As a consumer psychologist in market research, I’m passionate about making sure all groups of people are included in the analytics process. Once in class, we studied a case where Black people were completely left out of the design and marketing of a product. And no one even questioned it. That moment sparked something in me. I decided I’m going to be the person in the room who makes sure everyone is thought of and included. Beyond my own success, I want to open a scholarship fund for first-generation Black students who, like me, rely entirely on financial aid and scholarships to pursue their dreams. Being Black means to me, being the strongest in the room, the one who’s had to work the hardest, who carries a rich, diverse cultural background, who’s full of talents, and who wears the most beautiful skin. I chose to attend my HBCU, the illustrious North Carolina A&T, because of the deep sense of family. That “we’re all in this together” feeling. Everyone holds everyone up there. It’s a culture I know I wouldn’t have felt at any PWI. I walk into every class feeling free. No judgment, no code-switching, no need to be on guard. Just me. Plus, paired with the fact that I can get my hair and nails done right-down the hall from my dorm, it was no brainer.

Orientation Week taught me two things. One, I get lost easily, and two, finding your way is part of the process. I stepped onto campus ready for it all, but I didn’t realize the real journey would be discovering who I am along the way. In one year, I found friendships that made me braver, opportunities that sparked my love for leadership, and persistence in myself I didn’t know existed. I came to college hoping to become someone smart, compassionate, and capable, and I believe I’m on my way there. I didn’t come to college looking for a new support system but somehow, they found me. It started with an invitation to a late-night study sesh from my new friend Candace, who I met during orientation. What I thought would be a quiet night with flashcards turned into nine freshmen squeezed into a dorm room, talking about everything except homework. That night became something bigger, a group of friends who challenged me, believed in me, and pushed me to be the best version of myself. (And yes, between laughter, deep talks, and snack breaks, we actually did study.) Through them, I learned how to show up for others and more importantly, how to let others show up for me. I made it a tradition to hold weekly study sessions that brought everyone together, helping us all stay on track. These friendships didn’t just make college feel like home; they helped me see the best version of myself. Even before I did. I didn’t plan on becoming a leader, I just saw something that needed doing, and I did it. It started when I applied to be an intern for my school’s Residence Hall Association and somehow got appointed East Campus President of RHA’s Community Council instead. At first, I had no idea what I was doing. I figured it out as I went, with gut instinct and maybe a little panic. But I flourished. I remember my first event “Meet the Council.” Students came to meet us and share ideas for future events or dorm issues like roommate conflicts, plumbing problems, or noise at night. I took everyone’s concerns to my higher-ups to get the attention they deserved. That experience taught me leadership isn’t about being the loudest in the room. It’s about listening, showing up, and making sure everyone feels seen. I won the MVP G.A.L.A. award, voted Member of the Month, and most importantly, felt truly appreciated and recognized as a leader. That moment made me realize I actually like this. I like organizing, speaking up, and helping people feel included. I didn’t see myself as a leader before. Now I can’t unsee it. With all those good moments, college hasn’t always been easy. There were times when the pressure felt overwhelming juggling classes, leadership, and my mental health. I remember during spring semester I fell into a freeze state. I didn’t want to get out of bed or see my friends who loved and supported me. I had no energy for anything. But giving up was never an option. I reminded myself why I started, the dream of becoming the educated, caring, and capable woman I’ve always wanted to be. Each obstacle became a lesson. I learned to ask for help, be kinder to myself, and use what I’ve been through to help others facing struggles. This scholarship means more than financial support. It’s the chance to keep persisting forward, relieve some stress on my mental health caused by financial need, and continue more good moments with my friends at school. Thank You - Messiah

When I walked into my first college classroom, I wasn’t just carrying a backpack ,I was carrying generations. The night before, I sat on my dorm bed Googling: *What do I need for college? There was no blueprint. No group chat full of advice. Just me, a first-gen Black woman, piecing it together one unanswered question at a time. That experience defines why I’m pursuing a degree in the mental health field. As a proud Black woman and Psychology major at North Carolina A\&T, the nation’s top-ranked public HBCU, I strive to lead with purpose and resilience. I serve on multiple councils and executive boards, creating space for student voices and building community. To me, leadership is a responsibility, not recognition — it’s about who I can uplift, not what I can list. I’m studying Psychology with the goal of becoming an Industrial-Organizational Psychologist. I plan to earn both my Master’s and Ph.D., not to sit at the table, but to reshape the table entirely, centering mental health, inclusion, and humanity in the workplace. I want to help transform company cultures that have historically ignored or undervalued the well-being of people who look like me. As a first-generation college student, I know the financial weight of education without a safety net. Each semester has been a leap of faith. But that journey has fueled my desire to give back. Scholarships and support have not only kept me in school — they’ve affirmed that my dreams are valid. That’s why I plan to create a scholarship fund for students like me — offering not just money, but mentorship and a lifeline. Charity matters to me because I’ve lived the difference it makes. I’ve seen how one “yes” can change the course of someone’s life. I don’t just want to succeed; I want to lift others as I rise. I’m also minoring in Marketing with a goal of becoming a Consumer Psychologist; not just to understand decision-making, but to disrupt how brands treat people who look like me. In a recent class, we studied a campaign that completely excluded women of color; and no one in the room questioned it. That moment confirmed what I already knew: I don’t want to just be in the room. I want to change the conversation. I brought that same drive into a workshop I created for Black girls ages 6 to 12. On the surface, I was teaching them how to braid hair. But what I was really braiding was confidence. As we talked about college and ambition, one little girl looked up and said, “I want to go to your school too.” That moment reminded me, representation isn’t decoration. It’s direction. At A&T, I don’t just study behavior, I study systems. I co-founded *First Gen Forward*, a mentorship network for students navigating college spaces that weren’t built with us in mind. One of my mentees was afraid to ask her professor for accommodations. We role-played the conversation until she felt ready. She left with an extension and the belief that her voice mattered. My vision isn’t just about landing a career; it’s about shifting the culture. I want to humanize data, uplift marginalized voices, and make mental health a pillar of business, not an afterthought. I want to build systems where Black women are seen, supported, and centered, in boardrooms, classrooms, and beyond. This scholarship wouldn’t just fund my education; it would fuel my mission. It would allow me to lead more boldly, mentor more freely, and keep showing up for others with everything I’ve got.

From a young age, I have been fascinated by the way the world works, especially through the lens of science. My passion for STEM, particularly biology and psychology, grew as I began to understand how science can explain the complexities of human behavior and contribute to improving lives. However, pursuing STEM as a young Black woman has not been without challenges. The fields of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics often feel like unwelcoming spaces, especially for women from underrepresented backgrounds like mine. One of the most formative experiences that shaped my dedication to STEM happened during my first semester of college. Transitioning to university life was harder than I anticipated. The pressure of rigorous coursework, combined with personal struggles, made it difficult to stay motivated. I found myself overwhelmed, often physically and emotionally drained, and some mornings I simply couldn’t get out of bed. During this difficult time, I almost gave up on my dreams. That’s when I met Candace during New Student Orientation. She was the only person who truly noticed my absence from classes and study groups. Every morning she came to my dorm room, bringing warmth and light during my darkest moments. She helped me reconnect with my faith by inviting me to church, and more importantly, she reminded me that I was not alone. Her unwavering support gave me a fresh perspective and the strength to push through the fatigue and discouragement. Thanks to Candace’s kindness and encouragement, I finished my freshman year early with renewed motivation to pursue my STEM goals. This experience taught me the value of community and mentorship, critical components often missing for women in STEM fields. I realized that to succeed, I needed to not only pursue knowledge but also build and offer support to others facing similar challenges. My interest in psychology, one of the STEM disciplines I am passionate about, stems from this personal journey. I want to study how the brain works, how people cope with adversity, and how mental health support can be improved, especially for underrepresented groups like myself. I am driven to use my education to make meaningful contributions to mental health research and community outreach. Winning this scholarship would ease my financial burdens and allow me to focus more fully on my studies and leadership roles. It would also empower me to give back by mentoring young women in STEM, just as Candace mentored me. With this support, I am committed to breaking barriers and inspiring other girls and women to pursue their dreams in STEM fields.

Growing up, I have always been fascinated by the human mind—why people think, feel, and act the way they do. This curiosity naturally drew me to psychology, a field that combines science with a deep understanding of human behavior. However, pursuing my passion has not been without its challenges. Coming from a low-income family, the financial pressures of college were daunting, and the emotional weight of adapting to a new environment often felt overwhelming. During my first semester at my HBCU, I struggled more than I expected. The heavy coursework combined with homesickness, exhaustion, and the sunken feeling of knowing I may not be able to return to school next year due to my financial difficulties, led me into a dark place. I was overwhelmed, mentally drained, and some mornings I simply couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. What made things harder was that no one seemed to notice my absence or how much I was struggling, except for one person: my friend Candace. I met Candace during New Student Orientation, and she quickly became a crucial part of my college experience. She was the only one who noticed when I wasn’t in class or didn’t show up to study sessions. Every morning, she would come by my room, even on the days I felt completely lost, and bring light and hope into my life. Her presence was a lifeline during a time filled with overwhelming tiredness and a deep sense of drought, emotionally and mentally. Candace helped me connect with God and encouraged me to attend church with her, which gave me a new perspective and strength I hadn’t felt before. Her unwavering support reminded me that I wasn’t alone, and that my struggles didn’t define me. Thanks to her, I was able to push through my freshman year, finishing strong instead of letting negative thoughts and doubts end my dream. That experience shaped who I am today. I learned the importance of community, faith, and the power of genuine connection. Candace didn’t just help me stay in school; she gave me the motivation to keep going when giving up felt like the easier choice. For that, I will be forever grateful. This journey has deepened my passion for psychology, fueling my desire to help others who face similar battles with mental health and emotional struggles. I want to be someone who can offer hope and guidance, just as Candace did for me. Winning this scholarship would alleviate some of my financial burdens, allowing me to focus more on my studies and community involvement. It would also honor the strength and kindness that helped me through one of the hardest times in my life. With this support, I am committed to using my education to make a lasting impact, especially for students and individuals who need someone to notice them when they feel invisible.

From a young age, I have been deeply fascinated by the way the human mind works and why people behave the way they do. This curiosity led me to develop a passion for psychology, which is why I have chosen to pursue it as my field of study within STEM. Growing up as a Black student, I have witnessed how mental health challenges are often overlooked or stigmatized in my community, which has motivated me to make a difference by advancing research and support in this area. My interest in psychology was sparked during high school when I enrolled in an elective psychology course. Learning about cognitive processes, emotions, and human behavior opened my eyes to how critical mental health is for overall well-being. This class wasn’t just about theories; it was about understanding people, including myself and those around me. It also inspired me to volunteer at a local mental health awareness group, where I helped organize workshops and peer support sessions. These experiences showed me the power of education and community engagement in breaking down the stigma around mental health, especially in communities like mine where such topics are often considered taboo. Balancing my academic responsibilities with part-time jobs to support my family has been challenging, but these experiences have taught me resilience, time management, and the importance of perseverance. Despite these hurdles, I have maintained a strong GPA and stayed active in community service, especially projects focused on mental health awareness. I also take pride in mentoring younger students who are interested in STEM fields, including psychology, encouraging them to pursue their dreams and reminding them that mental health matters just as much as physical health. I am currently enrolled in a psychology degree program where I plan to specialize in clinical psychology. The program offers opportunities for hands-on clinical experience and research, which I believe are essential for gaining the skills and knowledge I need to make a real impact. Through my studies, I hope to better understand mental health disorders and develop effective therapies, particularly for underserved populations. I want to help bridge the gap in access to mental health resources that many Black communities face. Winning this scholarship would significantly ease my financial burden, allowing me to focus more on my education and community involvement. It would help cover the costs of textbooks, research materials, and fees for conferences where I can learn from experts and present my own work. These opportunities are vital for my growth as a student and future professional. My ultimate goal is to become a clinical psychologist who not only provides compassionate care but also advocates for mental health awareness in Black communities. I want to be a mentor and a role model, showing others that pursuing a career in STEM, and psychology in particular, is possible despite the obstacles we face. I am driven by the desire to uplift others and contribute to a more inclusive and understanding society. This scholarship would be a crucial step in helping me turn my aspirations into reality. With its support, I can continue on my path with confidence, ready to make a lasting impact in both my community and the broader field of psychology.

Rooted in Purpose, Driven by Difference When I walk into a room, I don’t try to blend in. I show up as myself. I speak with confidence, wear my natural hair with pride, and carry the lessons I learned from being raised by a strong Black mother who taught me that being different is something to embrace, not hide. As an Afro-Latina and first-generation college student, I’ve learned to use my identity and story as a way to serve, lead, and inspire. Even when I don’t realize it, I know someone is always watching, and I try to be the kind of person I needed when I was younger. Growing up, I didn’t come from a family with a long line of degrees or college experience, but I was raised in a home filled with love, high expectations, and constant encouragement. My mom worked hard to make sure I never settled for "good enough." She always reminded me to speak up, stand tall, and lead with kindness. Watching her handle challenges while still showing up for me taught me how to be strong, compassionate, and self-aware. What makes me different is that I’ve never tried to fit into a mold. I’ve learned to take up space in classrooms, leadership positions, and internships without shrinking myself. My identity is my strength, and I carry that confidence so that others around me, especially young Black and brown girls, can feel empowered to do the same. At North Carolina A&T State University, I bring that mindset into everything I do. As East Campus President for the Residence Hall Association, I’ve helped create a space where students feel seen, supported, and celebrated. I’ve worked on programs that focus on mental health, self-expression, and culture because I know how important it is for students to feel like they belong. Especially for those who are away from home for the first time or quietly struggling, I want them to know they aren’t alone. Beyond campus, I’ve volunteered at food drives, community outreach events, and student mentorship programs. I’ve helped younger students navigate the college process, shared my own story, and encouraged them to dream bigger. Some of the most meaningful moments I’ve had weren’t big events, though. Sometimes, it’s a one-on-one conversation, a late-night talk with a classmate who’s ready to give up or simply showing up when no one else does. That’s what service looks like to me; real, consistent support that people can count on. I also know there are people watching me who may never say it out loud. They might be unsure of their place in the world, wondering if they’ll ever feel comfortable being fully themselves. I serve them just by showing up, staying true to who I am, and proving that you don’t have to change yourself to succeed. The Gladys Ruth Legacy “Service” Memorial Scholarship means more to me than just financial support. It reflects everything I believe in. Staying authentic, serving others, and leading with heart. I don’t do it for recognition. I do it because someone once did it for me, and now it’s my turn to keep the cycle going. If even one person sees me and feels a little braver, a little surer of themselves, then I’ve already made the kind of difference that lasts.

My mental health journey has deeply shaped the person I am today. During my freshman year of college, I silently battled depression. The transition from a home marked by domestic violence to a new state, far away from familiar faces and routines, felt like both a blessing and a weight. I was finally free — but also alone, overwhelmed, and expected to figure everything out on my own. As a first-generation college student, I had no one to turn to who had walked this path before. I carried the burden of my future and my family’s expectations while working through the emotional aftermath of my past. I smiled through Zoom calls, kept up with deadlines, accepted leadership roles, and won awards — all while silently struggling with my mental health. That internal battle made me stronger, but it also made me more compassionate. It made me realize how many students like me are fighting private wars while chasing their dreams. Mental health is not just a personal issue — it’s a systemic one, especially for students of color, first-generation students, and survivors of trauma. The stigma around mental illness often keeps us quiet, afraid that admitting we’re struggling will make us seem weak or ungrateful. But I’ve learned that acknowledging my depression and seeking help was one of the strongest things I’ve ever done. This experience changed the way I view the world. It’s made me more empathetic and more committed to creating spaces of support and understanding. My relationships have become more genuine because I now prioritize emotional honesty, and I lead with vulnerability and grace. I’ve become someone my peers can confide in — because I’ve been there. It also inspired my career path. I’m studying psychology because I want to become a licensed therapist and advocate for accessible, culturally sensitive mental health care. I want to create safe spaces for people who, like me, often suffer in silence. I hope to specialize in trauma therapy and focus on helping young women, especially Black and brown women, navigate their pain, rediscover their strength, and build new futures. One of my long-term goals is to launch a scholarship fund for first-generation students like myself — those figuring out how to pay for college with little to no help. I know what it’s like to apply to college without knowing how the tuition would be covered, to take the leap anyway, and to figure things out one semester at a time. I wouldn’t wish that stress on anyone, especially not students already battling internal and external obstacles. My future scholarship will help give students like me a foot in the door, along with the message: You belong here, and you’re not alone. Mental health is deeply personal, but it’s also deeply communal. My experience with depression hasn’t broken me — it’s made me more determined to break cycles, build change, and be the kind of support I once needed.

Charity is important to me because I’ve lived on the receiving end. When money is tight and options are few, acts of charity — financial or emotional — can be life-changing. As a first-generation college student, I had to figure everything out alone. From applications to moving out of state, I did it all knowing my parent couldn’t afford to pay for college. Still, I applied, got accepted, and showed up — even if it meant taking things one uncertain semester at a time. I wouldn’t wish that pressure on anyone. That’s why I’m determined to give back by creating a scholarship fund for students like me — first-gen, low-income, and full of ambition. I want to make college more accessible for those navigating it alone, offering more than just money — offering hope, relief, and opportunity. Giving back isn’t just a dream. It’s a responsibility. If I can ease even one student’s path, I’ll know I’ve paid forward the support I once needed. Charity opens doors, and one day, I’ll be the one holding it open.

Being an LGBTQ+ student means learning how to take care of myself in a world that hasn’t always been designed to protect people like me. It means understanding that my mental and physical health aren’t luxuries — they’re lifelines. They are the foundation I stand on while working toward my goals, and every day I choose to protect them, even when it’s hard. Mental health became important to me out of necessity. As I came to understand my identity more clearly, I also became aware of how that identity could make me a target. Whether it was casual jokes that cut deeper than they were meant to or moments when I felt invisible in a room full of people, I often felt like I was carrying something I couldn’t explain. That quiet weight built up over time — anxiety, self-doubt, exhaustion. For a long time, I didn’t have the words for what I was going through. Now, I do. And I’m learning to speak them, for myself and for others. Being a student adds an extra layer to that struggle. There’s pressure to perform, to succeed, to prove that I belong. At times, I’ve juggled intense coursework, leadership positions, and personal struggles all while trying to simply feel okay in my own skin. It’s not easy to prioritize wellness when you’re constantly trying to prove your worth in a system that wasn’t built for you. There were days I skipped meals because I was too anxious to eat, or ignored my body’s signals because I thought rest would mean falling behind. It took me time — and support — to realize that taking care of myself wasn’t weakness. It was a form of resistance. It was strength. Physical wellness is tied to that too. I’ve started listening to my body — making time for movement, for rest, for nutrition — and not punishing myself when I fall short. It’s about balance, not perfection. I try to show up for myself in small but powerful ways: morning walks, journaling, checking in with friends, going to therapy when I can. These are the things that help me stay grounded. They help me remember that I matter — not just my grades or accomplishments, but me. One of the hardest challenges is that, as an LGBTQ+ person, finding affirming spaces isn’t always guaranteed. Whether it’s a doctor’s office, a classroom, or even a campus club, I’ve learned to pay attention to whether I feel seen and safe. When I do find those spaces, I cherish them. When I don’t, I try to build them — by being open about my story, checking in on others, or simply existing unapologetically. My wellness is about survival, yes — but it’s also about joy. It’s about giving myself permission to be whole. And one day, I hope to build a career where I can support others doing the same. Whether through mental health advocacy, peer counseling, or community outreach, I want to be part of something that says: you are not alone, and your well-being matters. Wellness isn’t always easy — especially for people like me. But I’m learning to choose myself, over and over again. That choice has changed everything.

Being a first-generation college student means I am the first in my family to step into a world that no one before me has navigated. There was no blueprint, no one to tell me what FAFSA was, how to pick classes, or what office to go to when I was overwhelmed. I’ve had to figure things out as I go — through late-night Google searches, trial and error, and pure determination. But that’s also exactly why this journey means so much to me, and why it deeply shapes the kind of career I want to build. My career goals are rooted in service — especially toward people who feel unseen, unheard, or unsupported. Growing up, I watched my family work hard every day, but college was never really talked about. Not because they didn’t believe in me, but because it felt out of reach. Now that I’m here, I carry the weight of their hopes and sacrifices, but I also carry the responsibility of making this path easier for those coming after me. As a psychology major, I want to work in mental health — not just to treat people, but to make mental health care more accessible, relatable, and welcoming for communities like mine. Being first-gen has shown me how many people suffer silently because they don't have access to resources, support, or even the language to describe what they're going through. I want to change that. More than anything, being a first-generation college student has taught me resilience. It’s taught me how to keep going when I feel out of place, how to ask questions without shame, and how to advocate for myself and others. These lessons don’t just influence my career goals — they define them. I’m not just going to college for a degree. I’m going because I believe education is a tool for transformation — not just personal, but generational. I want to be someone who opens doors, who builds bridges, and who helps others feel like they belong, too. This journey is bigger than me. And every step I take forward, I do with the full intention of reaching back.

Growing up in Philadelphia, I learned that community isn’t just about where you live, it’s about how people show up for each other. The neighborhoods I grew up in weren’t always easy. I witnessed struggle, but I also witnessed strength, people working hard, looking out for one another, and building something from the ground up, even when they didn’t have much. That environment shaped me more than anything else ever could. Philadelphia taught me how to be resourceful, how to be resilient, and how to navigate spaces that weren’t always made for me. Whether it was seeing the effects of underfunded schools or the weight many families carried just to make ends meet, I saw early on how systems can fail people, and how people still rise in spite of that. It gave me a sense of purpose: I want to be someone who helps change those systems from the inside out. As a psychology major at an HBCU, I’m focused on mental health and emotional well-being, especially in underserved Black and Brown communities like the ones I come from. Too often, mental health is ignored, stigmatized, or simply inaccessible in these environments — and I want to change that. My career goal is to become a licensed psychologist or counselor who not only treats individuals but works to create broader access to mental health education and support. I want to be the person I wish more people had when I was growing up in Philly. My city also shaped the way I relate to people. Philly is full of diversity — culturally, economically, emotionally. I’ve learned how to connect with people who come from completely different walks of life. I’ve seen how deep pain can run, but also how healing can happen when someone truly listens and understands. That emotional intelligence and empathy are what I carry into my studies and plan to carry into my profession. Being from Pennsylvania and now attending the #1 public HBCU in the nation is something I don’t take lightly. I know what it means to be a first-generation college student, to come from limited means, and to still push through, not just for myself, but for everyone who never got the chance to. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial burden I carry and let me focus more on building my future and giving back to my community. Philadelphia gave me grit. It gave me my voice. And most importantly, it gave me the fire to want more — not just for myself, but for every young person who’s growing up there now, wondering if they’ll ever get out. I want to prove that they can — and that they can come back and be the difference.

I’ve always had questions that felt too big to ask out loud. Why do people think the way they do? What makes us repeat patterns, even ones that hurt us? How do early life experiences shape the choices we make? Those questions stayed with me, and the older I got, the more I realized they weren’t just philosophical — they were scientific. Psychology gave me the language, tools, and framework to begin answering them. Today, I’m a proud undergraduate student studying psychology, and I view the field as one of the most important sciences of our time. Psychology sits at the intersection of biology, neuroscience, statistics, and human behavior. It’s the science of how we think, act, and relate — all of which affect everything from education and public health to relationships, leadership, and even space exploration. The mind is our most powerful organ, and I believe that understanding it is the key to unlocking human potential and solving many of society’s most complex challenges. I come from a background where mental health wasn’t often talked about, let alone treated. I’ve seen firsthand how emotional and psychological struggles can limit someone’s ability to thrive. That personal exposure, paired with my academic curiosity, is what fuels my passion to make a difference. I don’t just want to study psychology — I want to apply it, especially in communities where access to mental health resources is still lacking. My dream is to work in clinical psychology or community mental health, and eventually pursue research that explores the impact of generational trauma and environmental stress on brain development and behavior. I want to help close the gap between research and real-world practice — turning insights from neuroscience and psychology into policies, programs, and tools that help people live healthier, more empowered lives. I’m particularly interested in supporting youth and first-generation college students, who often struggle with high levels of anxiety, pressure, and identity challenges without the support systems they need. As a woman of color in science, I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not supposed to be in the room — to feel invisible, underestimated, or out of place. But I also know the power of taking up space anyway. I’ve earned leadership roles, academic awards, and the respect of my peers not because I’ve had it easy, but because I kept showing up. I bring not only intelligence and work ethic to my studies, but lived experience — and I believe that matters just as much in science. Diverse perspectives lead to better research, better understanding, and better solutions. This scholarship would directly support my ability to continue my education and move closer to becoming a licensed psychologist and mental health advocate. It would help me worry less about financial barriers and focus more on my studies, research opportunities, and building a career that creates real impact. Most of all, it would remind me that people believe in students like me — women who are choosing science not just as a field of study, but as a mission. William Griggs believed in exploration and expanding what’s possible. I’m inspired by that. I may not be studying rocket science, but I’m exploring a different kind of frontier — one within the human mind. And just like space, it’s vast, largely uncharted, and full of potential.

My story begins with a lot of struggle — but it’s not a story of struggle alone. It’s also a story of rising up, of refusing to let statistics define me, and of choosing purpose even when the path was hard. As a first-generation Black woman, I’ve had to navigate many systems that were not designed for people like me. I come from a background where college wasn't expected, where conversations were more often about survival than success. I grew up watching my family work multiple jobs, stretch paychecks, and still come up short — not from a lack of effort, but from a lack of opportunity. On top of that, my home life was far from peaceful. There was domestic violence — a constant background noise in my life — and eventually, I made the decision to leave that environment for good. I moved to North Carolina to attend college, determined to give myself a fresh start. That was one of the hardest and bravest choices I’ve ever made. I left behind everything I knew, and I bet on myself. I’m now a student at the #1 public HBCU in the country, where I’ve already begun to thrive. Despite the emotional weight I carry, I’ve been voted into leadership roles, received awards, and am involved in initiatives that allow me to uplift others. I’m not just here to earn a degree — I’m here to transform my future and, eventually, help transform the world around me. Being a woman of color in college, especially as a first-gen student, comes with unique challenges. Sometimes it’s financial, sometimes it’s emotional, and sometimes it’s just feeling like you have to work ten times harder to prove you belong. But it also comes with a fire — a drive to succeed not just for myself, but for every girl who thinks she isn’t good enough because of where she comes from. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial burden that constantly hangs over me. It would allow me to focus more on my studies, leadership work, and preparing for the future I’m building — one where I work in public service, advocacy, or education, helping young people who come from backgrounds like mine. It would be a reminder that people believe in my story, in my voice, and in my potential. I’m still writing my story. But I know how it’s going to go — I will graduate. I will give back. I will be someone others can look to and say, “She made it, so I can too.” And with support like this scholarship, that story becomes more possible every day.

My greatest achievement so far isn’t something that came with a trophy or a certificate — it was leaving a home filled with domestic violence and choosing a better life for myself. That decision , to walk away from a toxic environment and move to North Carolina for college — was the hardest and bravest thing I’ve ever done. But it was also the beginning of everything good that’s come since. Growing up, survival became second nature. I learned early on how to navigate chaos, how to stay quiet when needed, and how to protect myself emotionally. Home was not a place of peace, but rather a place I had to escape to breathe. For a long time, I believed that just surviving was enough. But deep down, I always wanted more — not just to live, but to live well. Getting accepted into the #1 public HBCU in the country was more than an academic milestone — it was proof that I could choose a different path, even if the odds were stacked against me. Coming here gave me something I never had before: safety, stability, and space to grow. And I didn’t waste a second of it. In my first year, I was voted into leadership roles, won awards, and earned the respect of my peers and professors. These weren’t just titles or accolades — they were signs that I belonged somewhere, that people saw me for who I really was: not just a survivor, but a leader, a scholar, and someone with a purpose. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t defined by my past — I was shaping my future. That year taught me that resilience can bloom into confidence, that trauma doesn’t have to be a life sentence, and that the strongest people are often the ones who’ve been through the most. I used to think that my story made me broken — now, I know it makes me powerful. Looking ahead, I want to use my education not only to uplift myself, but to help others who come from similar backgrounds. I want to work in a field where I can advocate for youth, speak out about the realities of domestic violence, and create real change. I don’t just want to escape the cycle — I want to break it, and build something better in its place. This scholarship isn’t just financial support — it’s a symbol of hope. For students like me, it means someone believes in our future, even when life has tried to dim our light. I’m determined to keep pushing forward, keep showing up, and keep proving that where you come from does not define where you can go.

Growing up as a Black girl in Philadelphia, in a household where resources were limited and emotions ran high, I learned early what it meant to survive. My parents loved me, but life was hard—financially, emotionally, and mentally. I grew up watching them argue constantly, sometimes violently. The chaos in my home-made school feel like the only place where I could breathe. But even there, I was carrying the weight of things that most of my peers didn’t see. There were nights when we had to decide between keeping the lights on or putting gas in the car. I learned how to stretch every dollar, how to cook full meals out of pantry scraps, how to silence my own needs so someone else in my family could have just a little more. I never grew up with abundance, but I was raised on grit. And that grit is what fuels everything I do. Despite it all, I never gave up on school. In fact, education became my escape—my way out and up. I studied hard, joined every program I could, and kept my GPA above a 3.5 even during my lowest mental health moments. When I lost a close family member during my freshman year of college, I was so deep in grief that I couldn’t get out of bed. But even then, I found a way to keep going. That moment—like many others—taught me that pain doesn’t define you. What you do with it does. Today, I’m a proud student at North Carolina A&T, majoring in psychology with a minor in marketing. My dream is to become a consumer psychologist, helping brands understand and serve diverse communities—especially Black women, who are too often ignored or exploited in the market. I also want to be an advocate for mental health, because I’ve lived through the silence, and I know how important it is to be seen and heard. But I’m not just dreaming. I’m working. I run my own hair business on campus, doing braids and protective styles for other Black women—not just for income, but to create a space where we can talk, heal, and uplift each other. I co-founded a program for first-generation students called First Gen Forward, where we connect peers with resources and emotional support. I’ve held leadership roles in student government, volunteered in schools, and interned at Apple—all while balancing the weight of being the first in my family to walk this path. Our finances have never been strong. There’s no college fund, no generational wealth. What we’ve had is love, sacrifice, and faith, and I’ve learned to build everything from that. I’ve maximized every opportunity, turned every loss into fuel, and led with compassion, because I know what it feels like to go without. To me, social justice isn’t just about protests and politics, it’s about making sure the next little girl like me doesn’t have to suffer in silence. It’s about creating access, equity, and empathy in every space I enter, from the classroom to the boardroom. I want to make it easier for someone else to walk through doors I had to kick down. This scholarship would mean more than financial relief. It would be a recognition of my story, my effort, and my future. I carry compassion because I’ve needed it. I live with integrity because I know what happens when you lose trust. And I persevere, because I’ve never had the option to give up. Thank you for considering my journey. I promise to honor it with purpose.

Since the beginning of my college journey at North Carolina A&T, I’ve known I wanted to pursue more than just a degree—I wanted to pursue impact. I chose psychology as my major with a focus on consumer behavior and a minor in marketing because I’ve always been fascinated by how people think, what drives their choices, and how brands influence our decisions. But as I’ve grown, so have my ambitions. I now know that to reach the level of depth, leadership, and innovation I want in this field, my undergraduate education is just the beginning. I plan to continue my education post-graduation by pursuing a master’s degree in psychology with a focus on consumer psychology and market research. Specifically, I hope to attend Columbia University’s MA in Psychology in Education program, which blends psychological theory with real-world business application. This program would give me the flexibility to take courses from both Teachers College and Columbia Business School, where I can sharpen my skills in decision science, behavioral economics, and branding strategy. I want to be more than just a researcher—I want to be a voice in the room where strategy meets empathy. Black consumers, especially Black women, are often underserved or misunderstood in marketing spaces. I want to change that. I want to use research, data, and human insight to make brands more inclusive and socially aware. But to do that with excellence, I need the advanced training, mentorship, and exposure that graduate study can provide. Graduate school is also a deeply personal decision for me. As a first-generation college student, I’m not just doing this for myself—I’m doing it for my family, and for every little Black girl who’s ever been told to dream smaller. Continuing my education is my way of saying, "We belong here too"—in boardrooms, in labs, in brand strategy meetings, and in spaces that influence how people see the world. Beyond Columbia, I’m also considering hybrid psychology and marketing programs at Northwestern, USC, and NYU. All of these schools offer specialized paths in consumer behavior, market analytics, and integrated communications—exactly the blend I’m looking for. I want to graduate with more than just theoretical knowledge; I want hands-on research experience, certifications in tools like Google Analytics and survey design, and the confidence to lead projects that make real social impact. Eventually, I hope to become a Consumer Psychologist working in either brand consulting or market research, with a focus on representation, inclusion, and ethical marketing. I want to help companies design products and campaigns that reflect real people’s needs—not just what sells, but what serves. To prepare for this future, I’ve been intentional in everything I do. I’ve held leadership roles in student government and marketing organizations, earned a 3.6 GPA, started my own hair business on campus, and co-founded a first-generation support initiative. I’ve also interned with Apple, volunteered in elementary schools, and gotten involved in research. All of these experiences have shown me the value of education beyond the classroom—and the need for more diverse voices in business psychology spaces. Ultimately, I’m pursuing graduate education because I believe in long-term impact. I believe in combining heart and science. And I believe that continuing my education will give me the tools, the platform, and the expertise to make a difference not just in my career, but in the world around me.

I didn’t choose psychology—it chose me, in the quiet moments when I was struggling to hold myself together and needed someone who truly understood. I’m a first-generation college student, majoring in psychology at North Carolina A&T, and every step I’ve taken toward this field has come from real, personal experience with mental health—both my own and those I love. Growing up, mental health wasn’t something we talked about. In my community, you were taught to “push through,” “pray about it,” or “toughen up.” But that mindset didn’t prepare me for the weight I’d carry into my freshman year of college. After the loss of a family member I was incredibly close to, I spiraled into a deep depression. I couldn't get out of bed some days. I was disconnected from friends and family. I was failing to keep up with classes, but more than that—I was failing to recognize myself. I felt broken, invisible, and alone. It took time, but I eventually began to heal. That process wasn’t perfect or linear. It started with little things: taking walks, reading self-help books, reaching out to people who made me feel safe. I started speaking up more, setting boundaries, protecting my peace. And through it all, one thing became clear—I wanted to be the kind of support for others that I never had when I needed it most. That’s why I chose psychology. I want to specialize in counseling and trauma-informed care for young people, especially other Black girls who are often expected to be strong before they are ever allowed to be soft. I want to normalize therapy, emotional awareness, and healing in communities where silence has been the standard for too long. My goal is to become a licensed mental health counselor and open a practice that not only treats individuals, but also educates families and schools on how to support mental wellness from an early age. I want to create safe spaces where students feel seen, heard, and understood, because I know what it’s like to sit in silence, wondering if anyone cares. I may not have years of clinical experience yet, but I have lived it. I’ve been in the trenches of anxiety, grief, and depression. I’ve had to learn how to show up for myself when it felt like no one else could. That lived experience gives me a kind of empathy no textbook can teach. And it fuels my drive every single day. Receiving this scholarship would be more than financial help—it would be an affirmation of the path I’m on. One built on survival, but grounded in purpose. I want to turn my pain into service, my struggle into support, and ultimately be a light for someone else in their darkest moment—just like Ethan was for so many.

My freshman year of college was supposed to be the beginning of something beautiful—new experiences, new friendships, and a fresh start. But instead, it became the darkest period of my life. Just before I left for school, I lost my aunt, the woman who had always been my safe space, my cheerleader, my second mother. Her passing shattered something in me that I didn’t know how to rebuild. I tried to carry on like everything was normal, but it wasn’t. I was grieving, and I didn’t know how to process that grief while adjusting to college life, managing classes, and building new relationships. At first, the sadness was quiet. But soon it became all-consuming. I stopped getting out of bed. I lost interest in everything that used to bring me joy. I stopped responding to texts, my phone grew silent, and the people I loved started to worry. I wasn’t just grieving my aunt—I was losing myself. The motivation I had always prided myself on disappeared, and so did my ability to focus in class. My grades suffered, and I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. I felt deeply unhappy, stuck in a fog I couldn’t escape. What made it harder was the silence. In the Black community, grief and mental health are too often whispered about, if acknowledged at all. I didn’t feel like I had permission to fall apart. I tried to push through, to be strong. But being strong in silence nearly broke me. Eventually, I reached a point where I realized that if I didn’t choose to fight for my own healing, no one could do it for me. And so I began again—slowly, quietly, and intentionally. I started going on walks. I read self-help books that made me feel seen and understood. I began working out—not to change how I looked, but to feel something, to remember what it meant to care for myself. I started talking to the people I trusted. I learned to set boundaries, to protect my peace, and to prioritize my mental health without apology. I began to see that healing isn’t linear, and grief doesn’t have a timeline—but both deserve space. This journey changed me in ways I never expected. It redefined my goals. I now know that true success doesn’t come from overachievement—it comes from being whole. That’s one of the reasons I chose to major in psychology. I want to understand the human mind and use that knowledge to destigmatize mental health, especially in spaces where it’s often overlooked. As an aspiring consumer psychologist, I also want to integrate mental wellness into industries like marketing and beauty, making space for authenticity, vulnerability, and representation. My relationships are stronger now because they’re rooted in honesty and mutual care. I’ve learned to check in, not just on others, but on myself. I've learned that silence is not strength, and speaking up can be the first step toward healing. Most of all, I now see the world through a more compassionate lens. Everyone carries something, and we never know what someone is going through. I want to be someone who helps bring those hidden stories into the light, because I’ve seen that when we talk about our pain, it doesn’t define us. It frees us. Receiving the Ethel Hayes Destigmatization of Mental Health Scholarship would mean more than just financial support—it would be an acknowledgment of the battles I’ve fought and the purpose I’ve found on the other side. I want to be part of a generation that normalizes healing, honors vulnerability, and reminds others—especially young Black women like me, that our mental health matters too.

As a first-generation Black woman from Philadelphia, PA, currently attending North Carolina A&T State University, I stand proudly at the intersection of purpose and passion. I am majoring in psychology with a minor in marketing, and I aspire to become a consumer psychologist specializing in market research. My academic journey is deeply personal, rooted in both my lived experience and my desire to amplify the voices and needs of Black women, particularly in the cosmetic industry. Growing up, I saw firsthand how products, advertising, and branding often excluded women who looked like me. Whether it was hair products that didn’t work for our textures or makeup lines that didn’t offer our shades, it became clear that the market wasn’t built with us in mind. This realization didn’t lead to frustration—it fueled a fire. I knew I wanted to be someone who didn’t just demand change, but who used data, insight, and psychology to create it. My dream is to become a consumer psychologist who helps brands understand the emotional and cultural factors that influence buying behavior, particularly among Black women. I believe this work is essential in reshaping industries like beauty, where inclusivity is often used as a marketing buzzword rather than a standard. Through my studies, I’ve learned how psychology can explain consumer decision-making, and through marketing, how to reach and resonate with an audience. Together, these fields allow me to explore how products can be ethically developed and intentionally marketed to truly serve communities of color. This mission isn’t just academic for me, it’s already a part of my everyday life. I run my own hair business and do hair on campus, creating a space for Black women to feel seen, cared for, and beautiful. This work allows me to connect directly with the community I want to uplift and gives me a hands-on understanding of our needs, preferences, and frustrations. Every client who sits in my chair teaches me something new, and these insights will one day inform the data I analyze, the brands I advise, and the products I help develop. I plan to use my career to advocate for inclusivity not only in product development but also in the boardrooms and research labs where these decisions are made. Representation matters at every level, and I want to be a bridge between consumers and corporations—a voice that ensures Black women are not just included but centered. Receiving the Willie Mae Rawls Scholarship would be an incredible honor. Like Mrs. Rawls, I strive to spread positivity, inspire others, and make a meaningful impact on my family and community. This scholarship would not only support me financially but would affirm the path I’m walking one rooted in faith, love, and the belief that we can build better futures for those who come after us.

If given the opportunity, I would dedicate myself to improving access to mental health and financial literacy resources in underserved Black communities. I’ve witnessed firsthand how poverty, stigma, and generational trauma create barriers—silencing important conversations and limiting access to vital information about wellness and empowerment. Through my studies in psychology and marketing at North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University, I am gaining the tools to break these cycles and build bridges of understanding and opportunity. In my community, mental health is often a taboo subject, whispered about if at all. Many families suffer in silence, taught to believe that strength means suppression and asking for help is weakness. I want to change that narrative. I envision safe, welcoming spaces where individuals feel supported in prioritizing their mental health. My goal is to launch a nonprofit offering community workshops that combine mental wellness education with practical skills like consumer literacy and budgeting—because mental and financial health are deeply connected and equally crucial. This mission is personal. As a first-generation, low-income student, I’ve seen how chronic stress and survival-focused decision-making hold people back. Many in my community work tirelessly just to get by, with little energy left for their own well-being. But survival should never be the goal—we deserve to thrive. That belief fuels both my academic pursuits and community work. Volunteering has taught me the power of small acts to spark big change. Through Backpack Beginnings, I helped provide food and resources to families facing food insecurity, offering hope and relief. At an afterschool program, I taught young Black girls how to braid their hair—not just a skill, but a celebration of culture and identity. During those sessions, I also facilitated conversations about confidence and self-worth through my organization, We Evolve, which I founded to empower youth through positive mindsets and community connection. These experiences have shown me that change starts in the heart of our communities—with people who listen, show up, and invest in one another. At North Carolina A&T, my studies in psychology and marketing help me understand how people think and make decisions. I plan to use this knowledge to craft culturally relevant messaging, challenge harmful stereotypes, and design programs that truly resonate. Education, to me, is about transformation—not just degrees. I want my education to be a tool to uplift my community. This work is my calling and my way of honoring the legacy of Henry Walker Sr., who served his country with courage and honor despite facing tremendous obstacles. His life reminds me that true courage is serving something greater than oneself, especially when the odds are against you. That is the legacy I strive to carry forward: serving my community, honoring my history, and building a better future. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial burden of college and empower me to continue pursuing this vision. It would affirm that my voice and dreams matter—and honor a man who proved that even without formal education, one’s legacy can inspire and uplift generations.

There is a rhythm to life at North Carolina A&T State University—a heartbeat that pulses through every classroom, every courtyard, every determined step on this sacred ground. It’s the rhythm of Aggie Pride—not just a phrase, but a fire. It burns in us with the knowledge that we come from greatness, and we are destined to continue it. Here, we are taught to move with purpose, to speak with truth, and to work with passion. Because at A&T, we are Always Doing, Never Done. Being a student at A&T means more than earning a degree—it means being molded by a legacy. A legacy built by those who defied limits, dared to dream, and worked tirelessly to create space for those coming behind them. I feel that legacy in my bones every day I walk this campus. It drives me. It humbles me. It reminds me that my success isn’t mine alone—it belongs to my family, my community, and to every soul who sacrificed so I could be here. As a psychology major with a minor in marketing, my academic journey is rooted in curiosity and purpose. I’ve always been fascinated by why people make the decisions they do—how emotions, culture, and identity shape the choices we make as consumers. My passion lies in consumer psychology and market research because I want to understand not just what people buy, but why. And more importantly, I want to make sure that companies listen—really listen—to the needs, experiences, and values of diverse communities like mine. At A&T, I’ve learned that true leadership comes from understanding. That innovation starts with empathy. And that the best kind of influence is the kind that lifts others up with you. These values will stay with me long after I cross the graduation stage. I plan to build a career where I help companies create marketing strategies that are not only effective but ethical strategies that include us, represent us, and respect us. Eventually, I hope to launch a market research firm that specializes in culturally informed consumer insights. I want to consult for brands that are ready to move past performative outreach and toward real, lasting connection with underrepresented communities. I want to help shift the narrative—so people who look like me see themselves not just in ads, but in boardrooms, decision-making, and brand-building. But beyond career goals, college has shaped me as a person. It’s taught me resilience when things got hard. It’s given me mentors who saw my potential even when I doubted myself. It’s surrounded me with peers who push me to be better, dream bigger, and show up every day. I’ve grown into someone who is not just seeking success, but significance. To be considered for this scholarship, especially one honoring Ann Holiday, a mother whose love and vision for A&T lives on through her legacy, is deeply meaningful. Her belief in this university reflects everything I’ve come to love about it: its ability to transform, to empower, to uplift. If awarded, I would honor her legacy not just with words, but through the impact I create in the world. I may be one student, but I carry many voices with me. I carry my mother’s prayers, my community’s hope, and the spirit of Aggies past and present. And as I walk forward, I do so proudly, knowing that I am Always Doing, Never Done.

Growing up in a first-generation, low-income household, college was more than a dream—it was the finish line to a race I started long before I ever stepped foot on campus. I come from a family that has given everything for my success, even when they didn’t have much to give. College isn’t just important to me, it’s essential. It’s a promise to my family, to my community, and to myself that I will not let our struggles define our future. As the first in my family to attend college, I carry the hopes of generations with me. I wasn’t raised with a roadmap to higher education. I didn’t have college tours, test prep tutors, or family members who could offer advice about financial aid or career paths. What I had was grit, determination, and the will to figure it out anyway. That determination led me to North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University, where I’m majoring in a STEM field that combines my analytical thinking with a desire to solve real-world problems. I chose STEM because I’ve always been fascinated by how things work—from technology to systems to human behavior. I want to use my education to build solutions that make life better, especially for underserved communities like the one I come from. STEM allows me to ask meaningful questions and seek tangible answers, and college gives me the environment to develop those tools, ask those questions, and grow into a problem-solver who makes a real impact. But I didn’t come to college just to sit in classrooms and pass exams. I came to evolve. I want to walk away from this experience not only with a degree but with a strong sense of purpose, confidence in my voice, and the leadership skills to create change. I want to connect with peers from different backgrounds, challenge my own assumptions, and build something greater than myself. College is where I get to discover who I am and what kind of legacy I want to leave behind. The journey hasn’t been easy. Balancing coursework, part-time jobs, and financial stress while navigating a system I wasn’t raised to understand can be overwhelming. There are moments when I wonder if I can keep going, but then I remember who I’m doing this for. I remember my mother’s sacrifices, my younger siblings watching me, and the younger version of myself who dreamed of being where I am now. Those reminders keep me grounded and moving forward. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial relief. It would be a sign that someone believes in my potential, that my story matters, and that my future is worth investing in. It would help me focus more on learning and less on surviving, and it would bring me one step closer to the life I’ve always imagined but never believed I could actually reach. To me, college isn’t just important, it’s transformational. It’s a door I’ve fought hard to unlock, and now that it’s open, I intend to walk through it with purpose, passion, and persistence.

I’ve always been fascinated by people—what drives them, how they think, and especially what influences their decisions as consumers. Growing up, I noticed how advertising and branding shaped the way people in my community dressed, talked, and even saw themselves. I didn’t have the terminology back then, but I was witnessing consumer psychology at work. Over time, that curiosity grew into a passion. Today, I’m majoring in business with a focus in psychology at North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University, and I plan to build a career at the intersection of marketing, consumer behavior, and social impact. What excites me most is the opportunity to challenge the way traditional businesses interact with people. I want to understand why people buy what they buy, but not just from a numbers or profit standpoint. I want to know what values, experiences, and emotions lie behind those choices. Far too often, businesses rely on strategies that exploit human psychology without truly respecting it. My mission is to change that—to bring empathy, honesty, and cultural understanding into marketing and branding strategies that resonate without manipulation. I want to build brands that don’t just sell but connect. My time at North Carolina A&T has helped me realize the power of representation and the importance of perspective. Being part of an HBCU community has grounded me in resilience, pride, and the belief that my voice matters. It’s helped me grow academically, personally, and professionally. I’ve taken every opportunity to immerse myself in both fields—learning about organizational behavior, cognitive psychology, and strategic marketing—because I know that combining these disciplines will give me the tools to do meaningful work. But pursuing that vision hasn’t been easy. Coming from a low-income background, I’ve had to work part-time to cover tuition, textbooks, and basic expenses. There have been times when I had to make difficult choices—like whether to buy a required book or pay a phone bill. I stay motivated because I believe in the life I’m working toward. But support like this scholarship would lift a weight off my shoulders and give me the freedom to focus more fully on my studies and long-term goals. Beyond academics, I’m committed to giving back. I’ve mentored high school students, volunteered at financial literacy events, and participated in community outreach on campus. One of my proudest experiences was helping organize an entrepreneurship program for local teens. Watching them discover their own ideas and passions reminded me why I’m doing this. I want to inspire others to realize they can be creators, leaders, and innovators—not just consumers. This scholarship means more than financial assistance. It represents belief—belief in students like me who are not only dreaming of a better future but actively working to build one. I want to be a business leader who leads with both strategy and soul. Someone who changes how companies see people, especially people from communities like mine. With this scholarship, I can continue building that future with purpose, pride, and power. Thank you for considering my story. Your support wouldn’t just help me afford school—it would help me shape a future where business is driven by values, and where everyone has a seat at the table.