Being diagnosed with social anxiety affected nearly every part of my teenage experience. What made it especially difficult was that I was not always this way. Growing up, I was a social butterfly. I loved talking to people, making friends, and being involved. However, after being bullied relentlessly for my appearance in middle school, I slowly lost my confidence and became increasingly anxious about how others perceived me. By the time I entered high school, my anxiety had become overwhelming. I constantly worried about being judged for appearing awkward. Eating lunch alone was one of my biggest fears. If my friends were absent, I wouldn’t even get in line. The thought of sitting on a toilet trying to hide my feet felt more appealing than sitting by myself in the cafeteria. One of my worst moments happened when my math teacher let people pick groups of two for a game. I had no friends in that class, and I couldn’t stand the idea of looking left out. So I went to the bathroom and didn’t come back until class ended. Looking back, it’s difficult to believe how much I acted just to seem like I fit in, especially since most people don’t even remember those moments. Avoiding interactions prevented me from fully participating in experiences and left me feeling like someone on the sidelines. I only began to regain my confidence in the tenth grade, a year after I joined the track team. My coach, Coach Crook, saw both my strengths and my weaknesses. He knew that one of my biggest struggles was my lack of self-confidence, and rather than allowing me to stay comfortable, he intentionally put me in situations where connection with others was necessary. Whether it was assigning me to the 4x200 relay team or encouraging me to participate in team potlucks and activities, he pushed me to become part of something bigger than myself. Being on a relay team taught me that people were counting on me, and I could not allow my anxiety to keep me from showing up for others. Finally, I had found an environment where I felt needed. Track was only the beginning of my growth. It gave me the confidence to step into other spaces I once avoided, including joining NHS, serving on my church’s media team, starting my own Bible study group, and volunteering with charities. Each experience challenged me to connect with others and reminded me that I was capable of more than my anxiety made me believe. Although social anxiety is still something I continue to navigate, it no longer controls my life. In the future, I hope to become a creative director in the film industry. Pursuing that dream means doing many of the things that once terrified me. I will have to pitch my ideas, network with people in the industry, and advocate for both my work and myself. I cannot afford to hide in the background if I want to tell stories that make an impact. Living with social anxiety has taught me that the best thing I can do in life is be myself. I cannot avoid living for the sake of looking normal for others. The person who once hid in bathroom stalls because she was afraid of being perceived is now pursuing a career that requires her to step into the spotlight. My diagnosis has shaped my life in difficult ways, but it has also taught me resilience, courage, and the importance of embracing opportunities that challenge me to grow.

I have always been drawn to stories. Some of my earliest memories are of sitting beside my dad and watching movies together. It did not matter whether they were action films, animated movies, or dramas. I loved how a single story could make people laugh, cry, or see the world differently. Those movie nights sparked my curiosity and eventually led me to create stories of my own. Even as a young child, I was constantly imagining characters and worlds. In first grade, I wrote my own comic books and filled notebooks with drawings and story ideas. As my creativity grew, however, it also became something that others saw as getting in the way. My mind often wandered during class, and I struggled to stay focused on schoolwork. Eventually, the movies my dad and I once watched together became less frequent as my creativity was viewed more as a distraction than a strength. By the time I entered high school, I had fallen behind academically and doubted my abilities. I struggled with basic math skills and felt embarrassed by how much I had to catch up. Instead of criticizing me, my grandmother patiently worked with me whenever I visited her. She helped me understand concepts I had missed, rebuild my confidence, and recognize the opportunities my parents had worked so hard to give me. Because of her encouragement, I stopped seeing my creativity as something that had to compete with my education. Instead, I learned that I could strengthen both. I challenged myself by enrolling in AP classes that I once believed I was not smart enough to take. I joined the National Honor Society, became part of my church’s media team, and finally allowed myself to pursue what I had loved since childhood: film. Film has become much more than entertainment to me. It is the way I connect with others, express ideas, and explore issues that matter. Watching movies with my dad taught me that stories can bring people together, while creating my own has shown me that they can also inspire empathy and change. Every project I work on pushes me to think more deeply, collaborate with others, and communicate in ways that words alone often cannot. My involvement in film has changed my life because it has given purpose to the creativity I once believed was my greatest weakness. It has taught me perseverance, strengthened my confidence, and shown me that imagination can be a tool for meaningful impact. My goal is to build a career in filmmaking that tells stories capable of inspiring conversations, strengthening communities, and helping others feel seen—just as the films I watched with my dad once did for me.

If I could create a new challenge for Love Island, I would call it The Look Back Challenge. While the show is known for its flirty games, shocking twists, and dramatic recouplings, I think one of its biggest strengths is when the islanders open up and show who they really are. This challenge would bring out those moments in a fun, meaningful way. It starts with two teams, boys vs. the girls. Their goal is to go on a scavenger hunt around the villa to find old high school photos of the opposite team. Along the way, they will be given hints about an islander’s hobbies, aspirations, personality, or childhood memories. They’ll have to know the other team well enough to match each clue to the right person. Once all of the photos have been found, each team must match the clues and childhood photos to each islander. The team to correctly match the most clues and photos wins a reward, such as a jet ski adventure or a relaxing spa day (their choice). The real heart of the challenge comes afterward. Each islander holds their old photo and shares something they wish they could tell the younger version of themselves. It could be advice, encouragement, or simply the reminder that everything would eventually work out. Then, each contestant writes a short letter to their future self about the person they hope to become after leaving the villa. Anyone who feels comfortable can read their letter aloud. I would want this challenge on Love Island because it breaks away from the constant flirty and physical challenges the islanders are used to facing. Instead of testing chemistry through kissing games or dares, it tests how well the islanders truly know one another. It rewards paying attention to conversations, remembering details, and caring about someone’s life beyond first impressions. I think this challenge would also have a positive impact on the audience. Sometimes, when fans watch the drama unfold, it’s easy to forget the humanity behind the people on the screen. We forget that they aren’t perfect, that they’re still growing, and that they’re navigating life for the first time, just like the rest of us. While the show is incredibly entertaining, the moments we see don’t always capture the full depth of each islander’s character. That can make it easy for viewers to judge someone based on only a few edited moments. This challenge serves as a reminder that before they were contestants, they were just ordinary people with dreams, insecurities, and life experiences that shaped who they are. A challenge like this would encourage both the islanders and the audience to see each other with more empathy. It would give viewers a chance to connect with contestants on a more personal level, whether they’re already fan favorites or people the audience may not have liked before. I believe it would create meaningful conversations, memorable television, and remind everyone that the best relationships are built not only on attraction, but also on understanding, compassion, and genuine connection. That’s what would make the Look Back Challenge stand out as one of the most memorable challenges in Love Island history.

A story that changed my life was my grandmother’s, a proud Creole woman from Louisiana. She grew up in a strict household that valued education, which fueled her love of learning. However, because of her circumstances, she was unable to attend college. Despite this setback, her passion for education never faded. Instead, she encouraged her children to pursue higher education and build successful careers doing what they loved. Then she met me, someone who seemed to be her complete opposite. My head was always in the clouds, and I could never stay focused. It frustrated both her and my parents because I had opportunities that many people never receive, yet I lacked the motivation to take advantage of them. When my academic struggles began affecting my future, my grandmother stepped in. Entering ninth grade, I lacked basic mathematical skills. I struggled to multiply beyond 11, divide without a calculator, and even count money confidently because I was embarrassed by how far behind I felt. Rather than shaming me, my grandmother patiently worked with me whenever I visited her. She helped me study concepts I did not understand and rebuilt my confidence in my ability to learn. More importantly, she helped me recognize the value of the opportunities my parents had worked so hard to provide. She reminded me that many people are not given the same educational opportunities that I have. With this new confidence, I enrolled in AP classes that I once believed I was not “smart enough” to take. Later, I joined the National Honor Society and gained the confidence to pursue opportunities that seemed beyond my abilities, such as serving on the media team at my church. Most importantly, I began pursuing my dream of a career in film, hoping to use storytelling to inspire change within communities. Looking back, I realize how much of my success can be traced to my grandmother’s influence. Her story has inspired me to address issues that affect communities like hers. One issue that deeply concerns me is environmental inequality. Today, many historically marginalized communities, including some predominantly Black neighborhoods, are exposed to higher levels of pollution. The roots of this issue can be traced to discriminatory housing policies such as redlining, which often prevented Black families from moving into wealthier neighborhoods and concentrated them in areas later exposed to environmental hazards. Poor air quality is linked to chronic illness and other health complications, making older adults especially vulnerable. Unfortunately, many people are either unaware of this issue, do not realize its severity, or feel powerless to address it. While I recognize the cultural significance of these neighborhoods, I also believe that the people who live there deserve healthy environments in which to thrive. If I had the platform and resources to make a difference, I would begin by raising awareness about the communities most affected by environmental pollution and educating others about why the issue matters. I would then raise funds for initiatives such as air filtration systems, weatherization improvements for older homes, and expanded access to healthcare services. As my grandmother’s neighborhood undergoes gentrification and many elders and low-income families are pushed into areas with fewer resources, creating meaningful change has become increasingly important to me. My grandmother never had the opportunity to pursue the education she dreamed of, yet she dedicated herself to helping others succeed. The confidence she instilled in me has opened doors I once thought were out of reach. By addressing environmental inequality, I hope to use those opportunities to give back to communities like hers and create lasting change for future generations.

My family and I have always believed that my creativity was a gift from God. For most of my life, I knew I had it, but I did not fully understand what I was meant to do with it. I created things aimlessly and used it to distract me from my education. It was not until this year that everything became clear. I realized that my purpose is not just to create, but to use my creativity to uplift others. I want to become a creative director, someone who brings ideas to life and helps others see their own visions become reality. That calling means everything to me, but the path to get there is not easy. One of the biggest challenges I have faced is not only financial, but academic. When I entered high school, I realized I was not as prepared as I should have been. There were gaps in my learning that I had ignored for years, such as basic math, spelling, and foundational knowledge. It was not because I was incapable, but because I had not pushed myself. I often avoided trying out of fear of embarrassment or failure, and over time, that fear turned into real academic struggles. At first, this was overwhelming. Sitting in class and realizing I was behind made me feel ashamed. I felt embarrassed that I did not understand things that seemed so simple to everyone else. It would have been easy to shut down and continue avoiding the problem, just as I had done before. But high school forced me to confront it. I had to decide whether to continue letting fear control me or change for the better. Throughout high school, I have pushed myself to grow in every aspect of who I am. I have been accepted into the National Honor Society and NSHSS, where I was surrounded by students who had extreme dedication to excellence. These experiences helped shape my discipline and commitment to my education, as well as reflect on how far I had come. At the same time, I made it a priority to give back to my community. Through StreetSide Showers, I had the opportunity to serve individuals experiencing homelessness, which softened my heart and opened my eyes to humanity that modern society often overlooks. As I overcame obstacles in school my creativity was no longer a distraction, it found a place in my life through film and performance. Being part of the media team at One Community Church allowed me to create content that connects with people on a deeper level. It taught me the power of storytelling and showed me how creative work can inspire, heal, and bring people together. Dance has been another outlet for me, where my team earned national recognition through Next Step Dance. In addition, I have competed in track, earning medals at district meets as part of the 200 meter relay. Each of these experiences required dedication, time, and sacrifice, but they also taught me discipline and resilience. Even with these accomplishments, I have not always been the person I am today. There was a time when I struggled deeply with perseverance, not only in school, but also with the very gift I used to be so proud of. I would start things and not finish them. I would dream about ideas but never fully chase them. Fear held me back in ways I did not always recognize. I was afraid of failing, so I avoided giving my full effort. Even during those moments, God never gave up on me. In my freshman year of high school Jesus placed people in my journey who spoke life into me. People who saw the potential in me before I believed I had any. Coaches pushed me to go further, especially when I thought the tank was empty. Teachers encouraged me to keep trying, even as my grades brought light to my insecurities. And when I became part of programs that held me accountable, I was relied on to be the best I possibly could. My mindset shifted in a way that changed everything. I stopped seeing opportunities as something to fear and started seeing them as something to hold onto. I learned that failure is not the end, just part of the process. God’s lessons gave me the courage to give my full effort in everything I pursued. Today, I am in a much stronger place. I feel more focused, more determined, and eager to continue growing. The journey to becoming a creative director will not be easy, but I am no longer afraid of the challenge. More than anything, I want my future to be about more than just my own success. I want to use what I have been given to create opportunities for others. I want to be someone who helps people believe in themselves, just as others once did for me. I want to build something that lasts, something that opens doors for people who may not have had the chance otherwise. I am ready for what comes next. I am ready to take that step forward and become the person I know I am meant to be. That is why I would be truly grateful to be considered for this scholarship.

In Dallas, it doesn’t take long to notice groups of people living their lives on the street. Cars pass by and the people inside have grown numb, empathy diminished to a few judgmental glances as faces blur into the background. Before I started volunteering, I was no different. But once you face them, hear them, and connect with them, you can no longer look away. They stop being figures your mind blocks out and become stories that were never heard So far, I’ve volunteered with Streetside Showers and The Walter Bruce Foundation, both organizations dedicated to providing food, water, clothing, hygiene products, and the gospel to those experiencing homelessness. Through this work, I learned how easily anyone can fall into such situations. As well as how small necessities like toothpaste, baby wipes, or feminine products can make a meaningful difference. One moment that stayed with me was helping a young woman who needed feminine supplies. We had run out, and I felt the responsibility to do something, even if it was small. Moments like these taught me the value of listening, paying attention, and providing help where it’s needed. The smiles, gratitude, and relief from simple acts of service are experiences that reshape how you see the world. After volunteering, sitting in my mom’s car and seeing people on the street felt different. I saw faces, stories, and lives. It gave me a curiosity about how people’s lives unfold and a desire to help. As I step into the real world, I understand how fragile stability can be. Pursuing a creative career is difficult, and I know that one missed opportunity could put anyone just a paycheck away from hardship. If it is God’s will, I want to bring the stories of the streets to people’s screens. I want audiences to reconnect with the part of humanity we often deny, seeing homelessness not as an abstract issue, but as real lives deserving dignity. Inspiring change doesn’t always mean giving money or donating clothes—it can mean creating awareness, inspiring activism, and giving a platform to those whose stories are overlooked. I’ve chosen film production because it allows me to cultivate my ideas fully while also serving others. I get to adapt to my clients’ needs and immerse them in projects that have my full creative intent behind them. There is an ever-growing need for new ideas, not something recycled again and again or generated by an AI robot. Society needs solutions that increase engagement and awareness in their movements, ones touched by humanity and uniqueness. By using my skills in film and production, I hope to contribute to meaningful change, helping organizations and communities communicate their missions more effectively. These ideas give birth to production, leading to the success of not only my clients, but bringing silenced stories to the screen. I want my films to travel around the world and impact other creatives like me. Inspiring others is one of my biggest goals, especially because creative jobs are so competitive. A successful life for me includes meaningful impact at the center of the picture. It means using my creativity to make change, tell stories, and open doors for others. More importantly, it means giving back to communities, uplifting voices that are often unheard, and using my platform to serve others with intention and care. I want to be comfortable in my stability, yet still hungry for growth and new possibilities. That is a dream I will always strive toward, and one I am determined to bring to fruition.

Going into college, I plan to study film production. My dream is to become a creative director, someone who helps make people’s visions a reality and brings their thoughts to life. I want to collaborate with Black-owned companies, small businesses, low-funded schools, brands, and neighborhoods to build their foundation for success through strong visual storytelling and branding. I want to help them realize the countless possibilities at their fingertips while continuing to nurture the imaginative thinking I’ve had since childhood. I’ve chosen this path because it allows me to cultivate my ideas fully without extreme restrictions. I get to adapt to my clients’ needs and immerse them in projects that have my full creative intent behind them. There is an ever-growing need for new ideas, not something recycled again and again or generated by an AI robot. The Black community needs solutions that increase engagement and awareness in their movements, ones touched by humanity and uniqueness. Especially in a society divided by politics that engages most with visual information. These ideas give birth to production, leading to the success of not only my clients, but bringing silenced stories to the screen. Yet, for any of this to happen, it starts with a strong mind. Over the years, I’ve been challenged with physical limitations that threatened to hold me back in sports and daily life. They changed my self-image and made me insecure, and I started to spiral until I realized that I was the only one who could change my reality. It was difficult to put myself back into an athlete’s mindset and push through a mental block, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me. It broke me down so I could come back stronger. That experience prepared me for the battles ahead when times get tough and taught me perseverance, confidence, and the ability to keep going when progress feels slow. Those same qualities are essential in entrepreneurship and film production, fields where rejection, revision, and resilience are part of the journey. Another important part of my life was finding my identity. I grew up in Plano, Texas, in the early 2000s, and there is no exaggeration when I say I was the only Black student at my school. I had no community, no culture, and I felt like an outcast. It was only when my grandmother, a 70-year-old proud Creole woman from Louisiana, got a hold of me in the summer. She spoke life into me, introduced me to my roots and our traditions. After that summer, I continued to come back every Thanksgiving, 4th of July, and summer, and my parents thought it’d be better to move me into a more diverse environment. There were some awkward moments because at first I was “white-washed” or “awkward,” but once I found myself and my people, Blackness didn’t feel like a role I had to fit. It was just something I was proud of and that was a part of who I was. Because I was exposed to the struggle happening in the old Indianapolis neighborhoods, the hostile environment surrounding it, yet the programs and efforts put in place to help the community grow in the right direction, it lit a spark in me. I want my films to travel around the world and impact other Black creatives like me. Inspiring others is one of my biggest goals, especially because creative jobs are so competitive. A successful life for me includes meaningful impact at the center of the picture. It means using my creativity to make change, tell stories, and open doors for others. I want to be comfortable in my stability, yet still hungry for growth and new possibilities. That is a dream I will always strive toward, and one I am determined to bring to fruition!

In my area of study, I want to highlight and preserve parts of Black culture that have faded over time while also using film to bring attention to stories that are often overlooked or hidden from the public. When people think of Black history, the focus is often placed on slavery, injustice, and the influential figures who fought for civil rights. While these narratives are essential, they do not represent the full depth and richness of Black identity. Cultural elements such as Tutenese, an African American language, Louisiana Creole traditions, historical Black monarchs, The Blues, dances like the Lindy Hop, Black art, food, and the diverse heritages within modern Black communities are just as important. These traditions have shaped identity, creativity, and community, yet many have lost visibility over time. By studying film, I believe I can help restore and amplify these cultural elements while also shedding light on broader stories that are often underrepresented or misunderstood. Film is a powerful medium because it allows audiences to see, hear, and feel experiences in a way that written or spoken words alone cannot. It captures emotion, movement, sound, and environment, making it especially effective for preserving culture and communicating complex realities in an engaging and accessible way. Beyond cultural preservation, I want to use film to raise awareness of stories and perspectives that are not always given equal attention in mainstream media. Across the world, there are communities whose experiences are simplified, misrepresented, or ignored entirely. Film has the ability to challenge dominant narratives by presenting perspectives that encourage audiences to think more critically and empathetically. By exploring both historical and contemporary issues, I hope to bring attention to voices that deserve to be heard and understood. Film also allows viewers to become immersed in lived experiences. A short film about Tutenese could spark renewed interest in language and identity. A piece on the Lindy Hop could highlight joy and creativity as forms of resilience during difficult times. Documenting the preparation of traditional meals could preserve generational knowledge and emphasize the importance of heritage. At the same time, film can be used to explore global issues, encouraging audiences to look beyond their immediate surroundings and engage with the realities of others. If I can use film to bring attention to both cultural traditions and overlooked stories, I believe it can help foster connection, awareness, and pride. My goal is not only to preserve what has been forgotten, but also to create space for meaningful conversations that inspire understanding across different communities. Through this work, I hope to ensure that these histories, voices, and cultural expressions are not lost, but instead continue to inform, connect, and shape a more aware and compassionate future.

As a child, I was put into various sports and artistic activities, ranging from soccer and karate to ballet and piano. I would always excel in whatever I could get my hands on; yet, whenever there was a bump in the road, I'd want to quit, and my parents let me. As a result, I became a Jack of all aal trades, but a master of none. I lost motivation to be great at things I loved doing. I lost motivation to continue socializing, learning, and even living. I felt like a waste of time and money, especially when I saw my brothers find success in sports they started as children, both having the same opportunity I did. My escape was through my daydreams. The hundreds of books I would write, only to collect dust on shelves; my creative ideas stored away to be forgotten. I always had potential, but never the drive to stick through it. That all began to change during my freshman year of high school. I had a coach named Coach Crook who was one of the few African American educators on campus. There were days when I felt like I had reached my peak, like I had given all I could offer to my team. But Coach Crook held me down and held me accountable. He challenged me to my limits and made me want to do better, even when I performed badly at track meets. He pushed me forward, refusing to let me take a step backward. My passion grew. I trained daily after school, showed up consistently in the early morning practices, and developed a hunger to advance. That year, I started track with no experience. My first 100-meter dash was 18 seconds, which is FAR from impressive. But by the end of the season, I had shaved it down to 14 seconds flat. To many, that may be meaningless, but in track, seconds are everything. Just like the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks that eventually add up and contribute to your future. I realized if I continued to take steps back from track, dance, art, church, and even my own life, I would never achieve the plan God had set out for me. I learned that taking “breaks” because I wasn’t “good enough” was just a way of avoiding my responsibilities and feeding into my insecurities, even my suicidal thoughts. It took one person to hold me accountable -- to not let me take the easy way out. He made me face my fears of being inadequate, and in doing so, he helped me find the resilience I had been missing all my life. That year, Coach Crook left. But his impact on my soul never left. His influence continues to guide me to this day. Whenever I feel worthless, I think back to the person who believed in me when I was at my lowest, when I doubted myself, when I felt unpredictable, full of flaws, fears, and shame. I look back to Coach Crook and remind myself to have the same mercy and grace that he had for me. Now, as I’m preparing to go to college, I know there’s still a long battle before I achieve my aspirations. But I also know it’s a battle I’ve been prepared for. My dream is to become a creative director, someone who helps make people’s visions a reality, who brings their thoughts to life. I want to collaborate with companies, small businesses, schools, brands, and celebrities to build their foundation for success. I want to help them realize the countless possibilities at their fingertips, continuing to nurture my imaginative thinking. That is a dream I will never give up on. I believe that God places specific people in our lives for a reason. Coach Crook was one of those people in mine, and I will forever thank him for molding me into the individual I am today.

As a child, I was enrolled in countless sports and artistic activities, from soccer and karate to ballet and piano. I usually excelled at whatever I tried until things became difficult. At the first obstacle, I wanted to quit, and my parents allowed me to. Over time, I became a “jack of all trades, master of none.” I lost motivation to fully commit to the things I loved, watching my brothers succeed in sports they stuck with while I repeatedly stepped away from my own pursuits. I had ideas, creativity, and potential, but no perseverance. My dreams, stories I wanted to write and visions I wanted to bring to life, were left unfinished, stored away and forgotten. That pattern began to change during my freshman year of high school when I joined track with no prior experience. My goal was not to become the fastest runner on the team; it was to finally stop quitting when progress felt slow or uncomfortable. I had a coach, Coach Crook, one of the few African American educators on campus, who refused to let me fall back into old habits. When I felt like I had reached my limit or was not good enough, he held me accountable. He challenged me, corrected me, and believed in me even when my performances disappointed me. When I ran my first 100-meter dash, my time was 18 seconds, far from impressive. Instead of walking away, I stayed. I trained after school, showed up consistently to early morning practices, and learned to push through discomfort. By the end of the season, I had cut my time down to 14 seconds flat. In track, seconds matter. I learned that progress is built the same way life is, through small, consistent efforts over time. More importantly, I learned that stepping away whenever I felt inadequate only reinforced self-doubt and kept me from becoming who I was meant to be. That season taught me resilience. It showed me that taking breaks because I was not immediately successful was really a way of avoiding growth. Coach Crook did not allow me to choose the easy way out, and through that accountability, I began to rebuild confidence, discipline, and belief in myself. Although Coach Crook eventually left, his impact never did. When I doubt myself now, I think back to someone who believed in me during a time when I struggled to believe in myself. His example taught me how powerful encouragement, grace, and persistence can be. As I prepare for college, I know I am still working toward bigger goals. My aspiration is to become a creative director, someone who brings ideas to life and helps others turn their visions into reality. Whether collaborating with brands, schools, small businesses, or creative teams, I want to build foundations for success and possibility. The discipline I gained through track taught me that creativity also requires commitment, patience, and consistency. I no longer walk away when progress feels slow. I stay, I work, and I grow. I believe God places people in our lives for a reason. Coach Crook was one of those people in mine, and because of him, I learned how to persevere, something I will carry with me into every goal I pursue next.

As a child, I was put into various sports and artistic activities, ranging from soccer and karate to ballet and piano. I would always excel in whatever I could get my hands on; yet, whenever there was a bump in the road, I'd want to quit, and my parents let me. As a result, I became a Jack of all trades, but a master of none. I lost motivation to be great at things I loved doing. I lost motivation to continue socializing, learning, and even living. I felt like a waste of time and money, especially when I saw my brothers find success in sports they started as children, both having the same opportunity I did. My escape was through my daydreams. The hundreds of books I would write, only to collect dust on shelves; my creative ideas stored away to be forgotten. I always had potential, but never the drive to stick through it. That all began to change during my freshman year of high school when I met Coach Crook. There were days when I felt like I had reached my peak, like I had given all I could offer to my team. But Coach Crook held me down and held me accountable. He challenged me to my limits and made me want to do better, even when I performed badly at track meets. My passion grew. I trained daily after school, showed up consistently in the early morning practices, and developed a hunger to advance. That year, I started track with no experience. My first 100-meter dash was 18 seconds, which is FAR from impressive. But by the end of the season, I had shaved it down to 14 seconds flat. To many, that may be meaningless, but in track, seconds are everything. Just like the seconds, minutes, hours, days, and weeks that eventually add up and contribute to my future. I realized if I continued to take steps back from track, dance, school, church, and even my own life, I would never achieve the plan God had set out for me. I learned that taking “breaks” because I wasn’t “good enough” was just a way of avoiding my responsibilities and feeding into my insecurities, even my suicidal thoughts. It took one person to hold me accountable, to not let me take the easy way out. He made me face my fears of being inadequate, and in doing so, he helped me find the resilience I had been missing all my life. That year, Coach Crook left. But his impact on my soul never did. His influence continues to guide me to this day. Whenever I feel worthless, I think back to the person who believed in me when I was at my lowest, when I doubted myself, when I felt unpredictable, full of flaws, fears, and shame. I look back to Coach Crook and remind myself to have the same mercy and grace that he had for me. Now, as I’m preparing to go to college, I know there’s still a long battle before I achieve my aspirations. But I also know it’s a battle I’ve been prepared for. My dream is to become a creative director, someone who helps make people’s visions a reality, who brings their thoughts to life. I want to collaborate with companies, small businesses, schools, brands, and celebrities to build their foundation for success. I want to help them realize the countless possibilities at their fingertips, while continuing to nurture my imaginative thinking. That is a dream I will never give up on.

Going into college, I plan to earn my master’s degree in film production. My dream is to become a creative director, someone who helps make people’s visions a reality and brings their thoughts to life. I want to collaborate with companies, small businesses, schools, brands, and celebrities to build their foundation for success. I want to help them realize the countless possibilities at their fingertips while continuing to nurture the imaginative thinking I’ve had since childhood. I’ve chosen the entrepreneurial path because it allows me to cultivate my ideas fully without extreme restrictions. I get to adapt to my clients’ needs and immerse them in projects that have my full intent behind them. I know my business will be successful due to the ever-growing need for new ideas, not something recycled again and again or generated by an AI robot. Society needs solutions for engagement in their movements, ones touched by humanity and uniqueness. These ideas give birth to production, leading to the success of not only my clients but my business as well. Yet for any of this to happen, it starts with a strong mind. Over the years, I’ve been challenged with physical limitations that threatened to hold me back in sports and daily life. They changed my self-image and made me insecure, and I started to spiral until I realized that I was the only one who could change my reality. It was difficult to put myself back into an athlete’s mindset and push through a mental block, but it was the best thing that could have happened to me. It broke me down so I could come back stronger. That experience prepared me for the battles ahead when times get tough and taught me perseverance, confidence, and the ability to keep going when progress feels slow. Those same qualities are essential in entrepreneurship and film production, fields where rejection, revision, and resilience are part of the journey. Lastly, a successful life to me looks like happiness in how far I’ve come. I want my films to travel around the world and impact other creatives like me. Inspiring others is one of my biggest goals, especially because creative jobs are so competitive. Young people need encouragement to advance their skills and build a path for themselves in careers they truly enjoy. A successful life for me includes impact in the picture. It means using my creativity to make change, tell stories, and open doors for others. I want to be comfortable in my stability yet still hungry for growth and new possibilities. That is a dream I will always strive toward, and one I am determined to bring to fruition!

In Dallas, it doesn’t take long to notice groups of people living their lives on the street. Cars pass by and the people inside have grown numb, empathy diminished to a few judgmental glances as faces blur into the background. Before I started volunteering, I was no different. But once you face them, hear them, and connect with them, you can no longer look away. They stop being figures your mind blocks out and become stories that were never heard. So far I’ve volunteered with Streetside Showers and The Walter Bruce Foundation, both organizations dedicated to providing food, water, clothing, hygiene products, and the gospel to those experiencing homelessness. Through this work, I learned how easily anyone can fall into such situations, the ones that society distances itself from so completely that people lose touch with reality. Volunteering allows you to learn their lives and offer small necessities that can mean everything, toothpaste, baby wipes, feminine products. The things most people never imagine living without. One moment that stayed with me was meeting a woman in her early twenties who needed tampons and a razor. We had run out of feminine supplies, and I felt helpless. It was as if her world rested in my hands and I couldn’t change the outcome. A group leader was eventually able to buy what she needed, but the emotions I felt still lingered. The smiles you see, the tears of happiness, all from something as simple as a shower and clean clothes. It’s the type of experience that dismantles walls you don’t realize you’ve built. After these experiences, sitting in my mom’s car and seeing people on the street felt different. I saw a face, a story, a person, there was a curiosity about how their lives unfolded, and an urge to help. As I step into the real world and the barrier my parents provided slowly fades, I’ve come to understand how fragile stability can be. Pursuing a creative career is difficult, and I know that one missed opportunity could put anyone just a paycheck away from poverty. If it is God’s will, I want to bring the stories of the streets to people’s screens. I want audiences to reconnect with the part of humanity we often deny, for them to see homelessness not as an abstract issue, but as real lives deserving dignity. This doesn’t always mean giving money or donating clothes, it can mean inspiring activism and change that provides a lifeline to those in unfortunate situations. Through film, I plan to explore silenced stories across the world. Media is one of the most powerful forces today, and if even one documentary I create sparks a movement, I will feel fulfilled with my life’s work. Until then, I will continue dedicating my time to learning these communities on a personal level, and honoring their untold stories.

In Dallas, it doesn’t take long to notice groups of people living their lives on the street. Cars pass by and the people inside have grown numb, empathy diminished to a few judgmental glances as faces blur into the background. Before I started volunteering, I was no different. But once you face them, hear them, and connect with them, you can no longer look away. They stop being figures your mind blocks out and become stories that were never heard. So far I’ve volunteered with Streetside Showers and The Walter Bruce Foundation, both organizations dedicated to providing food, water, clothing, hygiene products, and the gospel to those experiencing homelessness. Through this work, I learned how easily anyone can fall into such situations, the ones that society distances itself from so completely that people lose touch with reality. Volunteering allows you to learn their lives and offer small necessities that can mean everything, toothpaste, baby wipes, feminine products. The things most people never imagine living without. One moment that stayed with me was meeting a woman in her early twenties who needed tampons and a razor. We had run out of feminine supplies, and I felt helpless. It was as if her world rested in my hands and I couldn’t change the outcome. A group leader was eventually able to buy what she needed, but the emotions I felt still lingered. The smiles you see, the tears of happiness, all from something as simple as a shower and clean clothes. It’s the type of experience that dismantles walls you don’t realize you’ve built. After these experiences, sitting in my mom’s car and seeing people on the street felt different. I felt their pain, a curiosity about how their lives unfolded, and an urge to help. As I step into the real world and the barrier my parents provided slowly fades, I’ve come to understand how fragile stability can be. Pursuing a creative career is difficult, and I know that one missed opportunity could put anyone just a paycheck away from poverty. If it is God’s will, I want to bring the stories of the streets to people’s screens. I want audiences to reconnect with the part of humanity we often deny, for them to see homelessness not as an abstract issue, but as real lives deserving dignity. This doesn’t always mean giving money or donating clothes, it can mean inspiring activism and change that helps people find their way off the streets. Through film, I plan to explore silenced stories across the world. Media is one of the most powerful forces today, and if even one documentary I create sparks a movement, I will feel fulfilled with my life’s work. Until then, I will continue dedicating my time to learning these communities on a personal level, and honoring their untold stories.

A black leader in my life who has inspired me the most is my father. He is an engineer at Quorvo who is still continuing to advance his knowledge, and management positions. He also is designing equipment to solve the issue of danger to children left in cars. His passion has always been to create, teach, and learn. I’d be lying if I denied the fact that his passions have influenced my own. He has allowed me to accompany him at his office on various occasions, helping me understand how chips in phones operate and how they are able to produce such a product. Me being able to experience this was a result of a program he manages called Tech Titans! This program allows students on all levels from multiple different education centers to come learn about engineering. Due to him even more high schoolers and elementary schoolers have been able to discover their interest. Because of him, I never had to go through the struggles he faced in his younger years. He was born in Indianapolis and lived in a troubling neighborhood. In this area there wasn’t many schools, and only one church. He was often pressured to act in certain ways and resist the urges to follow the crowd in their bad deeds. He continued his education, avoiding drugs, shootings, and peer pressure from my uncles. Because of this focus, and drive to become more, he was the first to graduate out of his family. He studied until he obtained he his masters, and is working on his doctorate degree in the present. Whenever I struggle in school, he’s always there to motivate and push me to get the most out of my potential. I have never met someone who holds education at such a high value, which of course does come with the stress of meeting high standards! However, he is a hardworking man and has dedicated his life to me and my brothers. Without him I don’t know where I’d be today, or even who I’d be. I’m very blessed to have someone who provides us with his love, wisdom, and determination at its purest. Always giving back to the places that brought him up, and the people who are at the worlds mercy. He’s sculpted a path for my family and I’m so grateful for his patience and determination. Which is why my father is, and will always be, my greatest inspiration.