Growing up, I saw firsthand how incarceration creates cycles that are hard to escape. It’s not just about serving time—it’s about the instability, the financial strain, the stigma, and the emotional weight it places on families. It affects education, opportunity, and mental health. For a long time, I felt like I was carrying the weight of something I couldn’t control, something that had already determined my future before I had a chance to define it for myself. Incarceration doesn’t just affect the person behind bars—it affects entire families, shaping futures in ways that are hard to explain to those who haven’t lived it. My mother was incarcerated when I was younger, and that experience has deeply shaped my educational journey and my desire to give back to my community. At the same time, I struggled with my identity and where I came from. I used to feel ashamed of my Indigeneity. Deeply ingrained into our culture, there is the notion that black and brown children will amount to nothing. So much so that I began to believe what I saw and heard about. But as I grew older and reconnected with my culture, especially through powwows, I began to unlearn this trauma. They became a place where I felt grounded—where I could see the strength of my people, hear the songs that have survived generations, and understand that resilience is part of who we are. I used to be ashamed of where I came from, but now I carry it with pride. Contrary to what I was taught to believe in my educational journey, being Afro-Indigenous and living in a single parent household did not make me predestined to fail. I began to see my education not just as a way out, but as a way forward—not just for myself, but for my community. I don’t want to just escape the struggles that come with poverty, incarceration, and generational trauma—I want to break those cycles. Public schooling and educational systems particularly in the midwest are not always environments conducive towards the success of people of color. I want to be part of the change that ensures future generations have opportunities that weren’t always available to those before them. Now, when I think about my mother’s experience, I don’t just think about the pain of it—I think about the responsibility it has given me. It has made me determined to uplift others, to work toward a future where incarceration isn’t the story that defines so many Indigenous and Black families. It has taught me that giving back isn’t just about helping others—it’s about healing, about making sure the struggles of the past don’t dictate the future.