The smell of sea salt on beaches, cool breezes, palm trees, and curry: These are the things I mull over when life in the city consumes me. It reminds me that I am still, and forever will be, an island girl. I was born in the southernmost country in the Caribbean, the Land of the Hummingbird, better known as Trinidad and Tobago. Migrating from a small island to a big city in the United States made me feel hopeful, giddy, uncertain, and insignificant. My story is synonymous with a lot of immigrants. My newly divorced mother came to America so my siblings and I could have a better life, continuously sending money home to help support us. My household circumstances were unsafe, paired with adults who had gambling and alcohol addictions, resulting in years of abusive treatment. It’s almost comical to reminisce; my brother and I wished to God on chicken wishbones with our eyes shut tight; we silently hoped my mom would take us away from the abuse we encountered. In 2004, our wishes came true. I still remember my mom looking at the phone card she used to call and confront my dad. I remember the sound of the numbers beeping as she dialed his number. I remember looking at my older brother and seeing the panic on his face. We didn’t worry about our belongings or the friends we’d left behind. We would finally be with our mom. The wishbone worked; Brooklyn was my new home. Except, it didn’t feel like home, at least not at first. The cultural shock and environmental differences were challenging. My classmates made fun of my accent, so I tried to adopt theirs. My clothes were not name-brand, another source of mockery. I was used to a carefree wardrobe that included flip-flops, and I’d never looked at brands before. I could not fit in, no matter how hard I tried. My mom took me to a psychiatrist, who referred me to a counselor. Feelings of resentment for leaving my brother and me in Trinidad resurfaced. I skipped school, and my grades declined. After barely passing summer school, I enrolled in a high school with uniforms to blend in, but depression led me to drop out. Counseling helped me get back on track. I passed the GED on my first try and wrote down a list of dreams. College was at the top. As a first-generation student, I’ve had to figure out so much on my own, but I’ve never stopped trying. I now attend Brooklyn College, where I am dual-majoring in Communication Sciences and Disorders and Psychology, with minors in Neuroscience and Philosophy. This scholarship would lessen my financial strain and allow me to stay focused on my goal of earning an M.S. in Speech-Language Pathology, and eventually, a Ph.D., with a commitment to helping underrepresented and overlooked voices be heard. During my life’s obstacles, I’ve learned about resilience. No matter the circumstances, always remember your past does not define your future.

When my mother took part in my undergraduate research experience, I had no idea the results would foreshadow her future. I was examining cross-varietal speech patterns among Caribbean English speakers, and her speech rate was notably slower than the average participant’s. At the time, I interpreted it as natural variation within the dataset, perhaps an individual difference or a limitation of my study. Months later, she woke up blind in one eye, and shortly after was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Looking back, I realized that the earliest signs of neurological change had been present in her speech all along. That moment changed everything I thought I knew about communication. I began to think about how communication connects us and what it means when it begins to slip away. Not long after, my father survived a stroke that left him struggling to get words out. Watching both of my parents fight to regain what most of us take for granted showed me that communication is more than I ever presumed it to be. It is the means through which people exercise agency and sustain autonomy. It helps shape identity and creates a sense of belonging. A professor later encouraged me to apply to the National Science Foundation’s Research Experience for Undergraduates (NSF-REU) in 2021–2022. I was accepted, and that experience exposed me to the vastness of the field. Through the NSF-REU, I met researchers and clinicians whose passion for the field was contagious. They spoke about the urgent need for greater diversity and representation within the field. I became fascinated by how therapeutic intervention can help individuals rebuild their ability to communicate in all its forms. That experience also helped me find direction within the field. I became passionate about communication across contexts, especially in multilingual communities. My current interests include cross-cultural learning, code-switching, style-shifting, language acquisition, accent bias, pitch perception, and attitudes toward bilingualism. I’m also interested in neurogenic speech disorders and the emotional and cognitive dimensions of communication. Every form of communication, whether spoken, signed, written, or supported through alternative modalities, carries meaning and deserves to be respected. Living and studying in New York City has made this understanding even more meaningful. Children here grow up speaking multiple languages and dialects, often switching between them throughout the day. I have seen how these differences can be misunderstood or even pathologized in educational settings. I want to help change that. My goal is to become a Speech Language Pathologist who provides therapy that respects cultural and linguistic diversity, ensuring that every client’s way of communicating is seen as a strength, not a deficit. After earning my degree, I plan to pursue a master’s in Speech Language Pathology and eventually open a community-based clinic that offers affordable and culturally responsive therapy. I want to work with individuals and families who have limited access to speech and language services. I hope to contribute to research on neurogenic speech and language disorders and improve early identification of communication changes associated with conditions like Multiple Sclerosis. As a first-generation college student, I have learned persistence through challenge. Balancing work, research, and a 4.0 GPA has taught me that progress requires patience and purpose. This scholarship would ease financial strain and allow me to continue preparing for a career centered on helping individuals communicate in whatever way is most authentic to them. What interests me most about Communication Sciences and Disorders is that communication is never solely about speech and language. It is about the unique opportunity to support communication in ways that preserve a person’s agency and, more importantly, their connection, independence, and dignity.

At 15, I dropped out of high school, shaped by the instability of an abusive, substance-affected home. Raised by a single mother who fought her own battles, I learned early that survival was the priority, not dreams. However, earning my GED shifted something in me; I realized that maybe dreams weren’t just for other people. Perhaps they were allowed for me, too. That piece of paper wasn’t just a credential; it was my quiet rebellion against generational trauma. In 2021, I enrolled in college full-time while working over 35 hours a week. I’ve kept a 4.0 GPA, made the Dean’s List every semester, and recently transferred to Brooklyn College, where I’m double majoring in Communication Sciences and Disorders and Psychology. My goal is to become a Speech-Language Pathologist (SLP) who serves low-income and immigrant communities by supporting children and adults with genuine speech and language disabilities, while also advocating for those who are misdiagnosed due to cultural or linguistic differences. I’m actively working toward my goal through my coursework, community service, and continued advocacy for children from underserved backgrounds. I’ve tutored kids in reading, volunteered in food and clothing drives, and used my story to empower others who’ve been overlooked. No one should feel inadequate for how they speak, and everyone deserves support regardless of their background. Along the way, my mother, professors, and mentors have reminded me that this journey isn’t one I’ve had to walk entirely by myself. Today, I’m building a future that rewrites my past. Support from this scholarship would allow me to worry less about finances and give me the time and space to serve, research, and rise. One day, I’ll return the favor to others who need to be reminded of their worth, just as I once did.

Being a first-generation college student means everything to me. It’s not just a title; it’s a responsibility, a promise, and a second chance at a dream that once felt out of reach. There was a time when I thought college wasn’t in the cards for me. I dropped out of high school during one of the lowest points in my life, but something inside me refused to settle. I got my GED, enrolled at LaGuardia Community College, and later graduated with honors. Currently, I’m pursuing dual bachelor’s degrees in Communication Sciences and Disorders and Psychology, and minoring in Neuroscience and Philosophy. My long-term goal is to become a Speech-Language Pathologist and eventually earn a Ph.D, but at the heart of it all is a mission to give back. Being first-generation has influenced my career goals in a powerful way. I want to use my education to support communities that, like mine, often get overlooked. Growing up, I saw how miscommunication and bias could lead to harmful assumptions. For example, accents, dialects, and multilingualism were sometimes mistaken for speech or language disorders. I believe it’s important to recognize that speaking more than one language does not mean a child is delayed. When a delay is present, whether in a monolingual or multilingual child, I want to be there to help. My goal is to work with children and adults who are misdiagnosed due to cultural or linguistic differences, and also with those who truly need support in developing their communication skills due to speech and language disorders. Additionally, I have a deep interest in neurological speech disorders, which affect language and speech due to brain injury, neurodevelopmental differences, or disease. I want to provide culturally responsive, evidence-based therapy and show every individual that their voice matters, however it sounds, in whatever language they speak. Every step I take is for the people who couldn’t, for my mother who worked herself to the bone, and for every kid who was told they wouldn’t make it. One of my biggest dreams is to retire my mom one day, to give her the peace and rest she’s always given to others. My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s shaped me into someone who leads with empathy, fights for equity, and believes in lifting others as I climb. Being a first-generation college student means I’m starting a legacy, and I plan to make it count.