My name is Mariam Kolley, and I am a psychology major on the pre-law track at Howard University—a place I’d choose in every lifetime, because it’s the first place where I have felt fully seen, fully understood, and fully empowered to dream bigger than my circumstances. I come from a family of builders. My parents built our lives from the ground up with nothing but faith, relentless work, and an unshakable belief that tomorrow could always be better. I carry their sacrifices like a compass, guiding me toward a future where their dreams and mine intertwine. For much of my life, I was the only Black student in my classrooms. I excelled, but I longed for a shared community, one where my culture wasn’t something to explain, but something celebrated. When I arrived at Howard, I found more than a school; I found home. I found a space that nurtures Black brilliance and dares us to see ourselves as the future’s changemakers. And that’s exactly who I intend to be. I have always been drawn to the intersection of law and humanity. Through my studies, I have seen how the law can protect but also harm, how policies can feel distant but touch real lives in deeply personal ways. My dream is to become a judge. Not just to interpret the law, but to bring compassion to it, to ensure that fairness and humanity are never lost in the shuffle of paperwork and procedure. Howard has already given me opportunities that shaped that dream. I became one of only four students chosen to shadow the State Attorney of Florida, standing in courtrooms where real lives hung in the balance. I became the 4th best speaker in the nation through speech and debate, delivering my award-winning speech, The Game of Justice, which challenged the death penalty and sparked conversations far beyond the tournament stage. But my work won’t stop at the courtroom. I am also an author. I published my book, Remember, in 2023, a poetry collection that journeys from darkness to light. The pages start black and end white, symbolizing that even in the heaviest moments, healing is possible. Through my words, I advocate for mental health, breaking stigma and helping others feel seen. With my education, I hope to bridge gaps: between policy and people, justice and mercy, law and empathy. The world needs leaders who don’t just want power, but want to heal, and that is the kind of leader I am determined to become.

There have been moments in my life when hopelessness felt louder than my dreams. Times when the weight of expectations, bills, and the future made me wonder if I could really do this, if I could fight for the kind of life I envision without being crushed by debt along the way. But every time I’ve felt like giving up, I’ve returned to the same truth: I am my parents’ dream. And I refuse to let that dream die. My parents built us up from nothing. They worked through sleepless nights and unrelenting obstacles so their children could reach further than they ever imagined. Every scholarship, every book I read, every position I earn, it’s not just for me. It’s for them. It’s for the sacrifices they made and for the little girl I used to be, who believed education could open the world. That belief has carried me through fear. I’m terrified of drowning in student loans, of watching debt dictate my choices instead of passion. But instead of letting that fear paralyze me, I’ve used it as fuel. I wrote and published a book to advocate for mental health, turning my own struggles into words that could comfort and empower others. I’ve taken on internships and leadership roles—each one teaching me how to serve, how to speak up, how to lead. Every project I take on isn’t just for a résumé; it’s a brick in the foundation of the life I’m building. As a pre-law psychology major, I dream of becoming an advocate in every sense of the word. someone who uses knowledge of law and the human mind to fight for justice and dignity. I want to work in courtrooms, in policy spaces, and in communities that have been overlooked, using every ounce of my education to level the playing field for people who’ve been told they don’t have a chance. I still have faith that this is possible. Faith that the sleepless nights will be worth it. Faith that scholarships like this one aren’t just applications, they’re lifelines. This scholarship wouldn’t just ease the cost of my education, it would protect the purpose behind it. It would allow me to say “yes” to internships that build impact instead of income, to leadership roles that shape change, and to opportunities that turn my faith into action. I carry my parents’ dreams, my own, and the dreams of those I want to serve. With your support, I won’t just reach them; I’ll help others find theirs too.