism navigate the legal system while inspiring others to overcome adversity. However, there is financial burden associated with my plans. The Bright Lights Scholarship would greatly help me in easing that burden and ensuring success.