Navigating a career like dental hygiene as a Black person especially in a field where most don’t look like me comes with its own set of challenges but also a deep sense of empowerment. For me this journey isn’t just about breaking barriers or fitting into a space where representation is scarce. It’s about proving that diversity holds real value and that seeing someone like yourself in these roles can inspire others from similar backgrounds to follow suit. Every step I take as a first generation Afro Caribbean college student in this largely unfamiliar territory reminds me of the responsibility and pride I carry not just for myself but for the communities I aim to serve. Growing up Afro Caribbean in the United States shaped how I view identity, culture, and resilience. My mother’s courage to uproot our lives and bring us here taught me the importance of perseverance and self worth. But beyond personal success, I learned that true accomplishment involves lifting others up along the way. Dental hygiene appeals to me because it blends science with compassion and community involvement. It offers a way to give back and challenge the narrow ideas about who belongs in healthcare. Being the first in my family to pursue higher education means I’m often paving a path without a clear guide. Balancing the demands of school with the expectations that come from being a role model for my family and community isn’t always easy, yet it keeps me driven. I see my education as a bridge linking my roots to my future goals and as a path I hope to help others cross. I’ve pushed myself to keep a strong GPA, handle the financial realities of school, and build the skills necessary to offer care that is both expert and compassionate. What makes this pursuit especially meaningful is recognizing the gaps many Black and minority communities face in healthcare access, including dental services. Many people struggle to find care due to cultural barriers or distrust, which makes it harder to seek help. I want to be part of changing that by serving with empathy and respect, making dental health something approachable and inclusive. My own background helps me understand the emotional side of care the importance of building trust and connection. Receiving this scholarship would not only relieve some financial pressure but also strengthen my commitment to owning my identity and purpose. Being proudly Afro Caribbean and holding my ground in a predominantly white field fuels my desire to make a lasting difference. Success I believe doesn’t come from fitting in but from embracing your unique qualities and using them to motivate others. In the end, my goal is to demonstrate that with grit, community support, and belief in oneself, anyone can reach leadership roles in healthcare. I want to be a visible example for other first generation students and minorities, showing that representation truly matters and that giving back honors the journeys that brought us here.

I didn’t grow up with comfort or certainty. My story, like many first generation Americans, begins with sacrifice. My mother, a woman whose bravery I’ll never fully be able to put into words, left everything behind to chase the hope of a better life. She crossed the ocean in a fragile boat, risking it all to bring us here. We ended up in public housing, where every month was a balancing act, and scarcity shaped our day to day reality. On top of that, my mother suffered from severe mental illness, which often left our home in a state of emotional chaos. From a young age, I learned what it meant to carry weight too heavy for a child’s shoulders. Living with her illness taught me resilience but it also left its mark. I struggled with anxiety and depression without even realizing it at first. Some mornings, just getting out of bed and making it to school felt like climbing a mountain. I kept quiet about it, partly out of fear, partly because that’s just what you do in immigrant households. We’re taught to tough it out. Push forward. Don’t complain. Eventually though, the cracks began to show. Survival wasn’t enough. I needed something more. After high school, I enlisted in the military, hoping to build a foundation for something greater. But I wasn’t ready. I gave college a shot but I wasn’t equipped mentally or emotionally to succeed. I dropped out, ashamed, feeling like I had let everyone down. That failure hit hard but it also woke me up. I started to work on myself, piece by piece. Therapy helped. So did finally seeing a doctor and starting medication. It was like coming up for air after years underwater. Slowly, I found balance. My grades improved. So did my self-worth. Now I’m holding a 3.8 GPA and preparing to enter a dental hygiene program. I’m the first in my family to make it this far in school and every step has been earned. I’ve saved what I could, often sacrificing personal needs to afford the tools and supplies I’ll need for the program. But this journey isn’t just about me. It’s about using what I’ve learned through struggle, failure, and healing to help others. I want to serve communities that often get overlooked, especially those battling mental health challenges with nowhere to turn. I want to be the kind of healthcare professional who doesn’t just treat symptoms but sees the whole person. Who listens. Who understands. Because I’ve lived it. And if I can become that person for someone else, then all of this will have meant something

Growing up with a mother battling schizophrenia taught me early how isolating mental illness can be for both the person suffering and the family around them. I didn’t just witness mental illness; I lived inside it. I know the fear, confusion, and shame that silence breeds. I also know how damaging the lack of support can be. My mother didn’t get the care she needed, and it tore through our lives. Her struggle and my own battles with anxiety and depression have shaped how I support others. I’ve learned to listen without judgment, offer calm in chaos, and sit with people through their darkest moments without trying to fix them. At school, I’m the one friends call when they’re overwhelmed. I check in, I stay present, and I help them access resources. Emotional support isn't loud. It’s consistent. It's being the person others can count on to understand without turning away. Now, with a 3.8 GPA and an acceptance into dental hygiene school, I’m turning my pain into purpose. I’m pursuing a career in healthcare not just to treat patients’ physical needs but to recognize the emotional burdens they carry too. Many patients come in afraid. Afraid of pain, of judgment, of being dismissed. I’ve been that person. I won’t let them feel that alone in my care. In the future, I want to advocate for trauma informed dental care and help reduce the stigma around mental health in both patients and professionals. I believe every interaction in healthcare is an opportunity to show compassion and build trust. I’ve seen what untreated mental illness can destroy but I’ve also seen how empathy and understanding can start to rebuild someone. That’s the kind of provider I will be. :)

Growing up with a mother battling schizophrenia was like living in a storm without shelter. I never knew what each day would bring. Whether my mother would be lucid or lost in delusions, warm or cold, present or gone. Mental illness lived in my home like an uninvited guest who refused to leave. It shaped every part of my childhood. We lived in the projects, struggling to survive while her illness made stability nearly impossible. There were times we had no lights, no food, and no peace. But my mother loved me fiercely and did everything she could despite the chaos in her mind. Her battles affected me deeply. As a kid, I was scared, confused, and constantly on edge. That constant vigilance followed me into adulthood and turned into anxiety and depression. I was told to be strong, to push through, but strength without the right tools is just silent suffering. I joined the military hoping to escape, hoping it would give me direction, but I carried years of trauma with me. I failed at school. I felt like a disappointment. My mind was loud but I could not find the words to explain it. Still, I refused to give up. I started therapy, learned how to talk about what was inside me, and gave myself another chance. I returned to school, took it seriously, and slowly rebuilt my life. Now I have a 3.8 GPA and have been accepted into a dental hygiene program. Getting here took everything I had. Every success I have now is rooted in the pain I survived. Mental health has shaped how I see the world. I do not romanticize struggle. I respect it. I know what it does to families, what it steals from children, and how invisible it can make people feel. I want to work in healthcare because I understand suffering. Not just the kind you can see, but the kind that hides behind smiles and quiet voices. I want to treat patients with compassion, not just for their bodies but for their minds. In dentistry, many patients carry fear and shame. I want to be the kind of provider who understands that and helps them feel safe. I also want to be a voice for those who have felt silenced. Mental illness is still a taboo in many Black and Latino homes where asking for help is seen as weakness. I want to change that. I want kids like me, kids raised by parents who are mentally ill, kids who battle their own mental health, to know they are not alone. That failure is not final. That their story does not end with a diagnosis or in statistics. This scholarship would not just relieve the financial stress of school. It would honor the journey I took to get here. A journey full of loss, fear, and doubt but also filled with growth, fight, and persistence. I have seen what mental illness can do. I have also seen what healing, time, and belief can rebuild. I want to be part of a healthcare system that sees people fully. I want to be the provider my mother needed. I want to give others what I once needed most: to be seen, to be heard, and to be helped.

My journey into healthcare began long before I ever stepped into a classroom. I was raised by my mother, a woman whose courage has defined my life. She risked everything to bring us to America on a small boat, leaving behind the Dominican Republic with nothing but hope. We ended up in the projects where every day was a test of resilience. Watching her work multiple jobs, constantly exhausted but never defeated, showed me what sacrifice truly means. As a first generation American, I always felt the pressure to succeed but lacked the tools to navigate the system. I joined the military hoping it would give me direction, discipline, and purpose. It did all that but it did not make school easier. My first attempt at college ended in failure. I was embarrassed and frustrated. I felt like I had let everyone down. But I came back. I rebuilt my confidence one step at a time. I enrolled in community college, worked part time, studied late into the night, and slowly earned my way back into academic life. Now I have a 3.8 GPA and was recently accepted into a competitive dental hygiene program. This time I am not just surviving, I am excelling. Getting into this program is one of the greatest achievements of my life. But the financial burden is still very real. Dental hygiene school requires costly equipment and tools that are not covered by tuition. Every dollar I earn is stretched thin between living expenses and saving for my program. Despite the challenges, I am determined to complete this journey. I want to work in underserved communities where proper dental care is often overlooked or unaffordable. Oral health is deeply connected to overall health and too many families go without it because they lack access or education. I have seen it firsthand kids with toothaches in the projects, parents skipping cleanings because they cannot afford them. I want to be the provider who meets them without judgment, who understands where they are coming from, and who gives them the care they deserve. I carry with me every struggle my mother and I faced. They fuel my purpose. I am not in this field for prestige or money. I am here because I know what it is like to feel invisible. I want to change that for someone else. This scholarship would provide real needed relief and let me focus more on my studies and future patients. I have come a long way from that kid in the projects with no roadmap. Now I have a mission and I will not stop until I fulfill it.

I was raised by my mother who risked her life crossing on a small boat to come to America. We struggled living in the projects with very little money and many obstacles. Watching her courage and sacrifice shaped my determination to build a better life. After high school I joined the military hoping to find direction. Though I gave it my all, I struggled academically and failed the first time I went to college. That failure hit hard but it also taught me to keep fighting. I came back stronger, focused, and now I have a 3.8 GPA. Recently I was accepted into a dental hygiene program, a step I never thought possible when I was growing up. My experiences growing up in a low income single parent household and my military service have given me resilience and empathy. I want to use my education to improve access to dental care in communities like mine, where so many face hardships and limited opportunities. Every day I work hard balancing school, jobs, and saving for the expensive tools my program requires. I want to be a role model to others from backgrounds like mine showing them that no matter the struggle, success is possible. This scholarship would help ease the financial burden so I can focus more on my studies and community impact. My story is proof that persistence pays off and I am determined to make a positive difference.

One of my greatest achievements is returning to college after failing the first time and earning a 3.8 GPA that helped me get accepted into a dental hygiene program. This achievement feels personal and important because it reflects a long journey of perseverance, hard work, and growth. Growing up as a first-generation American college was something I saw as distant and almost impossible. No one in my family had walked this path before and the financial challenges made it harder. After serving in the military I realized I wanted more for myself and my community. The discipline I learned in the service helped me find the strength to try again. The first time I went back to school I failed. I struggled with balancing work school and life. It was a tough lesson but it taught me that failure is not the end it is a signal to adjust and keep moving forward. When I gave school another chance I did so with focus and determination. I pushed myself harder than ever before. I studied while working low wage jobs saved money for expensive dental hygiene equipment and kept my goals in sight. Getting accepted into my program with strong grades was a moment of pride but also a reminder of how much work lies ahead. This experience taught me that setbacks do not define me and that my background does not limit what I can achieve. It showed me that resilience grit and patience are just as important as intelligence or talent. I also learned how important representation is. In my professional career I have been lucky to be mentored by generous colleagues but leaders from the Latino community remain rare. I want to be part of changing that by succeeding and giving back. My hope for the future is to graduate from dental hygiene school and serve communities like mine that often lack access to quality health care. I want to be a role model for other first generation students showing them that it is possible to overcome financial and social barriers. I also want to mentor students who feel lost or discouraged so they can find their path. Receiving this scholarship would lighten my financial burden and allow me to focus more on my studies and community impact. Education has the power to break cycles of poverty and open doors to opportunity. I am determined to walk through those doors and help others follow behind me.

When I was growing up in a Dominican household college always felt like a far off dream Not because my family did not value education but because we simply did not know how to get there No one in my family had done it before We did not have a roadmap What we had was hard work long hours and a hope that maybe one day something would click I joined the military looking for direction a stable income and a chance to break that cycle The experience gave me discipline and structure but it also made me realize how rare it was to see people who looked like me spoke like me or shared my culture in leadership positions I carried that with me long after I left the service It made me think more seriously about what I could do to help open doors for others in my community After the military I went back to school The first time I failed I did not have the right mindset or support But I did not give up I worked low wage jobs kept saving and eventually gave it another try This time everything changed I found my purpose in dental hygiene I pushed myself harder than ever before and ended up earning a 3.8 GPA Now I have officially been accepted into a competitive dental hygiene program That moment felt huge But it also came with new stress The program requires expensive equipment and supplies things I have to pay for out of pocket As a low income student every dollar counts I am constantly juggling bills rent and tuition But I remind myself that this is bigger than me I am building something for my future family I am showing my community that it is possible Being a first generation Latino college student has taught me that education is not just about personal success It is about creating ripple effects It is about changing what the next generation sees as possible It is about representation being visible in spaces where we are often overlooked The military gave me tools My Dominican upbringing gave me resilience School is giving me the chance to tie it all together into something meaningful I want to graduate serve in underrepresented communities and one day mentor other students like me students who are smart capable and just need someone to show them the way This scholarship would help lighten the financial load and let me keep my focus where it belongs on learning growing and giving back

When I first came out, I did not expect applause. But I also did not expect silence. I come from a background where we do not really talk about things like identity, especially if they make people uncomfortable. I learned quickly how to shrink myself just enough to keep the peace but not so much that I disappeared. It was survival. The military reinforced that. Respect the chain of command. Do not ask. Do not tell. Keep it moving. I served my country with pride, but being LGBTQ+ in that environment felt like walking on a tightrope. I worked hard, did my job well, and stayed under the radar. But even with a strong work ethic and discipline, there was always a fear that being myself would change how people treated me. That fear followed me after I got out. It still shows up sometimes when I enter a new space and wonder if I should be honest about who I am. After leaving the military, I struggled with direction. I enrolled in school, failed, and fell into a string of jobs that paid the bills but left me feeling empty. During this time, a family member had a dental emergency, and I saw firsthand how important oral health is to dignity and self confidence. That moment lit a spark in me. I realized I wanted to help people in a way that is practical but also deeply personal. Now I am back in school with a clear focus. I am studying dental hygiene, not just for a job but for a purpose. I want to be someone who creates safe, affirming spaces, especially for people who have been made to feel small or invisible, whether because of their identity or their circumstances. I have felt that isolation. I know what it is like to walk into a room and scan for signs of safety. I want my future patients to know right away that they are safe with me. Being LGBTQ+ in this world can still be exhausting. There are moments of joy, yes, but also real struggle. Discrimination. Rejection. Doubt. But those experiences have made me more empathetic and resilient. They taught me how to show up for others even when I am still learning how to show up for myself. This scholarship would give me more than just financial relief. It would be a reminder that I belong in this field, that my identity is not a liability but a strength. It would help me stay focused on my goal: to serve with kindness, to work with skill, and to be visible, not in spite of who I am, but because of it.

If you had asked me a few years ago what I wanted to do after getting out of the military, I probably would have given you a blank stare. I didn’t have a plan. I just knew I wanted something more stable than chaos and more meaningful than just punching a clock. The military taught me a lot. How to lead, how to work under pressure, and how to stay grounded when everything around you is shifting. But the biggest lesson I carried with me was this: service does not stop when the uniform comes off. You just find a new way to serve. After I got out, I tried to go back to school thinking it was the obvious next step. I failed. I didn’t have the structure or mindset I needed. Life got in the way. I ended up working low paying jobs and trying to keep my head above water. I felt stuck. That changed when a family member had a dental emergency. I watched how one bad tooth affected everything. Eating, confidence, even the way they smiled. That opened my eyes to how important dental care really is. I realized I wanted to be the one helping in those moments. I wanted to be part of something that directly improves people's lives. Now I am back in school, this time with purpose. I am enrolled in a dental hygiene program and committed to seeing it through. This time, I am not drifting. I have a clear goal. I want to work in a clinic or community health center, especially serving veterans. There are so many vets out there living with untreated dental issues, either because they cannot afford care or because they feel forgotten. I know what it feels like to be overlooked. I want to be the kind of hygienist who makes people feel seen and taken care of. My long term goal is to use my experience and training to give back, not just through treatment but through education. I want to help people understand their health, their options, and their worth. I want to do for others what I wish someone had done for me when I was lost after the military. This scholarship would ease a huge financial burden and help me focus fully on my education. More than that, it would be a vote of confidence in someone who is trying to turn a rough start into something meaningful. The military gave me grit. School is giving me direction. And now, I am ready to serve again, this time with a different kind of uniform and a new set of tools.

I never thought a mouthguard would change my life. Not the kind you wear in combat or on the football field but one I got after a particularly stressful deployment when I realized I had been grinding my teeth down like a chainsaw in overdrive. That small piece of molded plastic was the beginning of my unlikely journey toward dental hygiene. I served in the military during a time when life did not hand out many easy wins. Long nights, unpredictable missions, and the weight of responsibility shaped me into someone who could endure, though not without scars, both visible and not. When I transitioned back to civilian life, I thought I was ready to take on college. I was not. I failed. Miserably. The structure I had relied on was gone, and without it, I drifted. For a while, I bounced between low paying jobs, doing my best to make ends meet. I was frustrated, less with the world and more with myself. But one day, while sitting in the waiting room of a dental clinic, I had a thought that surprised me: This place feels calm. Clean. Purposeful. I saw professionals who genuinely helped people every day, restoring their smiles, their confidence, and sometimes even their health. I wanted to be part of that. So, I went back to school. This time, I came armed with more than a backpack. I had discipline, resilience, and a sense of direction forged in the military and sharpened by hardship. I am now beginning a dental hygiene program with a clear goal: to serve again, but in a different way. I want to provide care that uplifts, educates, and empowers people who might otherwise slip through the cracks, especially fellow veterans. Post graduation, I see myself working in a community based clinic or VA hospital. I want to be the kind of hygienist who does not just clean teeth but listens, connects, and makes people feel seen. I know what it is like to feel invisible. I have been there. And I have learned that sometimes, the most heroic thing you can do is not charging into battle, it is showing up every day with empathy, skill, and a willingness to serve in new ways. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load and allow me to focus on becoming the best clinician and human I can be. Thank you for considering my story.