I am Noah Browning, a motivated, socially conscious student pursuing an accounting degree. My family has always stressed hard work, education, and giving back to society. Growing up, I watched my parents struggle day in and day out to help feed us, and their efforts have given me a need to succeed—not only for myself, but also to give back to those who have helped me along the way. What sets me apart is the synthesis of my intellectual dedication, hands-on experience, and strong commitment to helping others. I have consistently strived in school, receiving excellent grades while balancing part-time employment and volunteer work. My educational journey has not been a smooth one, but with each obstacle that I have overcome, my determination has only grown stronger. I do not perceive education as purely an individualistic accomplishment but as a tool that can elevate communities. I am applying for this scholarship because I believe that it will allow me to pursue my education without further encumbering my family financially. More importantly, it will allow me to study and serve my community even more intensely. I'm not seeking help—I'm seeking an opportunity to grow, to give back, and to make a difference. My long-term vision is to become a Certified Public Accountant (CPA) and work in government or nonprofit accounting. I wish to work for organizations that promote the public good, particularly those focused on education, youth services, or economic development. I have long been drawn to the idea of using my gift to do good for others, and accounting provides me with an opportunity to do this—by efficiently managing resources in an open, honest way. Outside of work, I am extremely interested in community service. Throughout high school and college, I have hosted dry-spotted food drives, volunteered for community cleanups, and helped organize school supply giveaways. I recently volunteered to teach financial literacy classes, teaching students and adults a better sense of budgeting, credit, and saving. These experiences have taught me the ways in which education and access to resources can change lives. In the future, I plan to expand on this initiative by opening community-based programs that provide free financial education and tax preparation services to low-income families. My experience is that financial empowerment is a key component to ending the cycle of poverty, and I want to share what I've learned so that others may overcome barriers and build stronger foundations for themselves and their families. If I am given this scholarship, I will not only use the aid to further my education—I will use it also as inspiration to continue serving others. I understand that scholarships are a bet on a person's potential, and I am committed to demonstrating that the investment in me will yield real, long-term dividends—not only for my own success, but for the lives that I aim to impact. Thank you for considering my application. I look forward to what is ahead and appreciate the opportunity to learn, serve, and be of positive influence.

I chose accounting as a career because it was the only job that brings together two things that I hold dearly: structure and service. Growing up, I was attracted to numbers and puzzle-solving. While in school, I liked mathematics, but not until I used my volunteer hours to assist a local charity to track finances on a charity event did I learn the practical value of those pursuits. It taught me the basics of budgeting, expense reporting, and recordkeeping, and that accounting isn't just about numbers—it's a way to enable organizations to make more informed decisions, optimize scarce resources, and build trust by being transparent. My favorite part about accounting is how it is the backbone for almost every organization. Regardless of the size or mission of a business or nonprofit, good financial practices are key to success. Accountants assist in making sure things are operating fairly, ethically, and efficiently, and they offer the insight necessary to plan for the future. I enjoy the responsibility and attention to detail the work demands, and I consider it a calling in which I can grow and get some good done at the same time. My long-term professional goal is to become a Certified Public Accountant (CPA) with a specialty in nonprofit or government accounting. I want to work with organizations working in the public good—by means of education, social services, or environmentalism. I believe that my skills are best applied to places where every dollar matters and where accurate, truthful accounting can benefit communities and causes directly. One day, I hope to be in a leadership position where I can help guide financial direction, promote responsibility, and help new professionals join the field. Aside from career goals, community service remains at the core of who I am and what I want to do. I've always believed that volunteering isn't something it's a good thing to do — it's something it needs to be done. I volunteered at food drives, neighborhood cleanups, and school supply giveaways in high school consistently. More recently, I've started volunteering for financial literacy classes at the local library, educating adults and teenagers about budgeting, saving, and managing credit. These experiences have also shown me the impact that even the smallest gestures can have, and how much need there remains for low-cost financial education in most communities. As I become more established in my career, I would like to continue assisting such efforts and even expand them. One of my goals is to work with local schools and community centers to offer free tax preparation assistance and financial literacy instruction. I believe that financial knowledge is a form of empowerment, and as an accountant, I’ll be in a position to share tools and insights that help people feel more in control of their lives. Lastly, I chose accounting because it's a field where I can combine technical skill with a sense of purpose. It allows me to help people and organizations make informed decisions, maintain stability, and plan for the future. More importantly, however, it allows me to serve—not only at work, but also in society as a whole.

One of the most meaningful events I’ve participated in is our town’s annual Neighborhood Cleanup Day. Each spring, volunteers from all parts of the community gather to clean up parks, sidewalks, and public spaces. While the goal is to make the town look better, what really happens during this event goes far beyond picking up trash—it strengthens community ties, builds a sense of pride, and reminds us that small actions can lead to big change. I first signed up for Cleanup Day a few years ago when I noticed a post flyer in the public library. I showed up not knowing anyone and expecting a subdued, task-oriented day. Instead, I was met by a varied group of people from all aspects of life: families with toddlers, high school students working towards service credit, retirees, and business owners. We broke up into teams and went out to the different parts of the neighborhood with trash bags, gloves, brooms, and even paintbrushes. I spent my Saturday morning tidying up an abandoned park. We pulled up weeds, planted flowers, repainted a rusted bench, and filled nearly a dozen trash bags. Along the way, I chatted with individuals that I might never have otherwise gotten to know—individuals who lived just a few blocks from me. There was a shared sense of mission and pride as we worked together, transforming a once-neglected space into something beautiful and inviting. What made it unique was not just the physical transformation of the space, but the feeling of unity and connection that it brought. Neighborhood Cleanup Day was the day I learned that neighborhood isn't a place you live—it's something you create. It was the day I learned that anyone, regardless of how old or where they're from, can contribute to making a difference. I've volunteered every year since, and I've even helped organize smaller cleanups during the off-seasons. In the future, I hope this event keeps building a participatory culture in our town. I hope more young people take on leadership roles, perhaps by forming youth-led service clubs or neighborhood organizations. I hope the town also expands opportunities for civic engagement—such as hosting environmental workshops, installing community gardens, or holding mural-painting days that reflect the voices and cultures of the residents. Neighborhood Cleanup Day may seem like an annual tradition, but its effects can be felt throughout the year. It's a reminder that things can change with people who care enough to show up—and that together, we can create a community we're all proud to call home.

My goal through an education career is to be a positive, constant force in young people's lives—especially those who feel forgotten or undervalued. I believe education is one of the most powerful tools we have to create lasting change in the world. It doesn't just alter what students know, but also how they perceive themselves and what they believe they can do. I want to create a learning culture where students feel safe to show who they are, where the unique voices that they bring count, and where they learn, think for themselves, act with sensitivity, and emerge with confidence. My passion for teaching grew out of my existence as a learner. Like many adolescents, there were moments when I doubted myself as well as emotionally trying times. It was the teachers who truly saw me—who took the time to see past my grades, to learn my potential. That one-on-one relationship defined who I am today. I want to be that kind of teacher for other individuals: one who leads with empathy, one who listens profoundly, and who assists students to believe they can make a difference. Outside of the classroom, I have also volunteered with children through non-profit organizations, where I've seen firsthand how care and guidance can transform lives. One of the most meaningful experiences I've had was volunteering at \\\\[insert program name or type, e.g., "a local youth literacy program" or "a community after-school center"]. I worked with children in reading, creative writing, and homework help, but most astounding was how emotionally needy they were—and how responsive they became when they received attention. Some of these students came from difficult home situations or lacked confidence in the classroom, but with encouragement and structure, they began to loosen up, develop pride in their work, and communicate more freely. It reminded me of what I think about teaching: it's not about conveying facts, it's about building trust and creating space for students to grow more emotionally, socially, and academically. Education must address students where they are, and for many, that involves affirming the struggles that they're facing in life outside the classroom. I want to be a part of an education revolution where mental health, diversity, and social justice are as important as academic achievement. In the years to come, I envision teaching in schools that serve under-resourced, diverse communities. I dream of advocating for equal access to quality education, bringing creativity into the classroom, and making sure that no child ever feels invisible. I also hope to continue working with non-profits and community organizations, as change only comes when schools and communities work together. Ultimately, I think education is a lifelong act of service. Regardless of whether I'm in a classroom, supporting a student, or supporting families, my goal is to lift others up and teach them what is possible for their own lives. Even if I can only affect one student at a time, I believe that helping one person has a ripple effect. That's how I plan to make a difference in the world—positive changes—by empowering youth to believe in their worth, own their voices, and build futures that they can proudly call their own.

Whiplash the movie made an impression on me that will never be erased, making me reflect intensely on ambition, discipline, and greatness' cost. Andrew Neiman's incessant struggle to become a superb jazz drummer at the ruthless tutelage of Fletcher forced me to seriously face unpleasant questions about excellence' price. Watching Andrew’s journey unfold made me reconsider my own ambitions, especially when it comes to how much I’m willing to sacrifice in the pursuit of my dreams. The film made me more aware of the balance between pushing myself to achieve greatness and taking care of my mental and emotional well-being. Andrew’s experience shows how intense dedication can lead to isolation, exhaustion, and self-doubt. As I watched him endure the emotional toll of Fletcher's manipulation, I witnessed the fine line between motivation and destruction. It made me reflect on my own dreams—what am I willing to sacrifice for success? Is the price of ambition worth paying if it means sacrificing my well-being or relationships? Whiplash also led me to consider what success actually is. Fletcher's maxim that "there are no two words in the English language more harmful than 'good job'" ran counter to my previous presumptions of success, which I had been inclined to link with outside approval or praise. Instead, it suggested that greatness is the result of endless self-restraint and inner drive. This was a message that compelled me to rethink my motivations. Am I laboring to impress others, or am I acting on my goals because I believe in my own potential? The film caused me to think more clearly about what is driving my actions and desires. The way the film touches on mentorship and leadership was also encouraging to me. Fletcher's manipulatively abusive style of teaching shows the negative aspect of pushing an individual to an extreme. While Andrew’s journey to mastery is intense, it comes at the expense of his emotional and physical health. It made me reflect on how mentors and leaders influence my life. Whether I’ve had supportive mentors or toxic ones, Whiplash pushed me to think critically about how leadership affects those being led. It’s a reminder that encouragement and positive reinforcement can be just as important as pushing for excellence. Additionally, the film’s portrayal of relentless practice and discipline sparked a greater appreciation for dedication in my own pursuits. Andrew’s obsession with becoming the best drummer, no matter the cost, made me think about my own work ethic and the level of commitment I’m willing to put into my craft. Whether it’s school, work, or a personal passion, Whiplash made me reflect on my limits and how far I’m willing to go to improve. Ultimately, Whiplash led me to question the cost of success and whether greatness is possible at the expense of emotional and physical devastation. It was a turning point in the way I perceive ambition, the value of mentorship, and the true nature of success. The film changed the way I go about my goals and relationships in the future, and it made me question how to balance between aiming for perfection and taking care of myself.

My music teacher, Mr. Martin, was an immense influence in my life, impacting not just my musical abilities but also my growth as an individual. He was not just a music teacher; he was a mentor who pushed me to find out things I didn't even know I was capable of. Perhaps the most impactful manner in which Mr. Martin altered my life was by encouraging me to become confident, particularly through challenging myself to sing in front of other people. Singing in a chorus, much less singing solo, takes a form of vulnerability that many fear, but Mr. Martin provided a secure environment for me to form that confidence. Believing in me—whether it was encouraging me to sing a solo or challenging me with tough music—helped me realize that I was capable of more than I ever thought possible. The confidence that I gained in his class carried over into other areas of my life beyond music and taught me how to be confident in whatever I did, whether it was speaking in public or persevering through hardship. Mr. Martin also taught me the importance of perseverance. Choir rehearsal is not always glamorous. It involves repetition, patience, and dedication to perfect a song. There were moments I was frustrated, had no concept of my progress, or wished to quit. But through his guidance, I realized that development does not occur overnight—it occurs through consistent effort. The idea of weathering hard times for something to benefit is an idea I carry to this day. Outside of self-improvement, Mr. Martin instructed me in the value of being part of a team. A choir depends on every individual performing his part in being successful as a whole. He instructed me that each voice, no matter how small, contributed to the harmony of the ensemble. I learned that things done together, as a team, are made beautiful, they are more than the whole by the sum. This learning experience on collaboration has stuck with me and it is a maxim that I now use in every team environment in my work and life. His passion for music and teaching sparked a deeper passion for the arts within me. Mr. Martin taught me not just how to sing, but he made the music come alive so that I could feel the emotion behind each note and understand the power of music to bring people together. Whether we were singing a classic or a more modern piece, I witnessed firsthand the power of music and its ability to stir emotions and bring people together. Aside from the music technical skills, Mr. Martin was always ready to encourage and motivate me, especially when I doubted myself. His encouragement along with what he taught me on discipline, perseverance, and passion gave me direction and the idea that success comes as a product of effort and perseverance. In the end, Mr. Martin did not just shape my voice—he shaped my mind. He taught me that I could do it, that I could accomplish my dreams if I fought for them, and that the power of community and collaboration was a fundamental to success. What I learned from him has remained with me, and the impact of his instruction extends far beyond the classroom and dictates how I approach challenges and opportunities in every area of my life.

I come from a stout Native American heritage of hard work, where strength is typically shown in quiet ways. My ancestry goes deep, and so does the pride that I have for where I am from — but so do the difficulties. My family never had much money, but what we lacked in worldly possessions, we made up for in love, culture, and will power. As a first-generation college student, I’m walking a path that hasn’t been walked before in my family. My parents and grandparents didn’t have the chance to pursue higher education. They spent their lives working long hours just to get by, always putting others before themselves. Their sacrifices are a big part of what motivates me today. I've heard about the work they've done just so I can have a better chance than they did. I would like to honor that by doing even more — not just for me, but for them, and for my community at large. Learning, to me, is not just a personal goal — it's a way of creating change. I’ve seen the gaps in access to healthcare, education, and mental health support in Native communities. I’ve seen how generational trauma and systemic barriers keep people from reaching their full potential. That’s why I’m not just pursuing a degree to better my own life — I’m pursuing it to help break those cycles and give back to the people and places that raised me. I've never believed that knowledge is control, but freedom. Education gives us the power to speak for ourselves, to speak up for what's right, and to create better futures. My hope is to study Accounting and music so that I can stand to help others, especially Native youth, find their voices and their strength.

My name is Noah Browning, and I'm a first-generation college student and Native American. Success where I'm from isn't defined by title or money — it's defined by how you serve your community and stay loyal to where you're from. My journey hasn't always been linear, but each obstacle along the way has helped to determine my purpose: leveraging my education to give back and to be a voice for those who feel invisible or voiceless. I observed resilience from a young age growing up. My household has had to get through some things — financial, emotional, and cultural — but we always found resilience in one another and in our cultural heritage. We were instilled with a strong sense of community, and that is something I carry over into everything that I do. I've seen how systems let down disadvantaged groups, specifically Indigenous groups, and how limited access to resources can keep people in a cycle of poverty. That's the truth that has compelled me to make a difference — not just for myself, but for the people I love and care about and for those still fighting to be heard. I plan to study Accounting and Music, with the goal of creating positive change where it’s needed most. I’m especially passionate about supporting Native youth and addressing the gaps in education, mental health services, and cultural representation that continue to affect our communities. Whether through public policy, social work, education, or otherwise, I hope that my future career is one committed to rebuilding trust and restoring opportunities for Indigenous individuals — starting with listening to their stories and lending my voice to give voice to theirs. One thing that I've come to understand along the way is that impact isn't necessarily the person who speaks the loudest in the room — it's individuals who are willing to show up, be reliable, and lead from the heart. I want to be that person. I want to lead from the heart, applying the values that I was taught as a child: respect, responsibility, and that community welfare matters more than individual achievement. As I plan for college, I'm not only considering classes or grades. I'm considering how I can take all of the knowledge I gain and bring it home. I want to leverage my education to implement programs, shape policy, or develop culturally responsive materials that make an enduring impact. I hope to be an individual that younger Native students can look up to — not because I always knew everything, but because I persevered and stayed grounded in who I am. In short, I plan to keep making a difference by staying rooted in my purpose: serving others, empowering my community, and being part of building a more just and inclusive tomorrow. My education is the next step down that path, and I'm ready to take it — not just for myself, but for all those who helped me along the way and all those still waiting for a brighter tomorrow.

To me, justice is more than equality before the law — it's creating a world in which every individual can live with dignity, safety, and respect. Justice is not just about punishing what is wrong; it is about creating what is right. It is about looking at the systems that have failed individuals — especially those in marginalized communities — and working to change them so that future generations do not have to carry the same burdens. As a Native American, I’ve seen how injustice can pass from generation to generation. I’ve witnessed how historical trauma, systemic racism, and broken promises continue to affect Native communities today — through poverty, lack of healthcare, inadequate education, and erasure of our culture. These aren’t just distant problems from the past. They’re real, daily struggles that many of us live with. That is why justice, to me, must include truth, accountability, and the kind of change that surpasses mere reform. Justice is making space for voices that have been silenced. It is lifting up people who have been oppressed — not in pity, but because they deserve to be heard, seen, and respected. It is addressing disparity not with words or gestures, but with tangible action: policy change, access to resources, representation, and support that reaches people where they actually are. I see myself contributing to a more just society by using my voice and my life experiences to be a voice for others. I know what it is like to grow up in a place where opportunities do not exist, where your culture is not accepted, and where it sometimes feels like no one is listening. I wish to be someone who listens — who helps create bridges among communities, who challenges stereotypes, and who works to make sure that justice is for *everyone*, not just the already privileged. My goal is to work in fields in which I can help bring equity and healing to underserved communities — especially Native youth. Whether through education, outreach, mental health, or policy, I want to use my future career to propel the kind of change that makes a difference. I want to help build programs that are not only inclusive but designed *with* the people they serve, rather than simply *for* them. I also believe that striving to be just starts in how we are present with each other every day. It's being present with empathy, calling out prejudice when we see it, and owning our prejudices. It's learning and unlearning, and being humble enough to transform. Justice is not just a system — it's an attitude, a commitment, and a duty that we all have a responsibility to. I do not anticipate that creating a just world will be easy or rapid. Real justice takes time, effort, and people who will keep doing the work even when it gets uncomfortable. But I believe in that work. I believe in the power of community, culture, and connection. And I believe that by asserting my heritage and speaking up, I can do my part to push the world a little closer to the justice so many of us are still fighting for.

As a first-generation college student, choosing to pursue education is not just earning a degree — it's disrupting cycles, creating opportunities, and showing respect for my family's sacrifices. I come from a place where opportunity is limited and where higher education is not necessarily seen as something within reach. But I've chosen otherwise because I desire more — not just for myself but for those that follow me. Growing up with a family of Native Americans, I saw each day strength, resilience, and love. Yet I also observed struggle — economic struggle, few resources available, and the weight of intergenerational challenge. Education was something that I saw as a means out, but also as a means through. I learned that knowledge could be a force for change, for me, and my people. I chose college because I want to build a future where I can come back. I would like to help others who feel the same limitations and pressures that I felt, and I know that college is the first step towards building the skills, knowledge, and confidence I need to do that. It's not about having a better job — it's about having the opportunity to help uplift others, particularly Native youth who are easily overlooked or forgotten. It has not been easy becoming college-ready as a first-generation student. There is no guide in my family on how to navigate through the application process, financial aid, or even what to expect once I am there. I've had to learn a lot of it the hard way — checking it out online, getting in touch with counselors, asking questions even though I felt embarrassed. But every time I've encountered an obstacle, I've reminded myself that I'm not doing it for me. I'm doing it to create a trail where there was none. I've taken my coursework seriously, pushing myself to remain on track even when it wasn't easy. I've sought out mentors, taken college readiness courses, and networked with people who support me. I've learned how to manage time, how to ask for help when I need it, and how to have a commitment to long-term goals even when short-term life gets tough. One of the biggest things I've done to prepare is by centering myself in myself. As a first-gen college student, I'm entering into a world that isn't going to always look like me, isn't always going to sound like me. Instead of thinking of that as a deficit, I've begun to see that it's something to be strengths-based. I carry with me the values my family taught me: perseverance, respect, community. They will guide me as much as any textbook or syllabus. College is a challenge, but it's one that I'm prepared for. I know it won't be easy all the time, but I also know that I've already overcome so much just to reach this point. I've learned how to work hard, how to push through when things seem impossible, and how to trust myself even when I don't feel sure. I’m pursuing college not just to change my life, but to open doors for others — to be proof that it’s possible. And I’m ready to keep building on the foundation I’ve worked so hard to create.

I didn't realize what I was going through for a very long time. Being from a Native American background, strength was many times silence. You didn't talk about things, especially not emotional or mental things. I had been taught to push through sadness and anxiety and not say anything, and that struggling was something you simply did by yourself. I did not realize I was carrying around depression and anxiety — or that I had a right to talk about it. As I got older, the pressure I'd internalized started to leak into everything — my motivation, my relationships, and my self-image. It was hard to ask for help because I felt like if I said that I wasn't okay, it would be a sign of weakness. But it finally got to be too much. I reached a point where I knew I had to say something, no matter how uncomfortable. It was a decision that changed my life. Learning about mental health opened my eyes in so many ways. I began to understand that what I was going through wasn't strange — and more importantly, it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. It changed the way I defined strength. I no longer believed that being strong was about staying silent. Being strong, I learned, is about being honest about what you're going through and getting help when you need it. That change didn't just affect me — it changed the way I connected with other people. As I started to open up to friends and family, I discovered that many of them had been struggling too. We just didn't know how to talk about it. Talking about it openly drew all of us closer together and made me realize how many people suffer alone in silence. I learned how to truly listen, how to hold space for others without trying to fix them, and how much power there is in simply being present for someone. Most of all, my personal experience with mental health shaped my future. I've seen how mental health issues impact Native communities — not just individuals, but entire generations. The weight of historical trauma, loss, poverty, and isolation goes too often untreated. Many lack access to proper care, or they don't feel comfortable seeking it. That's why I want to be part of the solution. I'm motivated to increase access to mental healthcare, especially for Native youth. Through counseling, education, advocacy, or outreach within their communities, I want to make sure people understand they're not alone — and healing is possible. I believe culturally responsive care is essential. People should be able to receive help that acknowledges not only their symptoms but their heritage, traditions, and history. My experience with mental health has not been linear, but it has given me direction. It has made me a more aware, more compassionate, and more motivated individual. I understand the work that I want to do isn't just about helping people to survive — it's about helping people to heal, to connect, and to build better futures for themselves and for their communities. Mental wellness is not just a personal battle — it touches every part of our existence. My personal battles also taught me that healing starts with honesty and continues with connection. And now, I'd like to use what I learned to help others find their strength, their voice, and their path forward — just like I found my own.

Storytelling within my household isn't something of tradition, however — but more a constant reminder of the person we are and where we hail from. My great-grandfather's is one of those stories that's impacted my life and fueled my drive. It isn't necessarily an epic story filled with blockbuster-like moments but does possess one — quiet resilience that lasts a family for years. My great-grandfather was taken to a boarding school when he was still a boy. Like so many Native children, he was forced to cut his hair, stop speaking our language, and abandon the traditions that connected him to our people. Those were difficult times for him, and though he did not speak about them often, when he did, it never failed to impress me. I remember one evening during the summer sitting on the porch with him as he whittled on a stick of wood — something he was apt to do to level his feet out. He looked at me and said, "They tried to take all of it away from us, but they couldn't take what's in here," and he tapped his heart. I didn't understand what he meant at the time, but I never forgot it. As I matured and was taught more about our past at school, as well as through gossip at home, I was capable of understanding just how much strength it had taken to withstand what he had to go through. He resisted not with violent or loud methods, but with resolve. He spoke proudly of his family, instructed us on what traditions he could, and made sure that we knew where we came from. He taught us never to be embarrassed to be Native. That history — and his legacy — taught me something about what kind of person I want to be. It taught me that resilience is not necessarily about winning wars; sometimes it's about remaining when everything else wants to draw you away from yourself. His life called me to speak up for others, to protect our culture, and to help create places where Native people are heard, seen, and valued. My hope is to use my education and voice in an effort to leave a positive impact upon my people — especially to Native youth who still struggle through the conflicts of identity, discrimination, and lack of resources. Whatever path I take into the areas of education, advocacy, or otherwise, I hope that my actions reflect the same resilience and determination that my great-grandfather had. I want to help us close the gap between our traditions and the future, so we don't have to choose between being successful and being ourselves. My great-grandfather's tale isn't just my past — it's my map. It reminds me that even when the world is trying to silence you, your roots can ground you. And just as he gave me that strength, I want to pass it on to others.

Being Native American has been one of the most defining aspects of my life. It's something that's been passed down through my family and community, but it's also something that I've had to navigate in a world that doesn't always understand or value who I am. I was raised with the beauty and richness of my culture around me, yet I was also faced with struggle that would shape me into who I am today. The difficulties of being Native American, personal and community, have etched themselves on me that I did not understand fully at the moment, but in looking back, I am able to understand how they've shaped me into who I am today. From the start, my connection to my Native heritage was something that kept me grounded. My family taught me the importance of our traditions, our language, and our respect for the earth. There was always this pride in belonging to something so old and important. But along with that, I also knew from a young age that being Native American wasn't necessarily perceived in a good way by everyone around me, either. I remember always sensing that I was different from other kids, as if I didn't belong. I couldn't put it into words, but I knew that something was amiss between me and the world. I learned to hide pieces of myself in certain contexts, trying to blend in, specifically at school. Stereotypes at school were loud and obvious. I'd overhear someone mention "Indian reservations" or that Native people were "behind the times." It never really made sense of what I knew, and it left me stumped. On the one side, I was proud of where I came from, but on the other, I was embarrassed by how it singled me out. I couldn't help but wonder if I was enough, if I would ever be able to be understood. I realized that to most, the idea of being Native American was trapped in the past—an outdated, distorted image that fell far short of who we are as a people. And yet, in spite of all this, I found strength in my heritage. The resilience of my ancestors has always been inspiring. They endured unimaginable hardships—colonization, forced assimilation, loss of lands—and yet they survived. This gave me a sense of direction. When there were difficult times, remembering the way they continued to struggle for survival and for their culture filled me with courage to continue striving. It wasn't just an issue of survival; it was an issue of carrying forward the traditions, the language, and the values which had been passed on through generations. I realized these struggles were not specific to me. They were merely a chapter in a larger story—a story of resilience, of resilience, and of perseverance. I started to appreciate that every hurdle I crossed was part of a subtextual history of injustice that my people have endured for centuries. Being Native American has changed my life in so many ways. It's given me a great sense of pride, but it's also opened my eyes to the cruel realities we suffer as a people. Despite the struggles, I’ve learned that our strength lies in our ability to adapt, to fight, and to hold on to what makes us unique. It’s made me stronger, more compassionate, and more determined to ensure that future generations of Native Americans can thrive. The battles might have been tough, but they've made me someone who is proud to be me, proud of where I came from, and proud of what I will become.

Music has affected my life by letting me have a future. A little background information: When I was younger, I used to get into a lot of trouble, and I was starting to scare my mother about where my future was heading and so she took me to church and I heard the beautiful singing of these women that I thought were angels and so I asked my mom to let me join the church choir and she did then after that singing has always been my dream, and it came true when I joined my High school chorus. After the first semester of the class, my teacher saw some potential and talent in me, and he put me in honors immediately. I realized after that year that music has kept me too busy to get into trouble, and I see all these kids around me doing things that has affected them so negatively like drug,s alcohol and smoking and I see then throwing their lives away just for a little hit so I'm grateful for music for changing my life in that aspect and also giving me great experience with it. I even participated in my school musical, Mean Girls, in my sophomore year, and there I saw my future and what I could do with my music to give back to the community the way it gave back to me and I can help these kids that need a little beauty to their lives and we can help them be more happy and healthy through music. In church, I am now studying to be a preacher, and I am singing and preaching sermons. God has blessed me with the gift of singing and being able to share it with people and also have the opportunity to talk to people about the lord and spread his word. I know that music has given me the chance to spread positivity in the world and right now, the world could use a little more positivity because of everything that is happening. I want to be able to spread the joy of music with my nephew so he can enjoy the things that I have been able to enjoy when I was young. Without music in my life, I wouldn’t be the person I am today, and I thank everyone in my life for liking and appreciating what I do with the music that I sing. Life has been a real joy with it, and I can’t even imagine what it would be like without it in my life.