Makeup is my one true love. When I sit down and do my makeup I enter paradise, a place in which I am the ultimate ruler and a respected servant. There are no rules for art, and makeup has allowed me to untether my inner artist. Sharing this love has allowed me to create a platform that aims to uplift and educate black women. My journey started on Instagram, as a way to keep busy during quarantine. I was tired of consuming bags of chips and containers of Oreos while binge-watching The Walking Dead. Before COVID-19 hit the nation, I was a full-time college student with a part-time retail job. Accustomed to my pre-Covid routine, the lack of a timed schedule felt so strange. All the days morphed into one, it became a dark and lonely time for me. Who would’ve known that an outlet of my self-expression would become a safe space for black women to learn from me? My Instagram page, not only discusses makeup but I explore topics like mental health, sexuality, and self-love. Even though makeup is my primary focus, being a queer, first-generational American, I am the epitome of intersectionality. My grandmother, who is my muse, was born in 1950 and only started wearing complexion products in the late 1990s. I remember when I was a teenager, my grandma told me how lucky I was to have access to the products I do. She told me she only wore drawn-on eyebrows and lipstick because “those were the only products that were dark enough and showed up on my skin”. This broke my heart. The makeup industry has a notorious history of excluding black women. My favorite thing about my Instagram page is when women ask me my opinion on beauty products. What they are truly inquiring is, “is this product black people friendly?” This is a concept that I believe is exclusively comprehended by black individuals. For instance, sunscreen has a white cast but is labeled suitable for all skin types. Eyeshadow palettes are raved to be super pigmented but do not show up on our complexions. Lipsticks are labeled nude but are selectively appropriate for skin colors that are not melanated. Cases like these are the prime reason why Black-owned brands are desperately needed in the makeup community. I’ve connected with many women from across the world. All of this was made possible through our love for makeup. This was all a happy accident, but I have never been prouder. My future goals include working with Fenty Beauty, Juvia’s Place, and The Crayon Case. Beauty is a big part of most women’s lives, and for a long time, black women have felt ostracized by the beauty industry. That time is up, I won’t back down and that is a well-needed win for the black community. I plan to continue my pursuit in empowering all black women, facilitating conversations around inclusive initiatives, and redesigning the makeup industry. I’m coming full force, there’s no stopping me.

My greatest accomplishment is graduating from college. I am a daughter of immigrants and the first generation born in America. My mother and grandmother migrated from the small Caribbean nation of Antigua and Barbuda. My mother’s homeland is a poor country with a lack of opportunities for lower-class residents. There were a few options for the lower class women in Antigua, to become a farmer or do sex work. For the less fortunate, the latter is a very common money-making practice in Antigua. My grandmother had a friend in middle school that began selling her body at the young age of 15. She did not want that life for herself or anyone else in her family. My grandmother didn’t have much, being one of seven children. This has driven her to want to give the world to her grandchildren. I am proud to be a part of the handful of people in my family that has graduated from college, but aside from my family, I am proud of myself. In my senior year of high school, I had little to no thoughts of college. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to go but rather I had a nonchalant attitude about it. Getting into a community college was easy, but the experience of being a college student was nothing like I’ve experienced before. As a college student, one of the biggest lessons I learned is self-advocacy. In my freshmen year, I took a course and was graded an incomplete as a final grade. I was confused because I was excelling in that class. I turned to my resources, remembering that the professor gave us his number at the beginning of the semester to contact him if we had any questions. After calling him several times, I was able to speak with him and resolve the issue. I had never done that before and was used to high school, where teachers chased after students to submit work and score high on exams. I quickly learned that in college, you have to be both, the student and the advocate. Getting my associates was not an easy task. There were sleepless nights, long hours at the computer lab, attending tutor sessions, and working long hours at my retail job. I had never done much on my own before and always had my family close by. I did that, on my own. Graduating college showed me I can do anything monumental or minute that I set my mind on. I am now enrolled at a four-year university, on the path of getting my bachelor’s degree. I hope to graduate with honors and to use my degree in journalism to uncover personal stories and unknown issues that inflict society. Topics such as human trafficking and air pollution are of interest to me. It is common for people to get their information from the news and that is their limited knowledge of world events. In journalism, what is trendy isn’t the only thing that is discussed. I love my family, my mother and grandmother fill me up with so much love and constant encouragement. I make them proud because I am the living embodiment of their aspirations coming to this country. I am living the American Dream.

The wake of the Black Lives Matter Movement opened my eyes to the horror of systematic racism and its disproportionate effect on black and brown people. I was mortified by the news and social media coverage that seemed to be playing on a 62-day loop. There was not a day that went by, in the summer of 2020, that I did not think “I could’ve been a victim.” The events of the past summer reminded me of why I am continuing my journey into higher education. I want to become a criminal defense attorney. I know that pursuing a career in this field will allow me to better myself and the people in my community. In my free time, I enjoy creative writing and participating in student advocacy. I have a passion for expressing myself through words. Since my freshman year of college, George Orwell has been my biggest inspiration. I often find myself trying to match the way he brings words to life. My favorite genre to write is fiction because I am in charge of everything and anything goes. I step out of my comfort zone by submitting my pieces to online contests to be featured in magazines and poetry books. I have learned that I like spreading my art through different mediums, it reminds me that in a black and white world there is indeed color. "She’s the First" is a student advocacy club at my college where I voice my concerns with school policy and current events. At first, I joined the club to make friends as a new student, but I quickly realized that being around like-minded people would be a phenomenal opportunity to network and expand my knowledge. My favorite event was a panel with Senate majority leader Chuck Schumer on canceling student debt. My fellow clubmates had personal experiences they shared with the Senator and voiced concerns that were held by their peers. Being present amongst the ideas and passion, only inspired me more. I felt empowered to be listened to by Senator Schumer and learning about his strategy on how he saw best fit to combat the issue. At this moment, I am extremely passionate about period poverty. Period poverty is the inadequate access to menstrual products, as well as washing facilities and sanitary products. This is a global issue, even here in the United States. It saddens me deeply, as a woman who menstruates, to know some girls miss school because they don’t have a pad or have to use an unhygienic piece of cardboard when they menstruate. This issue also presents itself with flaws in public assistance programs. Menstruation products can not be purchased with food stamps or WIC. As a result of this, women are forced to sell their food stamps or steal to get these necessities, which leads to a high population of low-income women in jail that are unable to pay bail. Which in turn, increases the incarnation population and the cost of imprisonment. This is a problematic issue and I desperately want to be at the forefront of change.

I love playing dress-up. Playing in my grandma's closet was like entering Narnia, a world full of wonder and excitement! But it wasn’t always like this. In the community I was raised in, brands like Air Jordan, Ralph Lauren, and True religion were very popular. My mom couldn’t afford to spend so much money on one item, but that didn’t stop me from looking decent as a child. Due to this, kids bullied me, this made me feel poor and disparaged. My grandma, alongside being a hard worker, is a fashionista. Whenever I was around my grandma, name brands didn’t matter. She always dressed to impress and that amazed me! “Everywhere I go, people have to admire me”, my grandma once said. She is very experimental with colors, patterns, and fabrics. I can recall this one time my grandma bought the heel-less platforms, made famous by Lady Gaga. After that, I thought my grandmother was the coolest person ever! Wigs, stilettos, fur coats, that is my safe place. It is this early exposure to the fashion world that seasoned my interest. When I was in high school I discovered thrifting. As a child, I always wore my sister’s hand-me-downs and that was my version of vintage clothing. Coming across as thrifting is one of the best things to happen in my life. As I began accumulating more clothes, I grew more interested in styling outfits. Snake print with sequence, denim, and ruffles, leather with chiffon. I was all over the place, but I was comfortable with myself. Through the clothes I wore, I was able to express myself and feel more comfortable in my body. At thrift stores, everything was always so affordable and of good quality. I felt all-knowing and powerful there, the thrift store is my kingdom. Fashion is important to me because it reminds me of my grandma and it makes me happy. Life is very short and for a large portion of mine, I spent it unhappy. Discovering my passions have allowed me to be a happier person and reduce my stress levels. Through doing this, I have started making my own clothes! Upcycling has been a blessing for me, and I am happy it is in my life. As a person of color, I don’t see a lot of people who look like me wearing alternative fashion. Representation is important, young black girls need to see that it is accepted to wear what they please even though it is not the norm. When I was in my two-year institution, I came to the realization that I live in New York City, one of the few fashion capitals in the world! It wasn’t until then that I began to see black people dressing alternatively. I felt at home all over again. I saw my grandma do it, and she is happiest when she dresses as she pleases. I am proud to be my grandma’s fashionable granddaughter, taking on the world with one outfit at a time.

I went to the New York City pride parade for the first time when I was 16 years old. I grew up in a religious family that shunned the LGBT+ community, and labeled them as sinners. I adapted that mentality and thought the same. Realizing that I was queer was a mind blowing and scary realization. I confronted my bias toward LGBT folks through education. I knew my family wouldn’t accept me, but the LGBT+ community welcomed me with open arms. Going to the pride parade was an act of liberation, I’ve never felt more like myself.

My biggest inspiration in life is my grandparents. My grandmother was born in the small West Indian Island of Antigua. She migrated to the United States for more life opportunities. She worked as a housekeeper to middle-class families to save money for her and my mom to migrate to New York. My grandmother became a United States citizen in 1982. My grandma always said that was one of her proudest moments. My grandfather was born in 1942, in the deeply segregated south. He was the bravest person I knew. Being born at a critical point of black liberation, he experienced so much in his life. I remember stories he told me when I was in middle school about segregation when he was a child. His mother worked at a diner and for him to enter the establishment he had to use the colored-only entrance. Another appalling story was once when he was walking home from school, he saw a man lynched on a tree. I was horrified to hear such tales, but that was his experience, and I am happy he shared it with me. May his soul rest in peace. The hope embodied by my grandparents drives me to be a better version of myself. When I reflect on my attitude about life, I think of them, and the obstacles they endured. Hardship never stopped them from making a life for themselves. I hope to be like my grandparents, to see opportunity in face of all odds.

One day, I was watching an episode of The Casagrandes, an animated television show on Nickelodeon. In this episode, the main character was trying to spend the day with her mom who only got one day off in a month. She pushed herself to do everything her daughter wanted to do and in end, she could not do all the things and felt terrible. That is my mom. I am the child of a single mother. My mother’s name is Shennette and she is the most hardworking and caring person I know. My mother had my sister and me in her early twenties. Growing up, we watched her commit to working long hours and overtime to provide for us. Because of this, we did not see her often and spent more time with other adults in the family. As a single mother, Shennette worked hard to provide for her children, often leaving herself behind. Despite my mother’s long hours at work, she and I have a close relationship. However, my grandmother did not have the best relationship with my mother when she was growing up. This flaw in their mother-daughter relationship led my mother to make a promise to have a close relationship with her children. In 2020, my mother tore her meniscus and had to have it surgically repaired. She was out of work for six months, her time away from the workplace allowed us to reconnect and create memories that we can look back on in the future. I remember when my sister and I were in grade school, and my mother would adjust her schedule to make it to school events. She could not make it to every event, and those were the ones I felt the saddest at, despite having my grandmother and aunt present and cheering us on. Events such as ballet recitals, academic award ceremonies, and sporting games, my mom would not be at everyone but the ones she attended, I was the happiest. My mother’s work consumed her, but it never clouded her dreams of continuing with her higher education. When my sister and I were in the ladder part of high school, my mother went back to college to get her associate's degree in Surgical Technology and it was extremely difficult to manage schoolwork, work, and being a mom. Seeing my mom in action has taught a plethora of lessons I will carry with me in life. One lesson is not to be afraid to ask for help. My mother would often go above and beyond her abilities to do everything for us, and it took a toll on her. She often operated on a few hours of sleep to pick us up from school and help us with our homework. Asking my grandmother for help was a difficult task because of their relationship but when they overcame the issues in their relationship, the best times would be when my sister and I went to our grandmother’s house. My mom was finally able to get the appropriate amount of sleep, get laundry done, and complete all the other errands that she needed to without the stress of thinking about who is going to watch us. The second lesson I learned from my mother is to be wary of people, trusting someone is a process. My mother would always say that “people can be very deceiving and it’s not wise to trust someone upon the first encounter.” This lesson is most important to me because it serves as a protective message that will always ring in my ears when I encounter a new person. Often, when you want something so bad, you tend to ignore the warning signs. It is important to look at everyone and every new situation with an inquisitive eye. The right people will understand why you are asking specific questions, and the wrong ones will get annoyed and run. This lesson can be applied to different situations that range from choosing someone to do business with to making new friends. I use this lesson daily and it keeps both myself and my sister safe. Of the two lessons I learned from my mother, I have struggled with both, being weary of others and asking for help. However, when I did, I rarely regretted it. In the future I see myself attending law school and working on my modeling career. I would like to be a criminal defense lawyer. I am inspired to work with people of the same demographic, people that look like me are being disproportionately affected by the justice system and I believe it is my moral duty to help others. I also have dreams of pursuing a career in journalism as well. I see journalism as a way of storytelling for the voiceless and underserved. I want to be the change; it is my calling. Lastly, modeling is an artistic outlet for me to express myself through photography and fashion. I have been able to network with other models, gain inspiration and give inspiration to women of color in a society where we are not the beauty standard. Winning this scholarship would help me tremendously. I am on track to graduate in the Spring of 2023. Receiving this scholarship will ease the financial burden of the cost of school. Also, the hours I must work to pay for my school tuition will be reduced immensely. During this free time, I will be able to find an internship and volunteer to join the fight in ending period poverty and participating in “Know Your Rights” workshops for young people in my community.

I started selling on a second-hand platform called Depop in 2017. At first, I sold clothes and shoes from my closet that I was no longer was interested in wearing. It was not until 2020 that I understood that Depop could be taken seriously to make money, and that is what I did. When COVID-19 consumed the world, I looked at my closet from my thrift indulges and my once-worn birthday outfits to minimize my closet. I gathered 20 items, went to my local park, and asked my god sister for assistance with photographing me modeling the clothes. As a result of this, my sales nearly doubled. I have learned plenty of lessons from having my shop. One of the many lessons I learned is, consistency is the answer to all. Once my sales doubled on my Depop, I decided to source new clothes from local thrift stores and my grandma’s closet. If I were not always sourcing, my shop would not have had the opportunity to enter Depop’s Road to Top Seller Program. My work ethic rarely goes unrecognized, but it was shocking that Depop’s staff acknowledged me out of millions of sellers on the app. Depop saw the potential I had and gave a helping hand in navigating how to be a successful seller. In the midst of this, I even got featured in one of my favorite YouTuber's videos for my success with my Depop shop! Another lesson I learned is the importance of honesty. The customers that browse through my shop and make purchases mean a lot to me. So much so, that when I am asked a question about sizing or potential fit, I am honest. It is important because, not only does my rating for the transaction rely on it, but the devotion of customers depends upon it. I always put the customer first and run my shop with ethical practices that will provide an honest shopping experience. In addition, transparency. When selling secondhand clothing, items are not always in perfect condition. As a transparent shop owner, I note all imperfections under every item description. These imperfections can range from stains on a sweater to creases in a pair of shoes. Transparency allows the customer to know exactly what they are buying and leaves no room for surprises upon receiving their order from my shop. I am motivated to succeed by my grandmother. She migrated to America in 1980, from Antigua, she made a way for herself with the little that she had. My grandmother is one of the hardest-working people I know. She worked three jobs and sold cultural food on the weekends at our church to make extra money. She taught me that it is alright to want more for yourself, and sometimes that means using the skills you have to save money for a rainy day. By combining my grandmother’s work ethic and my love for second-hand clothing, I have become an amazing seller. In the future, I hope to open my own second-hand curated store. There is such a life at secondhand shops, the spirits of people who once roamed this earth had some of their best moments in the clothes there. Getting the experience through Depop and other reselling platforms has been a tremendous help. I have been able to increase my understanding of fashion through the decades and forecast trends. The lessons I have learned, I want to be kept as practices I have in my business. I cannot wait to see what the future has in store for my Depop shop!

Mental health has been a part of my life longer than I could grasp the understanding of the term. I am West Indian, and in my community, mental health is a very taboo topic. Having a mental issue is considered an embarrassment and a source of shame in one’s family. I came to understand this at a young age. My grandfather passed away at the start of my entering high school, and before him, I have never had a close relative die. It was a strange phenomenon. The kitchen chair where he always sat, was empty. No more sneaking me and sister candy after bedtime, or warm kisses on the forehead, all that just vanished. In my family, we do not talk about our feelings. The norm is to bottle your feelings up and wait until the top is about to burst to express how you feel about something. I took this destructive method with me through high school. In the years prior in middle school, I was popular, people knew me. My friend group was fantastic, I adored them. As that chapter of my life ended, we all split up for high school, and I had to start all over again. I had not realized that from the first grade until eighth grade I was surrounded by the same people, we moved from elementary to middle school together. There was not a drastic change in my surroundings until I started high school. With the change of schools and my grandfather's passing, I was disconsolate, and it was a foreign feeling. I have never felt sadness that was not caused by a scrawny boy or from being disciplined. My best friend, my grandpa parted this earth, and all mentioning of him ceased. He was dead and buried and that was all. My grandmother who was married to my grandpa for 20 years never spoke about him; I just could not comprehend it. I did as I saw and kept the colossal-sized elephant in the room to myself. Keeping my sorrow inside, took a toll on me. The way I knew how to cope with the overwhelming and new feelings I was experiencing was through self-destruction. I was not the person I remembered myself to be. I was sleeping more, crying regularly, skipping school, and doing drugs. I was a shell of Milan. Due to me regularly skipping school, all my bad behavior caught up to me. There was a possibility I was not going to graduate high school on time. I knew my grandfather would not expect this from me, he would be disappointed. I knew what I had to do, I began attending school every day, and I joined the wrestling team at my school. Entering college was one of the best things to happen to me. At my two-year community college, there was free counseling and therapy and for a few months, I walked past the office, skeptical to go inside. For most of my young adult life, I saw mental health as a bad thing. “I’m not crazy”, I thought. That was my irrational reasoning for quite some time. One day I pushed past all of my loud thoughts, and I went into the office. I am so happy I did. Through therapy and talking about my anguish, I have learned that talking about death and pain is a part of the healing and grieving process. I believe therapy is not a shameful thing to require in life. It is a healthy way of dealing with issues and past traumas. For a while, I was fearful of telling anyone I went to therapy. I have now overcome that fear. My journey with mental health taught me to be honest with myself. It is quite easy to deceive yourself, but honesty can be difficult at times. Using tactics like journaling and talking to myself in the mirror about what someone said or how an event that I heard about made me feel, I have come to understand who I am. I felt so lost for such a long time because I lost my sense of self, I have now come to see I am discovering a whole new person and I am falling in love with her. It is imperative to me to talk about issues in my personal life and the world with those around me. Upon beginning this practice, I started to make connections with people I did not think I would have anything in common with. This has enhanced my relationship with others by allowing me to be vulnerable, make friends and build stronger bonds with my family. I do still miss my grandfather and I wish he were here to see all my accomplishments thus far. I honor him by continuing with my higher education, I know he would be very proud of me. I am grateful I started talking about my struggle with mental health because through talking I realized it does not have to be a struggle at all.