The day was here. No more countdowns or praying that it was tomorrow. It was today. “Ready?” questioned my mom who held my hand for reassurance. “Ready as I ever will be,” I smiled, accompanied by the sun's warmth. Scared was not the word to describe how I felt about what was to come. I was not scared to fail but fearful that I was not prepared. Worried that I had forgotten something or needed to hold my mom’s hand a little longer. Twelve hours away from home seemed so lonely. Ironically once I stepped foot on campus it felt like I was home. Power and confidence poured into me, and North Carolina Agricultural and Technical University accepted me and welcomed me home. It was time to say goodbye, well ‘see you later.’ Tears slowly filled my parents’ eyes, their baby was stepping out into the real world. “There’s nothing you can’t handle. I know that you’ll make the right decisions and in those few situations that you don’t I am certain you’ll find the right solutions,” my stepfather preached with a heartfelt hug. My parents' confidence in my ability to flourish and be great influenced me to have the same amount in myself. The view of my parent’s car getting farther and farther away sickened and excited me. The sadness that I was so convinced I would feel wasn’t there. There was more joy than anything. Looking around the campus crowded with people embarking on the same journey comforted me. I was not alone at all. Walking along the village quad, I began to meet other students and excitedly introduced myself. It was a fresh new page of my novel, the beginning of my story that I had the power to create. Inspired to make history on such a powerful campus. Being a student at the illustrious North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University the history that this school has helps you understand why “Aggies Do.” The first African American woman to be a millionaire, Madam CJ Walker once said, “Don’t sit and wait for opportunities to come. Get up and make them.” Waiting for something to come to you brings no progress. You have to be uncomfortable to move forward and bring about change. The Greensboro Sit-In testifies to the power that this statement holds. Four young college students attending North Carolina Agricultural and Technical State University refused to get up from a segregated Woolworth’s lunch counter. These Aggies did what needed to be done. Without a moment of doubt, Ezell Blair Jr, David Richmond, Franklin McCain, and Joseph McNeil had the determination to birth meaningful change. The bravery and courage it took to go against the grain knowing how dangerous it was is inspiring. These men opened doors for their community and stimulated others to do the same. Enrolling in the school where history unfolded is moving. I aspire to initiate a similar transformation as these fellow Aggies, crafting my own opportunities along the way. With my experience at NCAT, I will leap at the opportunities and do what Aggies do best.

What’s the worst pain someone can feel? Many would say something physical, like getting into a car accident or breaking a bone. Physical pain is intense and excruciating, but mental pain is much worse. Its lasting pain affects many aspects of life that could be difficult to repair. Walking into a room full of people and still feeling like you're alone is a sick feeling. I felt that for most of my life. When I was younger, I grew up in Chicago, living with my grandmother. My mother was a single mother making ends meet; she worked from sunset to sunrise. At school, I didn't seem to fit in with other students; being extraordinarily smart for my age, I was bullied intensely. I confided in my mother, telling her how much I wished we would relocate or transfer schools. She promised me that I would find my place soon. I promised myself to stay hopeful knowing that I would be blessed soon in perfect timing. In my senior year, it was my time to shine. Undoubtedly, I would be continuing my education at a historically black university. My time had finally arrived. Now at my university, I am pursuing a major in psychology to become a clinical psychologist.  I am committed to assisting women who have experienced sexual assault or abuse. This journey into psychology is driven by a mission to create safe spaces where women can find their voices and reclaim their lives. At North Carolina A&T, I have found an environment that nurtures this mission. The university’s commitment to making a difference resonates deeply with me, and it is here that I have honed my understanding of the profound impact psychological support can have on survivors of trauma. North Carolina A&T is not just an academic institution for me; it is a crucible of change. The university’s history of standing up against injustice and advocating for equality fuels my passion and determination. The support and encouragement from my professors and peers have been instrumental in shaping my academic journey and solidifying my commitment to clinical psychology. However, the path to achieving my goals is fraught with financial challenges. Tuition fees, books, supplies, and living expenses are daunting hurdles that threaten to derail my aspirations. It’s no secret that college is expensive, especially at HBCUs. My mother and I are taking out loan after loan and working hard to be able to cover the cost of school. This scholarship represents more than just a financial reprieve; it is a beacon of hope. It will alleviate the financial burdens that weigh heavily on my shoulders, allowing me to immerse myself fully in my studies and practical training. With this support, I can engage in internships, workshops, and research projects that are vital for my professional development. These experiences will not only enhance my skills but also allow me to build a network of professionals dedicated to supporting survivors of sexual assault and abuse. My vision extends beyond my career. I am determined to use my education to foster change within my community and beyond. I plan to organize support groups, awareness campaigns, and educational workshops to address the issues of sexual assault and abuse. By raising awareness and providing resources, I aim to create a more informed and supportive community that stands in solidarity with survivors and works tirelessly to prevent future incidents. The vision will turn into reality, and I will make sure of it.

The memory of my mother’s laughter, so vibrant and full of life, contrasts sharply with the shadow of bipolar disorder that often darkened our home. As much as I loved her, I feared for myself and her equally. Growing up with a mother who battled this condition was both heart-wrenching and inspiring. Her journey through the highs and lows of mental illness has profoundly shaped my goals, relationships, and understanding of the world. It taught me the true depth of empathy and resilience, driving me to pursue a career in psychology with the hope of helping others navigate their mental health challenges. Through her strength and vulnerability, I found my calling and a deeper connection to the complexities of the human mind. From a young age, I was acutely aware of the unpredictable nature of my mother's illness. There were days when she was the vibrant, loving, and energetic woman who would dance around the kitchen with me, filling our home with laughter. But there were also days when the darkness of her disorder would cast a shadow over our lives, and her sadness and withdrawal would leave me feeling helpless and lost. These contrasting experiences deeply impacted my emotional landscape, fostering a profound sense of empathy and a burning desire to understand the intricacies of mental health. There were moments when I often found myself depressed and full of hatred. I never knew which version of my mother I would get that day. My mother was my best friend on most days but the time during her manic episodes I feared leaving my room to avoid any contact with her. During her episodes, she would express deep hatred towards the family and express how much she believed everyone was out to get her. She would leave the house without notifying anyone where she was headed. During her outburst she would send numerous texts to my father’s cell phone with threats of draining the bank accounts and abandoning her children. Nights of trembling with the thoughts of my mother possibly causing self-harm. It was a draining pattern and it made it worse that she refused to take her pills because she believed she was better. When one family member has a mental health condition it can dramatically affect everyone involved. In some cases, it can influence the development of mental health disorders, and that was my reality. Months of the chaos grew and the energy of the household shifted. The vibrant aura that surrounded the home was gone. No one came out of their rooms for family nights or even dinner. My own home felt like a ghost town. I became severely depressed and even tried multiple forms of self-harm. I needed an escape from the hell that I lived in. My mother proposed the idea of family therapy, and individual therapy as well. She pleaded that the dynamic in the household was breaking and she needed the sense of family back. We all complied and were open to the idea. The idea of telling a stranger my deepest darkest secrets and the memories of sexual assault that I suppressed was scary. After the first few sessions, I was more comfortable with my therapist and understood the importance of therapy. In a way, therapy became a crutch that I didn’t know I needed. Furthermore, the family therapy was progressive and my mother was making so much progress. It felt great. The energy in the household was back. A year passed, and I woke up to some heart-wrenching news. My uncle had hung himself in the basement of his house. Everyone was in shock. He was so full of life and brought laughter to every room he walked into. Yet, no one knew the mental battles he was dealing with. Grieving my uncle, I began to become upset with the stigma surrounding mental health. As a black man, he didn’t receive the help he needed because he was unaware of the resources and their benefits. My family is a living testimony that if you do the work, you can overcome any mental obstacle. It sickens me that he didn’t have that same opportunity, which resulted in him leaving two young, beautiful black daughters in a cruel world without a father. This event dramatically impacted me, pushing me toward my calling of destigmatizing mental health in the black community From that moment on, I resolved to make a difference. I immersed myself in learning about mental health, particularly its impact on the black community, and the barriers that prevent people from seeking help. I began volunteering at local organizations, participating in awareness campaigns, and even pursuing a degree in psychology to equip myself with the knowledge and skills necessary to support others. My uncle’s tragic death became the catalyst for my mission to ensure that no one else has to suffer in silence and that mental health resources are accessible, understood, and utilized. Through advocacy, education, and empathy, I am dedicated to breaking the chains of stigma and creating a future where mental health is prioritized and openly discussed, enabling individuals to seek the help they need without fear or shame. My experiences with my mother have also shaped my relationships. Living with her uncontrollable mood swings taught me the importance of patience, understanding, and unconditional love. I learned to listen without judgment and to offer support even when it was difficult. These qualities have strengthened my relationships with friends, family, and peers, allowing me to build deep, meaningful connections based on trust and empathy. Through my journey, I hope to honor my mother's strength and to make a positive impact on the lives of those affected by mental illness.