I arrived in the United States at seven years old with wide eyes, a pounding heart, and a suitcase bigger than me. My aunt held my hand tightly as we moved through the chaos of Dulles Airport in Virginia; her grip was the only familiar thing in a world that felt cold, loud, and overwhelmingly new. My mother had left Nigeria years earlier to find better opportunities, and now it was my turn to begin a chapter neither of us fully understood. As a first-generation immigrant, I grew up aware that I was an outsider to the American education system. I worried about my accent, my English, and whether I could keep up with classmates who seemed effortlessly confident. One of my earliest turning points came in elementary school when I entered my first science fair with a project making “elephant toothpaste.” I spent days experimenting and perfecting my presentation. Winning second place not only gave me pride; it opened my eyes to the joy of discovery. That moment planted the seed for my love of science, a seed that has guided me ever since. I carried that same curiosity and determination with me when I became a biology major at Trinity Washington University, where my interest in scientific inquiry deepened further. Being different also carried painful lessons. I still remember trying pizza for the first time in second grade. I disliked it and quietly threw it away, not understanding its cultural significance. My teacher scolded me in front of the class, and soon I was labeled “African booty scratcher,” a nickname I laughed off but carried heavily inside. It reminded me daily that belonging would not come easily. Instead of shrinking, I turned outward. In high school, community service became a lifeline. Volunteering at food banks exposed me to food insecurity and inequality, and my efforts earned me the Presidential Community Service Award and an ACLU advocacy internship. Listening to advocates, policymakers, nurses, and activists sharing stories of injustice showed me how powerful speaking up can be; and revealed that advocacy is woven into every aspect of community care. That realization led me to nursing. Pursuing nursing allows me to combine my passion for science with hands-on problem-solving, which is why entering a STEAM field feels like a natural continuation of the curiosity I discovered as a child. As a nursing student today, I witness how science, compassion, and advocacy intersect. I have spoken up for patients who couldn’t speak for themselves, called a code when an elderly patient stopped breathing, and ensured patient concerns were heard during medical rounds. These experiences show how my identity; shaped by displacement, misunderstanding, and resilience, prepared me to advocate for those whose voices are often overlooked. My hope for higher education is to become a nurse who drives change in communities like the one that raised me: immigrants, Black and Brown families, and people too often unseen in healthcare spaces. My fear is failing to break cycles that once tried to define me, but my journey so far is proof that resilience is stronger than fear. When I imagined my American dream as a child, I didn’t know the journey would shape me so profoundly. Now, standing at the edge of higher education, I am ready, not simply to continue my own story, but to uplift others through it.

The night everything shifted for me began on a crowded Metro bus, my backpack digging into my shoulders, the faint smell of fryer oil clinging to my clothes from my evening shift. My legs ached from standing all day, and the low hum of the engine mixed with the passenger's chatter into a dull, relentless roar. I pulled out my phone, expecting maybe a text from my mom, but a voicemail from the financial aid office blinked on the screen. My stomach sank as I pressed play. The voice was calm, almost detached: Your financial aid appeal has been denied. The words hit harder than the swaying bus. I gripped my backpack and closed my eyes, trying to steady my racing heart. I had been juggling two part-time jobs, commuting hours on the bus each day, and squeezing in homework wherever I could. And now, after all that effort, it felt like my dream of staying in school was slipping through my fingers. I didn't cry, I didn't move. I just whispered, 'God... what am I supposed to do now? it wasn't a polished prayer; it was the quiet voice of someone standing on the edge of giving up. That night was my challenge. Not just the denied aid, but the fear that after all my sacrifices, I might still fail. Faith wasn't new to me, but leaning on it like this, clinging to it when everything felt unstable; was. I closed my eyes and prayed for clarity and courage; not for money or a miracle, but for the strength to keep moving forward. The next morning I acted. I swallowed my pride and asked for help. I spoke with my pastor, who prayed with me and connected me to emergency support through our church. My academic advisor told me about a departmental scholarship I hadn't known existed. Even the family I babysit for offered extra hours. Step by step, support appeared, as though God was placing stepping stones beneath my feet just as I feared I might fall. Two weeks later, an email arrived that made me catch my breath: I had been awarded the scholarship. It didn't solve everything, but it kept me enrolled. It kept my dream alive. And it reminded me that challenges don't disappear simply because you have faith; faith gives you the strength to rise above them. That season shaped who I am today. My ambition is to finish my education and graduate as a nurse. Nursing calls me to serve others in their most vulnerable moments, just as others were there for me when I needed it most. I want to bring hope into rooms filled with fear, calm into moments of uncertainty, and compassion into lives that need it. That night on the Metro bus didn't break me. It built me. And the faith that carried me through it is the same faith that drives me forward, toward a future where I can care for others with purpose, resilience, and heart. I hope to honor Nabi Nicole's legacy not only by living out my faith and ambition but by becoming the kind of mentor, guide, and steady presence for others that she was for so many.

Full Circle: from Help to Healing _________________________________ Growing up in a single-parent household was not easy. My mom worked part-time due to her health issues to keep food on the table, and there were times when we had to rely on food banks to get by. I still remember standing beside her in those long lines,holding her hand, and promising that one day I'd help others the way people were helping us. Even though money was tight, our community in Washington, D.C. surrounded us with love and support. Those experiences taught me the importance of kindness,resilience,and giving back. That's what led me to volunteer at Christ House in D.C., a place that provides care for people experiencing homelessness and serious illness. At first, I served meals and organized donations, but over time I began to see the power of compassion in action. I watched nurses care for patients with gentleness and patience, treating every person with dignity. It was there that I knew I wanted to become a nurse. I realize that nursing is not just a job, it is a way for me to give back to the community that supported me when I was a child. Now, as a nursing student at Johns Hopkins University School of Nursing, I am trained by my preceptors during clinicals and class work, learning how to provide care that goes beyond medicine. I want to bring that same compassion to families in Washington, D.C., helping them feel supported and valued during difficult times. I'm working hard in school and clinicals to build my nursing career. I would be grateful if the Lotus Scholarship could help with essential costs and remind me that perseverance matters. I'm proud of where I come from; it taught me empathy, strength, and the importance of giving back.

Where Compassion Leads _____________________________ As a nursing student, the first time I cared for a cancer patient, I learned that leadership in nursing doesn’t begin with authority; it begins with empathy. During my clinical rotation on the med-surg/oncology unit, I met a woman recovering from breast cancer surgery. Her body was weak, her voice soft, yet her eyes carried quiet determination. That morning, I gave her a bed bath and helped her walk to the bathroom. As I steadied her arm, she looked up at me and whispered, “Thank you for treating me like I’m still me.” That moment changed my understanding of what it means to be a nurse. It wasn’t about the task itself; it was about connection, respect, and restoring dignity when illness threatens to take it away. I realized that nursing is not only the science of care, but the courage to see and honor the person behind the diagnosis. From that day forward, I knew that this was the work I wanted to dedicate my life to bringing both skill and compassion to every patient I serve. My path to nursing began long before I entered the Johns Hopkins School of Nursing. Years earlier, I watched nurses care for my aunt, who was diagnosed with breast cancer. During long and difficult hospital stays, I witnessed how compassion could transform fear into calm and uncertainty into trust. The nurses who cared for my aunt weren’t just professionals; they were advocates, educators, and sources of comfort. They didn’t just change IV bags or record vitals; they changed how my family felt. Their competence built confidence, and their warmth built hope. Their strength and humanity inspired my ambition to follow the same path. My experiences at Johns Hopkins have since transformed that ambition into a clear purpose: to become a nurse leader who blends empathy with excellence. Throughout my clinical rotations at Hopkins, I’ve been surrounded by mentors and peers who challenge me to think bigger about healthcare systems, patient equity, and leadership beyond the bedside. My coursework and experiences have shown me that nursing excellence isn’t only about providing care; it’s about driving change, listening deeply, and inspiring trust in moments of fear. I’m especially inspired by nurses who advocate for evidence-based practice, mentor younger clinicians, and use their voices to influence policy. I hope to follow in their footsteps, advancing hands-on care in oncology and patient safety through both research and compassionate leadership. Beyond nursing, music is where I find balance and clarity. I’ve played the violin since childhood, and it continues to teach me focus, discipline, and emotional awareness; qualities that mirror the rhythm of nursing. When I listen to or play music after a long clinical shift, it helps me stay grounded, creative, and attuned to the emotional dimensions of care. The violin has always been my way of finding balance between precision and emotion, much like nursing itself. When I draw the bow across the strings, I’m reminded of the discipline, patience, and sensitivity it takes to create harmony. Each note requires control and technique, but the soul of the music comes from feeling. Nursing feels the same way: the best care comes not only from skill, but from the heart. Music keeps me centered, helping me manage the emotional weight of caregiving while reminding me of the beauty of connection: between notes, and between people. The story of Mary Jane Beck deeply resonates with me because her strength, and the compassion shown by the nurses who cared for her, capture the essence of what I strive for in my career. Her journey reminds me that nursing is about more than curing; it’s about comforting. It’s about showing up with both courage and gentleness, bringing light to others even in the hardest moments. I hope to carry forward the spirit of Mary Jane Beck by becoming a nurse who leads not only with expertise, but with kindness; a nurse who listens deeply, acts with courage, and brings dignity and hope to every patient’s story.

Mamalee Milton Eligibility Requirements Do Not Define Me. I chose to live my American dream without eligibility requirements hindering my progress because I decide to create an innovative space for myself where I thrive, appreciate the community I live in, and extend a loving hand to those in need. Like other dreamers, I have faced a lot of challenges due to my status either academically or socially. The most outstanding rejection theme being eligibility criteria and to some extent ‘thank you for applying’. I live with my mother who works a cash job as a kitchen staff in a restaurant. Due to her ill health, I feel obligated to help financially to offset some of the bills. However, I find that no matter how hard we try, our family struggles with poverty and our future seems uncertain. There are days where I must stand in a long line to get a bag of groceries from the food bank; not what we crave or would love to eat, but just to keep the hunger at bay to survive the day. Moreover, the memory of my mother being taken to court because we did not have enough money for rent was disheartening. This was because our status and eligibility criteria prevented our family from accessing resources in the community. I felt like we were walking in circles and my potential was limited. After being rejected severally from paid internships, I did not allow eligibility criteria to define me, but went ahead and applied to community services and unpaid internships with organizations that were welcoming to dreamers, and I opted for valuable experience to advance my academic career, and this earned me the President’s Volunteer Service Award. I volunteered at the Nurse’s station at Christ House, an organization in the Washington, D.C. that provides compassionate care to people experiencing homelessness with acute medical needs. In this position, I was able to interact with nurses as well as the patients and understood their need for care as they shared their stories and struggles in life. I was assigned to make a schedule to remind patients to take their medications and to place a call for them to reach their family members for emotional support. This experience taught me resilience, awakened my compassionate mind, and helped me to live wisely in good and bad times. The attending nurses provided quality care that inspired me to seek a career in nursing; and currently, I am a nursing student at Johns Hopkins University. I choose to live my American dream on a solid foundation to support my desire to help others find specialist support for their healthcare needs in my community. Since healthcare practices keeps evolving, my professional goals are to optimize my efficiency in the nursing field by developing and improving my skills to remain competitive, provide quality care to my patients, and get certified to validate my knowledge and skills to practice higher standards of care to people in need of healthcare. I have the determination to walk in the path of knowledge. My community and my family have demonstrated their support towards me at different levels of my life and educational journey. Using my college training to give back is one of the ways I anticipate showing my heartfelt appreciation for the love, support, and encouragement I received growing up. If awarded the American Dream Scholarship, it will positively impact my college experience and help me to focus and finish my degree. I am determined, I am born ready.