As the oldest of three, I often mentally balance my passion-driven aspirations and the responsibility to provide for my family as soon as possible. I’ve always felt the weight of my family’s financial struggles and equated extreme independence to being the “perfect” daughter, asking for nothing yet achieving everything. By the time I graduated middle school, I was top of my class and the most alone I had ever been in my life. That coupled with a deadly virus left me sequestered in my room twenty-four hours a day, where I could no longer ignore the gaping hole in my chest reminding me that my self-worth relied entirely on grade percentages. That my every action was motivated by my need for parental validation. I had no hobbies, no special interests, no friends, no identity. Days turned into weeks turned into months, all blurring together. Until one morning, awoken by the sound of power tools, I rose from my bed to see my dad in the backyard through my window. Intrigued, I ran downstairs to see what he was up to. A greenhouse, he said, to develop and send blueprints to our relatives in Rwanda. The notion of an idea forming in your head becoming a tangible structure captivated me, and I was soon completely engulfed. Sunrise to sunset, I held tape measures, steadied ladders and observed as I assisted my dad in constructing our perfect greenhouse. My germinating interest in our project grew parallel to the project’s progression, the growing passion waking me up in the morning before my father’s power tools. Eager to make contributions that were all my own, I downloaded SketchUp on my laptop to work on a digital model of the greenhouse to show my relatives along with photos that I uploaded to a website I made. My summertime hobby turned into a passion as the school year approached. Seeing how an idea could escape the confines of your mind to become a tangible piece of art, made solid with math and physics, elicited a deep longing in me; I sought out anything that would immerse me into this new world I found myself intoxicated by. Through engineering and Autodesk classes, internships, and youth councils, my identity finally had something to latch onto. Outside approval was no longer the source of academic motivation, but rather the wanting to grasp and hold onto every piece of information about engineering I could. Of course, the path has not always been clear; being a black woman in the engineering space has forced me to trudge five extra steps just to get to the starting line. Being the only woman of color, most times only woman, in spaces that were not designed for me, having to balance my individual voice with the expectations being imposed on me by those who have never heard me speak. I hope to reinvent those spaces I was forced to fit into for those who feel ostracized in similar ways. In this way I can offer a new and possibly life altering perspective of what an engineer can look like. These are the feelings I hope to evoke in others through my work as an engineer. This is what excites me the most, reimagining what buildings can and should be to fit the needs of an ever expanding and advancing society. I want someone to walk into a building I had a hand in creating and marvel at how an inanimate object could feel so organic and accessible to everyone. Because everyone deserves opportunities to find their purpose, the way I did.

As the oldest of three, I often mentally balance my passion-driven aspirations and the responsibility to provide for my family as soon as possible. I’ve always felt the weight of my family’s financial struggles and equated extreme independence to being the “perfect” daughter, asking for nothing yet achieving everything. By the time I graduated middle school, I was top of my class and the most alone I had ever been in my life. That coupled with a deadly virus left me sequestered in my room twenty-four hours a day, where I could no longer ignore the gaping hole in my chest reminding me that my self-worth relied entirely on grade percentages. That my every action was motivated by my need for parental validation. I had no hobbies, no special interests, no friends, no identity. Days turned into weeks turned into months, all blurring together. Until one morning, awoken by the sound of power tools, I rose from my bed to see my dad in the backyard through my window. Intrigued, I ran downstairs to see what he was up to. A greenhouse, he said, to develop and send blueprints to our relatives in Rwanda. The notion of an idea forming in your head becoming a tangible structure captivated me, and I was soon completely engulfed. Sunrise to sunset, I held tape measures, steadied ladders and observed as I assisted my dad in constructing our perfect greenhouse. My germinating interest in our project grew parallel to the project’s progression, the growing passion waking me up in the morning before my father’s power tools. Eager to make contributions that were all my own, I downloaded SketchUp on my laptop to work on a digital model of the greenhouse to show my relatives along with photos that I uploaded to a website I made. My summertime hobby turned into a passion as the school year approached. Seeing how an idea could escape the confines of your mind to become a tangible piece of art, made solid with math and physics, elicited a deep longing in me; I sought out anything that would immerse me into this new world I found myself intoxicated by. Through engineering and Autodesk classes, internships, and youth councils, my identity finally had something to latch onto. Outside approval was no longer the source of academic motivation, but rather the wanting to grasp and hold onto every piece of information about engineering I could. Of course, the path has not always been clear; being a black woman in the engineering space has forced me to trudge five extra steps just to get to the starting line. Being the only woman of color, most times only woman, in spaces that were not designed for me, having to balance my individual voice with the expectations being imposed on me by those who have never heard me speak. I hope to reinvent those spaces I was forced to fit into for those who feel ostracized in similar ways. In this way I can offer a new and possibly life altering perspective of what an engineer can look like. These are the feelings I hope to evoke in others through my work as an engineer. This is what excites me the most, reimagining what buildings can and should be to fit the needs of an ever expanding and advancing society. I want someone to walk into a building I had a hand in creating and marvel at how an inanimate object could feel so organic and accessible to everyone. Because everyone deserves opportunities to find their purpose, the way I did.

As the oldest of three, I often mentally balance my passion-driven aspirations and the responsibility to provide for my family as soon as possible. I’ve always felt the weight of my family’s financial struggles and equated extreme independence to being the “perfect” daughter, asking for nothing yet achieving everything. By the time I graduated middle school, I was top of my class and the most alone I had ever been in my life. That coupled with a deadly virus left me sequestered in my room twenty-four hours a day, where I could no longer ignore the gaping hole in my chest reminding me that my self worth relied entirely on grade percentages. That my every action was motivated by my need for parental validation. I had no hobbies, no special interests, no friends, no identity. Days turned into weeks turned into months, all blurring together. Until one morning, awoken by the sound of power tools, I rose from my bed to see my dad in the backyard through my window. Intrigued, I ran downstairs to see what he was up to. A greenhouse, he said, to develop and send blueprints to our relatives in Rwanda. The notion of an idea forming in your head becoming a tangible structure captivated me, and I was soon completely engulfed. Sunrise to sunset, I held tape measures, steadied ladders and observed as I assisted my dad in constructing our perfect greenhouse. My germinating interest in our project grew parallel to the project’s progression, the growing passion waking me up in the morning before my father’s power tools. Eager to make contributions that were all my own, I downloaded SketchUp on my laptop to work on a digital model of the greenhouse to show my relatives along with photos that I uploaded to a website I made. My summertime hobby turned into a passion as the school year approached. Seeing how an idea could escape the confines of your mind to become a tangible piece of art, made solid with math and physics, elicited a deep longing in me; I sought out anything that would immerse me into this new world I found myself intoxicated by. Through engineering and Autodesk classes, internships, and youth councils, my identity finally had something to latch onto. Outside approval was no longer the source of academic motivation, but rather the wanting to grasp and hold onto every piece of information about engineering I could. Of course the path has not always been clear; being a black woman in the engineering space has forced me to trudge five extra steps just to get to the starting line. Being the only woman of color, most times only woman, in spaces that were not designed for me, having to balance my individual voice with the expectations being imposed on me by those who have never heard me speak. I hope to reinvent those spaces I was forced to fit into for those who feel ostracized in similar ways. In this way I can offer a new and possibly life altering perspective of what an engineer can look like. These are the feelings I hope to evoke in others through my work as an engineer. This is what excites me the most, reimagining what buildings can and should be to fit the needs of an ever expanding and advancing society. I want someone to walk into a building I had a hand in creating and marvel at how an inanimate object could feel so organic and accessible to everyone. Because everyone deserves opportunities to find their purpose, the way I did.

Energy put towards thoughts about the future provokes conflicting feelings, teetering between excited anticipation and anxious dread. I often lay awake at night mentally balancing my passion-driven aspirations and the responsibility to provide for my family as soon as possible. As the oldest of three children, I’ve always felt the weight of my family’s financial struggles and the obligation to do anything and everything I could to contribute. I suppressed my desire to be put in sports, despite my longing to join my friends and be a part of a community. I would decline birthday party and sleepover invitations before even asking my parents, scared to be a burden. Instead, I would lock myself in my room, agonizing over homework on my own. I equated these practices of extreme independence to being the “perfect” oldest daughter, not asking for anything yet achieving everything. By the time I graduated middle school, I was top of my class and the most alone I had ever been in my life. It didn’t help that a deadly virus had just broken out, forcing me and everyone else in the country to quarantine until further notice. Sequestered in my room twenty-four hours a day, I could no longer ignore the gaping hole in my chest reminding me that my self-worth relied entirely on test scores and grade percentages. That my every action was motivated by my need for parental validation. That I had no hobbies, no special interests, no personal connections outside my family. I had no identity. Days turned into weeks turned into months, sunrise to sunset, all blurring together. Until one early morning, awoken by the sound of a power saw, I rose from my bed to see my dad tinkering around in the backyard through my window. Intrigued, I ran downstairs to see what he was up to. A greenhouse, he said, to develop and send the blueprints to our relatives in Rwanda. The notion of an idea forming in your head becoming a tangible structure captivated me, and soon I was completely engulfed in the project. Sunrise to sunset, I held tape measures, steadied ladders, lowered wood planks, and observed as I assisted my dad in designing, planning out, and constructing the perfect solar powered greenhouse. My germinating interest in our project grew parallel to the project’s progression, the growing passion in me waking me up in the morning before my father’s power tools. Eager to make contributions that were all my own, I found and downloaded SketchUp on my laptop to work on a digital model of the greenhouse to show my relatives along with photos that I uploaded to a website I made. My summertime hobby turned into a passion as the school year approached, with my father’s ecological brick machines showcased on my website and my extended family with their very own instruction manual. Seeing how an idea could escape the confines of your mind to become a tangible piece of art, made solid with math and physics, elicited a deep longing in me; I sought out anything that would immerse me into this new world I found myself intoxicated by. Through engineering and Autodesk classes, internships, and youth councils, my identity finally had something to latch onto. Outside approval was no longer the source of academic motivation, but rather the wanting to grasp and hold onto every piece of information about engineering I could. Of course the path has not been clear; being a black woman in the engineering space has forced me to trudge five more steps just to get to the starting line. I’ve often been the only woman of color, most times only woman, in spaces that were not designed for me, having to balance my individual voice with the expectations being imposed on me by those who have never heard me speak. My saving grace was finding and building a community of people who share a fervor for seeing your imagination stand tall right in front of you. A physical representation of all your hard work, dedication, and individualism. I find this perhaps the most captivating about engineering; it’s an outlet for expressing my most authentic and creative self through the medium I most enjoy. I hope to reinvent those spaces I was forced to fit into for those who feel ostracized in similar ways. In this way I can offer a new and possibly life altering perspective of what an engineer can look like. These are the feelings I hope to evoke in others through my work as an engineer. This is what excites me the most, reimagining what buildings can and should be to fit the needs of an ever expanding and advancing society. I want someone to walk into a building I had a hand in creating and marvel at how an inanimate object could feel so organic and accessible to everyone. Because everyone deserves opportunities to find their purpose, the way I did.