The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen, this sound echoed in my ears when I told my mother I would leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up, blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. From that moment on, I became her "rising star," her golden child. The fear of losing another parent allowed me to suppress my distaste for the stage for a time. But after ten years of having my words, clothes, preferences, and schedule dictated, I walked away—uncertain but hopeful for a better future. Being homeless was challenging, yet amid the financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, allowing me to resume my education, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC), an institution dedicated to helping students "find their place." By the fall of 2020, I enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program. During my first clinical rotation, I often found myself in the diagnostic lab during downtime. The lab techs had access to PubMed and generously printed research papers for me. As a full-time student living off dwindling savings, I seized the opportunity. In a time of uncertainty, those journals assuaged my anxieties and ignited my passion for research. Soon, I began dreaming of trading in my stethoscope for a pipette. This experience led me to pursue an internship at the University of Alabama in Birmingham, where I worked in a facility dedicated to investigating neurodegenerative diseases. On my first day, clad in an oversized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand and a well plate in my left, I already felt like a true agent for change. Over the months spent in that lab, every western blot, activity assay, and dissection clarified our understanding of neurodegeneration, revealing long-held unknowns and bringing hope to families affected by cognitive anomalies. This research earned state and national honors and cultivated a community I never knew I needed. At the end of the internship and my time at JSCC, I realized that my professional calling wasn't just to treat diseases but to cure them. JSCC is where I found my place; Stanford University in California is where I will bring that calling to life. As I prepare to begin classes as a junior in the fall of 2024, I am committed to advancing the field of neuroscience while building a comprehensive support network for fellow low-income, first-generation, underrepresented students in STEM. This initiative will provide academic mentorship, emotional resilience, and professional development. If awarded the scholarship, I will use the funds to develop and promote this network, ensuring that all students can succeed in their ambitions and serve society to their total capacity.

The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen, this sound echoed in my ears when I told my mother I would leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up, blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. From that moment on, I became her "rising star," her golden child. The fear of losing another parent allowed me to suppress my distaste for the stage for a time. But after ten years of my words, clothes, preferences, and schedule being dictated, I walked away, uncertain but hopeful for a better future. Being homeless was challenging, yet amid the financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, allowing me to resume my education, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC), an institution dedicated to helping students "find their place." By the fall of 2020, I enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program. During my first clinical rotation, I often found myself in the diagnostic lab during downtime. The lab techs had access to PubMed and generously printed research papers for me. As a full-time student living off dwindling savings, I seized the opportunity to gather free scientific literature. In a time of uncertainty, those journals assuaged my anxieties and ignited my passion for research. Soon, I began dreaming of trading in my stethoscope for a pipette. This experience led me to pursue an internship at the University of Alabama in Birmingham, where I worked in a facility dedicated to investigating neurodegenerative diseases. On my first day, clad in an oversized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand and a well plate in my left, I already felt like a true agent for change. Over the months spent in that lab, every western blot, activity assay, and dissection clarified our understanding of neurodegeneration, revealing long-held unknowns and bringing hope to families affected by cognitive anomalies. This research not only earned state and national honors but also cultivated a community I never knew I needed. At the end of my time at JSCC, I realized that my professional calling wasn't just to treat diseases but to cure them. JSCC is where I found my place; Stanford University in California is where I will bring that calling to life. As I prepare to begin classes as a junior in the fall of 2024, I am committed to continuing my hard work, persistence, and willingness to walk a path aberrant from most but true to myself. What drives me forward, despite the financial hardships of transitioning from a part-time to a full-time student, is the belief that if I succeed, my journey as a first-generation, non-traditional-age, low-income student will inspire people from diverse backgrounds to not give up on the idea that it is never too late for a second chance. If awarded the Second Chance Scholarship, I will use this opportunity to further my education and professional development. In turn, I plan to pay it forward by mentoring other underrepresented STEM students facing adversity, showing them that their potential is limitless and that our aspirations are within reach if they have the courage to pursue them and the grit to persevere.

The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen, this sound echoed in my ears when I told my mother I would leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up, blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's potential for engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. From that moment, moving forward, I was her "rising star," her golden child. The fear of losing another parent allowed me to swallow my distaste for the stage for a time. But after ten years of my words, clothes, preferences, and schedule being assigned, I walked away, unsure of myself but positive there was a better future for me. Being homeless was hard, but amidst financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, enabling me to resume classes, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC), an institution dedicated to helping students "find their place." By the fall of 2020, I had enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program. During my first clinical rotation, I consistently found myself in the diagnostic lab during downtime. In this facility, the lab techs had access to PubMed and were willing to print off research papers for me. As a full-time student living off my dwindling savings account, I capitalized on the opportunity to garner free scientific literature. In a time of trepidation catalyzed by the unknown, those journals assuaged my anxieties. Soon, I began daydreaming of trading in my stethoscope for a pipette. This experience led me to pursue an internship with the University of Alabama in Birmingham, where I worked in a facility dedicated to investigating neurodegenerative diseases. On my first day, clad in an oversized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand, a well plate in my left, and enduring marks from the indentations of goggles on my forehead and nose, I already felt like a true agent for change. Over the months spent in that lab, every western blot, activity assay, and dissection I performed clarified our understanding of neurodegeneration, revealing long-held unknowns, bringing hope to families affected by cognitive anomalies, and filling me with the sense of purpose I had long craved. This research would yield state and national honors and cultivate a community I never knew I needed. At the end of my time at JSCC, I realized that my professional calling wasn't just to treat diseases but to cure them. JSCC is where I found my place; Stanford University in California is where I will bring that calling to life. As I prepare to begin classes as a junior in the fall of 2024, I am committed to continue embracing hard work, persistence, and the courage to walk a path aberrant to most but true to myself. What drives me forward in this goal, despite the financial hardships that come with having to transition from a part-time to a full-time student, is the desire that if I succeed, my work as a scientist—and my journey as a first-generation, low-income student—will inspire others to never give up, despite their daunting odds or dark circumstances, on the belief that better days lie ahead.

The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen, this noise echoed when I told my mother I would leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up, blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's potential for engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. From that moment, moving forward, I was her "rising star," her golden child. The fear of losing another parent allowed me to swallow my distaste for the stage for a time. But after ten years of my words, clothes, preferences, and schedule being assigned, I walked away, unsure of myself but positive there was a better future for me. Being homeless was hard, but amidst financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, enabling me to resume classes, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC), an institution dedicated to helping their students "find their place." By the fall of 2020, I had enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program.  During my first month of clinical rotations, I found myself in the diagnostic lab during meal breaks to read PubMed articles. In a time of chaos, those journals soothed my anxieties. This led me to pursue an internship with the University of Alabama in Birmingham, where I worked in a facility dedicated to investigating neurodegenerative disease.  On my first day,  clad in an oversized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand, a well plate in my left, and enduring marks from the indentations of goggles on my forehead and nose, I felt like a true agent for change. Over the months spent in that lab, every western blot, activity assay, and dissection I performed clarified our understanding of neurodegeneration, revealing long-held unknowns, bringing hope to families affected by cognitive anomalies, and filling me with the sense of purpose I had long craved. After my time at JSCC, it was as revealing as it was terrifying, I found my place.  I realized my professional calling wasn't to treat diseases but to cure them. As I complete my four-year degree at Stanford University, I'm committed to turning this realization into reality. Determination, tenacity, and the willingness to embrace an unconventional path helped me find my calling. What drives me forward in this goal, despite the financial hardships, is the belief that if I succeed, my work as a scientist—and my journey as a first-generation, low-income student—will inspire others to, despite the odds or circumstances, embrace hard work and dedication, allowing them to access the better days that lie ahead.

The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen, this noise echoed when I told my mother I would leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up, blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's potential for engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. From that moment, moving forward, I was her "rising star," her golden child. The fear of losing another parent allowed me to swallow my distaste for the stage for a time. But after ten years of my words, clothes, preferences, and schedule being assigned, I walked away, unsure of myself but positive there was a better future for me. Being homeless was hard, but amidst financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, enabling me to resume classes, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC), an institution dedicated to helping their students "find their place." By the fall of 2020, I had enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program.  During my first month of clinical rotations, I found myself in the diagnostic lab during meal breaks to read PubMed articles. In a time of chaos, those journals soothed my anxieties. This led me to pursue an internship with the University of Alabama in Birmingham, where I worked in a facility dedicated to investigating neurodegenerative disease.  On my first day,  clad in an oversized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand, a well plate in my left, and enduring marks from the indentations of goggles on my forehead and nose, I felt like a true agent for change. Over the months spent in that lab, every western blot, activity assay, and dissection I performed clarified our understanding of neurodegeneration, revealing long-held unknowns, bringing hope to families affected by cognitive anomalies, and filling me with the sense of purpose I had long craved. After my time at JSCC, it was as revealing as it was terrifying, I found my place.  I realized my professional calling wasn't to treat diseases but to cure them. As I complete my four-year degree at Stanford University, I'm committed to turning this realization into reality. Determination, tenacity, and the willingness to embrace an unconventional path helped me find my calling. What drives me forward in this goal is the belief that if I succeed, my work as a scientist—and my journey as a first-generation, low-income student—will inspire others to, despite the odds or circumstances, embrace hard work and dedication, allowing them to access the better days that lie ahead.

The dial tone is a standardized dual-frequency signal, composed of two continuous sine waves—one at 350 hertz (Hz) and the other at 440 Hz. At eighteen years old, this noise echoed in my ears when I told my mother I was going to leave acting. It marked the end of our last conversation. Growing up blank stares and curt replies characterized my mother's potential for engagement with me until a casting agent recognized my promise as an actress. With each show I booked, every acting competition won, invitation to a SAG event and celebrity friendship gained, her attachment to me grew. When I mentioned concerns over the future I was crafting for myself my mother assured me no matter what she would never let me fail. Fearing the loss of another parent, I faced the overbearing theater lights, wore stage makeup and rehearsed lines until I felt numb. I capitulated until I couldn’t. After ten years of my words, clothes, preferences and schedule being assigned to me I unsteadily walked away from the theater world, unsure of myself but positive there was a better future out there for me. Being homeless was hard, but during my most vulnerable moments I encountered all the right people at all the right times. When I needed a place to sleep, friends generously offered their couches and guest rooms. When seeking emotional support, my sister always answered my calls. Amidst financial hardships, I was fortunate to secure a scholarship for trade school, enabling me to resume classes, even if it meant just one course per semester. My persistence paid off when I received a scholarship from Jefferson State Community College (JSCC). By the Fall of 2020, I enrolled in the JSCC respiratory therapy program. During my first month of clinical rotations, I would sneak into the diagnostic lab during meal breaks to read PubMed articles. In a time of chaos, those journals soothed my anxieties. I soon began to daydream of trading in my stethoscope for a pipette. This led me to pursue an internship with the University of Alabama in Birmingham where I worked in a facility dedicated to the investigation of neurodegenerative disease. With every western blot, activity assay, and dissection performed, I felt one step closer to discovery. In my mind, clad in an over-sized lab coat with a reagent in my right hand, a well plate in my left, and enduring marks from the indentations of goggles on my forehead and nose, I was a true agent for change. After the internship, I began shadowing neurosurgeons to gain a deeper understanding of the mind. “You’ll be good to do the next one, right?” Dr. Rozelle asked with a half smile, looking up from the patient’s brain he had just operated on. “I didn’t see her blink throughout the whole procedure.” commented Becca, the surgery technician. She was right. In the span of forty minutes, I watched a young girl have her chances of living a quality life increase by 70%. How could anyone not expect me to stare? I had just witnessed a miracle. It took ten years to get my life back on track. In that time, through education, I gained autonomy and found pieces of myself that were buried all those years ago. Today, I am sure of the life I desire—one where I can employ my aptitude and passion for research to become a world-class scientist engineering neurological treatments that save lives. Miracles, one after another, saved me, and now I eagerly anticipate the day I can be that miracle for someone else.

As I picked up the microphone in my left hand and held my Chappell Roan-inspired wig steady on my head with my right, I laughed to myself at how far I had come. Ten years ago, if you had told me I would be the opening act for my town's local drag show, I would have told you to find God. I never needed verbal confirmation. The look of disgust from my mother at same-sex couples in movie theaters and my father's proud, archaic interpretation of the Bible were enough for me to understand from a young age that I was flawed. As an Alabama native, I knew "only the squeaky wheel gets attention," so I coped by keeping quiet and staying isolated. Silence and solitude protected me; dodging speculation is easy when you're deemed too shy to socialize or insular to analyze. Though my coping mechanisms shielded me from the threat of conversion therapy, physical assault, and slurs, they created a resentment for my family so severe that, at 18, I found myself voluntarily checking into a homeless shelter. Though I was free from the threat of judgment, old habits die hard. I kept my head down as I worked odd jobs to put myself through community college and initially began taking classes. But with each academic accolade, walking with my shoulders back and eyes high became easier. And though still timid, I gained the confidence to begin speaking with my actions. In 2019, I joined the Jefferson State Community College Ambassadors. There, I raised over five thousand dollars for Birmingham AIDS Outreach, began to fight transphobic legislation in my home state, and dedicated over 100 hours of community service to the Magic City Acceptance Center, which provides wellness and medical care for the LGBTQIA+ community. Lending a helping hand in their food pantry, clothes closet, and clinic led to weekend potlucks, PRIDE-inspired movie nights, and midnight heart-to-hearts that brought me closer to people who saw me for more than one characteristic of my personality. Those moments of camaraderie, laughter, and shared experiences were the lifeblood of my newfound community. They empowered me to embrace not just my sexuality but my entire identity. With a support system behind me, I began to branch out into fields of study I once thought were beyond my intellectual capabilities, diving into STEM. This was the catalyst I needed to commit to majoring in biology to pursue a career in research. My work in this field as an undergraduate yielded state and national recognition and the opportunity to transfer from my community college to Stanford University this fall. Talent is universal, but the self-assurance that was the vehicle for my success is a privilege only afforded to me by the community I discovered by chance. I found my team at the Magic City Acceptance Center, and I see Chappell Roan as our mascot. The antithesis of the suppression so many in the queer community have become accustomed to, Roan roars her truth with a bold courage that encourages others like her to do the same. Her art is iconoclastic, with a larger-than-life persona, flamboyant exterior, and powerful voice that shines a light on the beauty, fun, and happiness that can come from embracing oneself. Inspired, I now stand on a stage with the beginning chords of "Supernova" starting, the bright lights illuminating my face. I feel a sense of liberation that I once thought impossible, pride in how far I've come, and determination to show others that what you can gain from seizing authenticity is worth experiencing the initial fear of being seen.