My field of study—public health and wellness with a focus on community advocacy—was born from the lived experience of an intimate partner violence survivor. As a queer Native Hawaiian and Filipina survivor of intimate partner violence, I have seen firsthand how systems fail marginalized communities. At age 15, I was sexually assaulted by someone in my community that my family and I trusted like a brother. And again, at age 25 by a romantic partner. Both times, cultural stigma and institutional barriers silenced me and took away any chance of closure or justice. These wounds fuel my mission to use education as a tool to dismantle the cycles of violence that disproportionately harm LGBTQ+, Indigenous, black, brown, and low-income communities. Health equity isn’t just policy to me—it’s survival and the livelihood of at-risk populations. Over the next five years, I will bridge these gaps in care by developing programs that honor cultural identity while addressing disparities in mental health, public health prevention, Indigenous ecosystem restoration and gender-affirming care. I will launch a non-profit partnering with hospitals in Hawai’i to train and ensure healthcare worker’s cultural competency, while advocating for state policies to fund mental health programs and schools for marginalized and low-class youth and families. Imagine clinics where queer Indigenous youth see their traditions reflected in treatment, or outreach workers who speak their languages. Change starts when advocacy is as diverse as our community. Like my hero Haunani-Kay Trask, I center those who have been silenced by colonial systems— not just as victims, but as leaders of their own liberation. Receiving this scholarship would cause waves in the generational trauma my family and I have faced as Native Hawaiians, Filipinos and IPV survivors living in America—directly giving me the power to break the cycle of poverty and pursue higher education without barriers. Financially, it would alleviate the burden of working multiple jobs, allowing me to focus fully on my studies in public health and immerse myself in advocacy work. Symbolically, it would send a powerful message to underserved youth that the leadership of queer, Indigenous, and marginalized voices matter in spaces where we’ve historically been silenced—and that they can be given resources and accessibility to break that pattern as well. It would be a privilege to serve as a Community Health Advocate, and for my lived experience to be a mirrored image to the youth and families I serve. This investment would directly fuel my education and community advocacy—whether by funding community health education workshops for IPV survivors at the University of Portland’s Women’s center, supporting public health prevention research, or ensuring I can pursue internships and volunteer work that prioritize underserved populations while being a full-time student. Most importantly, it would reaffirm that my mission—to bridge gaps in care for those who’ve been forgotten—is worth pursuing and valued by educational funding organizations. This would deeply inspire me to continue my work, and with this support, I would heal my past self—the teenager who once believed she’d never have an opportunity to achieve her life purpose.

My field of study—public health and wellness with a focus on community advocacy is deeply personal to me. As a marginalized queer person from a Native Hawaiian and Filipino family, I’ve witnessed how systemic neglect harms both Indigenous environmental ecosystems and generations of LGBTQ+ communities, especially those who are Pacific Islander, Asian, or low-income. Unfortunately, cultural stigma and lack of accessibility in education, government and social institutions often leaves asian, black, brown, LGBTQ+ and working-class populations needs unmet or even exploited by the school to prison pipeline. True environmental justice includes dismantling systems that pollute marginalized bodies. By redefining environmentalism through the lens of public health, we heal ecosystems of oppression by protecting not only land and resources but also the marginalized bodies disproportionately burdened by pollution and colonial violence. My work reclaims wellness by restoring Indigenous food sovereignty, providing aid to war-torn countries, and the creation of LGBTQ+ safe spaces in hospitals—all forms of environmental repair. Over the next five years, I will bridge these gaps in care by developing programs that honor cultural identity while addressing disparities in mental health, public health prevention, Indigenous ecosystem restoration and gender-affirming care. I will launch a non-profit partnering with hospitals in the Hawaiian Islands to train and ensure healthcare worker’s cultural competency, while advocating for state policies to fund mental health programs and schools for marginalized and low-class youth and families. Imagine clinics where queer Indigenous youth see their traditions reflected in treatment, or outreach workers who speak their languages. Change starts when advocacy is as diverse as our community. Like my hero Haunani-Kay Trask, I center those who have been silenced by colonial systems— not just as victims, but as leaders of their own liberation. Receiving this scholarship would cause waves in the generational trauma my family and I have faced as Native Hawaiians and Filipinos living in America—directly giving me the power to break the cycle of poverty and pursue higher education without barriers. Financially, it would alleviate the burden of working multiple jobs, allowing me to focus fully on my studies in public health and immerse myself in advocacy work. Symbolically, it would send a powerful message to underserved youth that the leadership of queer, Indigenous, and marginalized voices matter in spaces where we’ve historically been silenced—and that they can be given resources and accessibility to break that pattern as well. This investment would directly fuel my education and community advocacy—whether by funding community health education workshops, supporting public health prevention research, or ensuring I can pursue internships and volunteer work that prioritize underserved populations while being a full-time student. Most importantly, it would reaffirm that my mission—to bridge gaps in care for those who’ve been forgotten—is worth pursuing and valued by organizations like Flik Hospitality Group. This would deeply inspire me to continue my work, and with this support, I would heal my past self—the teenager who once believed she’d never have an opportunity to achieve her life purpose.