I've always thought like a social scientist before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have restful sleep, and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly, who'd have the advantage? I'd find answers during undergrad. I would be in Arizona, living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing, and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Leaving bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find belonging. These feelings traveled closely like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, it'd impact other areas of life. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacts other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling and haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. As a black queer person with chronic health conditions, I'm familiar with not feeling seen. As dedicated as I am to social work, it's imperative to understand the ways social work serves white supremacist values. This includes the encouragement of therapists being "blank slates" to a lack of teaching and knowledge of culturally competent care. While the DSM is our gospel, we must also inspect how mental health challenges show up in marginalized communities since many women and black people are prone to being misdiagnosed if they are able to be assessed at all. This gap can further health disparities, which reinforces an existing social hierarchy where white patients take priority while black and other marginalized clients are secondary. Telehealth can play a large role in filling this gap since as stated before, many cannot physically make it into a health clinic or a therapists office, which can be a critical start to a person's healing journey. While it does not serve the traditional therapeutic experience, it bridges many gaps to care.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly, who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, it'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacts other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling and haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table as well as supporting other vulnerable groups within the black community, such as individuals living with disabilities and members of the LGBT community.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly, who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, it'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacts other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling and haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table as well as supporting other vulnerable groups within the black community, such as individuals living with disabilities and members of the LGBT community.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly, who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, it'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacts other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling and haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table as well as supporting other vulnerable groups within the black community, such as individuals living with disabilities and members of the LGBT community.

For as long as I can remember, I was always enthralled by observing patterns in people; I was thinking and acting like a social scientist before I even knew of the field. Growing up, I thought quite critically about myself and the people around me since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender, and how one was treated, and arguably most significantly, how one was expected to behave based on those factors. Growing up in a low-income black household naturally raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress than others?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it out of bounds for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health or trauma when they were my age?” I have always wondered what determines whether someone has a stable or chaotic home life. Who has the ability to have healthy amounts of sleep, and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly, who would have the advantage? As a graduate student studying social work at Wayne State University, one of my biggest personal and professional goals is to make a measurable difference within my community. With social justice as the forefront, my goal is to become a mental health professional who focuses on the wellness of black, queer, and disabled individuals. There is strong evidence to support the fact that these demographics alone are more likely to experience mental health challenges. When intersectionality comes into question, we can observe that many people hold more than one of these identities at the same time. In this instance, more troubling data exists for these populations' mental and physical health outcomes since a large part of their experiences includes a sense of double jeopardy. Instead of leaving these problems unaddressed and allowing history to repeat itself, I want to be a social worker who disrupts the status quo if the status quo exists at the expense of those who are more vulnerable in society. This passion only grows as I continue to learn about social justice, the history of the field, and everything around mental health that can impact what occurs in the therapeutic space, to what determines when or if prospective clients can be seen in the first place. Without discussing oppression and intersectionality, we are only receiving part of the story. In a world filled with uncertainty for clinicians (current and aspiring) and clients alike, it is imperative that proper support is provided on both ends to create a more just and equitable society within and outside of the mental health space. This is because, as social workers, we must wear several hats to ensure the well-being of our communities. And the furthering of my education is the first step to these dreams becoming a reality.

As a Black person living in the United States, one of the most important lessons I have learned is that Black people are not a monolith. Being born in Florida and raised in Michigan taught me firsthand about the many cultural differences that exist within the same racial groups. Recognizing the validity of racial minorities, regardless of where they are from, has been crucial to my personal and professional growth. Travel is a transformative experience. It opens doors to new cultures, perspectives, and environments, which can lead to significant personal growth and development. For me, travel has been an eye-opener in understanding the diversity within my own race and beyond. Growing up in different parts of the United States, I saw how varied Black culture can be. In Florida, I experienced a blend of Caribbean and Southern influences, while Michigan offered a different mix of Midwestern and urban Black culture. These experiences taught me that there is no single way to be Black. But it has also opened my eyes to the different types of discrimination my people are more likely to face -- including discrimination within the community. For example, many black people from the South are thought to have lower intelligence and are sometimes treated as such. This realization has been essential in my studies in Social Work at Wayne State University. It has helped me appreciate the unique backgrounds of the people I aim to serve and to make the field of mental health a culturally competent space. Exposure to different cultures through travel also broadens one's perspective. Meeting people from various backgrounds allows you to see the world through their eyes. This can challenge your own beliefs and assumptions, making you more empathetic and open-minded. This is particularly important since one's upbringing and surroundings often contextualize a person's beliefs, traditions, and even behaviors regardless of whether we can relate to them. The stories and experiences of the people I've met made me rethink my own views and consider how different environments shape people's lives. Travel also exposes you to new environments, which can be both exciting and challenging. Adapting to new surroundings can build resilience and problem-solving skills. These are qualities that are valuable in any field but are especially important in Social Work since I know that all of my clients will not be the same. Understanding how to navigate unfamiliar situations can make me a better therapist and advocate for my clients. In conclusion, travel has the power to transform individuals by exposing them to different cultures, perspectives, and environments. For me, it has been a journey of self-discovery and growth. It has taught me to appreciate the diversity within my own race and to be more empathetic and open-minded. Despite many cultural differences, black people as a whole are one of the most resilient populations that receive little help that is also culturally competent. These lessons are invaluable as I continue my studies and work toward a career in Social Work.

As an AmeriCorps member, my work is not only dedicated to my service, but to one of my deepest aspirations: making a measurable difference in the lives of others in a world riddled with social injustices. Through experience with my own mental health challenges and watching others endure similar challenges that went unaddressed, I developed a deep understanding of social justice with a focus on communities that are often overlooked such as those living with mental health challenges or disabilities. As a neurodivergent person of color, I am all too familiar with feelings of not belonging and observing how many people can experience discrimination whether it be through large institutions or smaller social groups. These feelings can be particularly intense during transitional periods. During my senior year of college, I was given the opportunity to work with the Arc Jacksonville and AmeriCorps. The timing of this opportunity worked out perfectly since this was when I realized that despite being passionate about the social sciences and diversity, my studies wouldn't mean much unless I went out in my community and actually executed the work I preached so highly about. This included learning more about vulnerable communities, obtaining relevant training and experiences, and then working directly with these individuals. In this case, my largest audience is young people on the autism spectrum. These individuals are part of the on-campus transition program. This special program is built for those with intellectual and/or developmental differences who wish to enter a college environment and experience a traditional college experience despite their differences with the help of various mentors. As I spoke to my prospective supervisor at the time about my area of specialty, I immediately knew I wanted to become a wellness mentor above all my other choices. This is greatly since I understood deeply that factors such as age, race, socioeconomic status, and ability could greatly impact one's wellness, education, and health outcomes. This is even more critical when taking into account the health disparities and forms of exploitation people with disabilities are vulnerable to. I have the sole goal of ensuring the students I work with know how to care for themselves and live healthier and more independent lives. This includes facilitating open discussions among students on various educational topics ranging from proper nutrition to healthy relationships. However, no two days are the same and are often tailored to the student's needs. Some sessions are even dedicated to lesson plans on subjects students wish to learn more about, and visiting the university's fitness center and exercising with my students to support them in meeting their personal fitness goals. I engage with participants of the program weekly and report to my supervisor regularly. This experience has taught me and still currently is teaching me the importance of flexibility, emotional intelligence, and understanding when it comes to serving vulnerable and underrepresented groups. I truly learned firsthand why autism is often referred to as a spectrum since all the students I have worked with had differing personalities, preferences, and subjects they were passionate about. I learned that believing any minoritized group to be a monolith was not only a closeminded assumption, but an assumption that can reinforce the negative treatment of vulnerable individuals in society. This was one of many experiences that prompted my interest in social work and ultimately further my education. With a Master's in social work, I aim to make the world a more safe and accessible place for people who have historically not been given a seat at the table.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes physical or mental. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found the answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, It'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacted other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling. I haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level with personal goals of surrounding myself with a kind and socially aware community that I won't have to compromise my well-being for. This is particularly true since now I'm all too familiar with the consequences of not looking after myself whether it'd be internally through my attitude and how I choose to think or externally through my behaviors. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. It solidified that while our society preaches for equality, there is much work to be done. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table as well as supporting other vulnerable groups who are at higher risk of experiencing mental health challenges and systemic oppression such as individuals living with disabilities and members of the LGBT community.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told my internal struggles didn't exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, It'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacted other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From that year forward, I’d seek counseling. I haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table as well as supporting other vulnerable groups such as individuals living with disabilities and members of the LGBT community.

I have always thought like a social scientist even before I knew about the field. Growing up, I thought critically about myself and the world since I quickly correlated factors such as age, race, and gender and one's quality of life. Growing up in a conservative black household raised questions. “What makes some people more sensitive to stress?” “Why was I encouraged to be hard like concrete?” “Why was it taboo for my grandmother or even my mother to simply talk about their mental health?” I've always wondered what determines a person's health outcomes. Who can have healthy amounts of sleep and who are the ones having sleepless nights? And what social, mental, and physical consequences lie ahead for each group? And most importantly who would have the advantage? I'd find answers during my first half of college. I would be in Arizona living with family -- a vegan family who had specific views about wellness. I’d see a holistic doctor when my primary didn’t have answers. I’d have bouts where I felt like I was dying for several minutes. Food stopped being appealing and I felt like I had a belly full of stones. Getting out of bed was like an Olympic sport. Despite being around loving family, I felt isolated as I observed my body and mind declining in a space that didn’t acknowledge mental health. I was told that my internal struggles did not exist. Black men were to be strong, black women resilient, so as a black nonbinary person, I struggled to find my place. These feelings traveled closely with me like a second skin. I'm connected to my culture, but not in a way that dismisses the mental health of racial minorities, and not in a way that wouldn’t allow trans people to be who they are. These would be my worst semesters of college where my grades suffered the most. Despite experiencing traditional medicine in Florida and holistic practices in Arizona, no doctor could narrow down the problem. It wouldn’t be until 2022 when I found answers from my gastroenterologist. I'd learn about my GI symptoms and my gut being my second brain. When my mental health was in shambles, It'd impact other areas of life. It served as a cautionary tale of the potential consequences if I didn't prioritize myself. I didn't want to know how the tale would end. What's psychological is biological, and I can’t be a good student if I'm not in good health. I learned firsthand how poor mental health impacted other areas of life and that for many, this is a daily battle. It made me reflect on the preventative measures that could be taken for everyday people. From my sophomore year forward, I’d seek counseling. I haven’t stopped going since. I make a purpose to connect with other black individuals passionate about mental health on a personal and professional level. Enduring these hardships gave me a deep understanding of social justice. While my situation was difficult, I realized many people within my community have mental health issues that have been unaddressed and have bled into other areas of life. Through the lived experiences of myself and others, I learned the importance of access to resources such as mental health services since without such services, we observe physical and psychological health consequences, particularly for marginalized communities who have higher risks of health disparities. With a master's in social work, I will fight to provide culturally competent care to ensure the mental and emotional well-being of racial minorities who have historically not been invited to the table.

Growing up, I have always observed social patterns. I have noticed the ways in which people were perceived and treated based on factors such as race, gender identity, and gender expression. As a queer person of color, I have watched and experienced LGBT-based discrimination in unique ways due to my intersecting identities. These experiences have shaped my passion for social justice and my desire to make a positive impact on society. I am particularly interested in the field of mental health because I believe it is an area where I can make a significant difference. Marginalized communities, including the LGBTQ+ community and people of color, have historically faced mental and physical health disparities compared to more privileged communities. These disparities are often due to a lack of access to culturally competent care and the stigma associated with seeking help. I want to change that. With a Master's in Social Work from Wayne State University, I plan to work in mental health counseling, focusing on marginalized communities. My goal is to provide a safe and supportive space for individuals who have been overlooked and underserved. I want to be part of the change that ensures everyone, regardless of their identity, has access to the mental health care they need. My journey has not been easy. In high school, I struggled academically and graduated with a GPA of 2.4. However, I did not let this define me. I worked hard in college and improved my GPA to 2.8. While my GPA may not be the highest, it reflects my determination and resilience. I have learned that success is not just about grades but also about the impact you make on others. At Jacksonville University during my undergrad year of college, I have been involved in various student organizations and activities that focus on social justice and mental health advocacy. These experiences have taught me the importance of community and the power of collective action. I have seen firsthand how support and understanding can transform lives, and I want to continue this work as a mental health counselor. I believe that everyone deserves to be heard and understood. As a non-binary, trans man, I understand the importance of having mental health professionals who can relate to and understand the unique challenges faced by LGBTQ+ individuals. I want to be that professional for others. In conclusion, I plan to use my education to make a positive impact on society by working in the field of mental health. I want to provide culturally competent care to marginalized communities and help reduce the mental health disparities they face. My passion for social justice and my personal experiences have prepared me for this work, and I am committed to making a measurable difference in the world around me.

"Always thinking' 'Why lips so big?'/ Was I too dark? Can they sense my fears?" "Industry Baby" and "Old Town Road" Artist Lil Nas X sings these somber lyrics that stray away from his usual eccentric style. "SUN GOES DOWN" is arguably the pop star's most vulnerable and tear-jerking single from his most recent album, "Montero" released in 2021. In the single, Lil Nas X also discusses the realization that he is gay, but isn't at a point where he is prideful of that fact. He even discusses not wanting to be alive due to these deep feelings of isolation he feels as a young black gay man. This song is honest and does not hold back, however in the second half of the song he sings "And I'm happy by the way/ That I made that jump that leap of faith/ I'm happy that it all worked out for me/ I'ma make my fans so proud of me." The song's message is vital for young queer people of color like me to hear because the existence of minorities is not solely suffering. While we may not all become pop stars, Lil Nas X reminds us that there is another side to everything. It is a song that makes me feel heard and seen when I am sad because it reminds me that despite many of the personal struggles I face as a black trans person in the South, I will have a time when I will be able to be my unfiltered and most authentic self without any worries of what others think.

Oscar Micheaux was one of the greatest minds I learned about in college as a film major. Despite having all odds against him in a predominantly white and discriminatory industry, Micheaux became the first commercially successful black filmmaker in American History. Despite the shoestring budget and working through the production process mostly on his own, he still chose to make art. Through his work, Micheaux showed that he valued his community and where he came from since his work featured predominantly black casts. For once, authentic black human beings and not white actors in blackface were being shown on screen, and these black people got to be the main characters. The subject matter he discussed was striking for the early 1900s. His work cast light on social issues such as systemic racism and interracial relationships, hot button topics that are still relevant in this day and age. As someone who also studies sociology and is passionate about representation and giving back to marginalized communities, I not only admire but identify deeply with Oscar Micheaux. His most famous work, however, is a feature-length film called "Within Our Gates." This film was a direct response to D. W. Griffith's "Birth of a Nation," the 1915 blockbuster that glorified the Ku Klux Klan and showcased horrifically racist imagery. Someone being able to do this despite living in a world where films like this were acceptable, shows the power of Micheaux, and his legacy. His story inspires me as a young black filmmaker as we have experienced similar obstacles despite living in vastly different time periods. Micheaux paved the way for contemporary black filmmakers to thrive and seeing that makes me believe I can succeed, despite the deep racism in the history of film.

Studying film and sociology, I intend to use the knowledge I've acquired to give back to my community in impactful ways. As an aspiring filmmaker who is a minority, I want my work to highlight not only the struggles, but the joys and mundane life of people of color with intersectional identities. Knowing that the media has a lot of power in our society, I also understand that certain groups go misrepresented if they are represented at all. Throughout film history, the depiction of people of color has been told through a skewed lens, and I want to be part of the change in how people of color are represented in cinema. Through screenwriting and video production, I wish to not only tell entertaining stories, but to bring education and powerful messages to mainstream film and television. Through Sociology, I have learned how specific social groups are more susceptible to discrimination, poverty, illness, and other hardships based on factors like gender, race, sexuality, and other factors. Regardless of the progress I make through my work in film, I want to take the negative knowledge I have about the world we live in and use my privilege to help minority groups and give back to my community. This includes donating to shelters that support larger causes and becoming involved in nonprofit organizations that I am passionate about.

While I succeed in independent work, in bigger, more strenuous projects, I am more than willing to utilize those around me. When I require help, I am not afraid to communicate my needs to others and organize study groups with myself and my peers. In this method of studying, I can combine my strengths with my peers as we strive for a common goal. It also can build the quality time I have with my friends which can be hard to do in the middle of a semester. On my own, however, I have succeeded by using platforms made for students including Quizlet and Grammarly to maximize my chances of success. When using study platforms like Quizlet, I also make sure that I am always consistent when I study studying at least an hour a day before any kind of exam. When all else fails, I'll write down terms I have trouble familiarizing myself with and even say them out loud. I do this until it feels like a natural part of my speech and thought process. One of the many things I have learned in Sociology is that the more familiar and exposed we are to something, the more we can internalize and accept the information until it feels normal.

The future of black mental health is dependent on crushing stigma. In my ideal world, the community will do a better job at communicating with each other and truly listening to others instead of just hearing them. Black people share a unique experience collectively in this country despite their background. Within our own communities, it’s not uncommon to have an authority figure that invalidates ones emotions because they don’t understand them, disciplines children for showing telltale signs of mental illness, or even denying past traumas through the form of gaslighting. Ideally, I wish we lived in a world where black people in general didn’t have a taboo around emotional sensitivity, mental illness, therapy, and other issues in that nature. A lot of these issues root in white supremacy. The argument that during slavery, African captives were subhuman and couldn’t truly feel pain or emotion in the same way white people did was a common argument used to justify the treatment of said captives. Despite slavery being abolished, we still live in a country riddled with medical racism, and a media industry that support or portray these harmful ideas. Not all black people are strong or loud. Considering what we have been through as a community, the strong black trope is harmful since black people are held to a higher standard of emotional resilience than anyone else. But that’s the issue. We are just like everyone else and should not be treated differently based off of race. When we normalize black people having to always be strong despite the odds and nothing else, it almost like we are saying someone can’t be black and display emotional vulnerability or deviate from black stereotypes. This has created generations of black sheep and black children who feel isolated from their own community while being ostracized by the rest of the United States. Trauma is stored in the genes and can be passed down generationally. For example, a fair number of black people have fears of dogs and swimming. These phobias are specific and not coincidental. Whether we are discussing the original runaway slave patrol, or the police today, it’s not uncommon for police to have dogs on the job that would maul black people. Segregation created divided public swimming areas, but even in spaces intended for black people, they were assaulted with acid by violent white people. Trauma can make a change in the DNA which can trigger certain survival responses in the means of self protection even in a mundane situation such as visiting a friend who happens to have a pit bull and a swimming pool in the back yard. The violence and systemic racism directed towards black people in particular has led to the downfall of the the community’s mental and physical health throughout the years. Systemic racism will not be solved overnight, but it should be a goal toward the idea of black healing since we have already been through so much. Since we and other racial minorities are very likely to have mental health issues, we should have some of the simplest access to mental health services in a country where that is a privilege to even out the odds. Equal accessibility creates more equal opportunities, something communities of color have been historically lacking.