Hello, I am Nevaeh Chacon and I am going to be a college sophomore at The University of Texas at Arlington this upcoming Fall. I am going to achieve my Master's in Architecture after I graduate in 2027. I am pursuing Architecture to create a better life for the homeless in Texas, specifically in the DFW (Dallas Forth Worth) area. Ever since I was in elementary, I noticed how many homeless people I would see on every street, around every corner store, and other small stores. The homeless would always ask for primarily money and food, but they were grateful for whatever was given to them. Driving in the backseat and passenger seat of my mom's car became something that would overwhelm me with awkwardness and empathy for the people I desperately wanted to help but couldn't because I was only a child and I was receiving the food, shelter, and love they didn't have. When I attended my first high school in Downtown Dallas, I noticed how high the homelessness rate was because we had many homeless people staying across from my school. I realized how dangerous it was to have homeless people around public areas such as schools because that would potentially create problems. Creating more shelters in popular cities such as Dallas can help reduce those kinds of problems from occurring and can also protect both the homeless and students. I left my mom in 2021 during my sophomore year of high school because I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD) and she wanted nothing to do with me after, threatening to sign papers that would relinquish her parental rights to me. Since then, I have been living with my dad and was able to experience happiness and learn lessons that I should have already known. My dad would tell me stories of his life and later on told me about his homelessness. I was surprised to find out that he had to pay $200 a month to stay in a homeless shelter, and that most shelters for women were free but weren't for men. It made me furious how shelters were supposed to be a support system for the people who already had nothing, but instead, it's a way to take even more from them even though they had nothing to begin with. I thought to myself THIS was the reason why there were so many homeless people on the streets, because they never had a support system to begin with. I believe climbing myself up to a position where I can create shelters that don't require so much can help so many, specifically BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) communities because of their already low-income sheltering and the gentrification that follows with it. The homelessness rate can decrease drastically if we allow free shelters and shelters that don't take such important things the homeless need such as money so they can be able to afford food and clothes on their own. They just need a support system that can help them get back on their feet. This is what I hope to achieve to make a positive impact on the world with Architecture.

As an African American teenager with depression, I have overcome adversity by getting the help I needed and doing better for myself. Growing up, I dealt with many things that not just young African Americans but younger kids of just about every race have dealt with; growing up too fast. Not only was I the big sister, but I was the mother. I helped my siblings with things I needed help with myself like homework and chores. I sacrificed my free time to help care for my siblings when they weren't cared for. I would have all of the responsibilities of an adult while being a child, which made me not have a childhood. Living in a toxic household did not help much either as the arguments, name-calling, and negative energy all around from my mother made it worse. Another thing that happens with African American children and teens frequently is sexual abuse from family members. I was a victim of sexual abuse by my cousins and never got justice for it. Having so many things happen to you as a child that shouldn't be happening to you disrupts the way you think, the way you speak, and the way you act. As my depression got worse, so did my socializing skills, my ability to be happy, my ability to be me. As the Coronavirus emerged and I was spending more than half of my high school life at home, it had only got worse. Help from therapists and counselors was very limited. There was nowhere to go even though I didn't go anywhere. I was cooped up in the house with my greatest obstacle, my mom. Expressing the need for help was shut down with "You don't need it. You're fine," and "I'm not spending all of that money. Talk to me instead." Drawing and music was my only outlet, but even I only had that for a limited time for I was still taking on the adult responsibilities of taking care of my siblings. The summer before my junior year, it was time for my yearly check-up and the pediatrician. Teens at the pediatrician would get a wellness check paper to help the doctors identify mental health issues. I took that opportunity, to tell the truth and reach out for help however I could. My pediatrician pulled me to the side and expressed his concern that I have depression and if I wanted to inform my mother. At first, I told him no. I didn't want to tell my mother because I knew that I would get in trouble for it. He however insisted because I couldn't get the help I needed if I didn't say anything and I gave in. Because of this, I was yelled at by my mother who claimed that I was "doing it for attention" and that "she was more depressed than me." The nagging went on and on and I ended up at my dad's house, someone I haven't been able to see for years. Since I've been living with my dad, I have been happier and performed better in school. I was able to get into therapy and got help with coping with my depression better. I went from failing all of my classes to graduating top 10% of my class with all A's and one B. I wish to help my community better by being an example for the young kids going through what I went through and showing them that they can WIN! They can DO BETTER. Life will GET BETTER. And not to let anyone steal their shine.

As an African American teenager with depression, I have overcome adversity by getting the help I needed and doing better for myself. Growing up, I dealt with many things that not just young African Americans but younger kids of just about every race have dealt with; growing up too fast. Not only was I the big sister, but I was the mother. I helped my siblings with things I needed help with myself like homework and chores. I sacrificed my free time to help care for my siblings when they weren't cared for. I would have all of the responsibilities of an adult while being a child, which made me not have a childhood. Living in a toxic household did not help much either as the arguments, name-calling, and negative energy all around from my mother made it worse. Another thing that happens with African American children and teens frequently is sexual abuse from family members. I was a victim of sexual abuse by my cousins and never got justice for it. Having so many things happen to you as a child that shouldn't be happening to you disrupts the way you think, the way you speak, and the way you act. As my depression got worse, so did my socializing skills, my ability to be happy, my ability to be me. As the Coronavirus emerged and I was spending more than half of my high school life at home, it had only got worse. Help from therapists and counselors was very limited. There was nowhere to go even though I didn't go anywhere. I was cooped up in the house with my greatest obstacle, my mom. Expressing the need for help was shut down with "You don't need it. You're fine," and "I'm not spending all of that money. Talk to me instead." Drawing and music was my only outlet, but even I only had that for a limited time for I was still taking on the adult responsibilities of taking care of my siblings. The summer before my junior year, it was time for my yearly check-up and the pediatrician. Teens at the pediatrician would get a wellness check paper to help the doctors identify mental health issues. I took that opportunity, to tell the truth and reach out for help however I could. My pediatrician pulled me to the side and expressed his concern that I have depression and if I wanted to inform my mother. At first, I told him no. I didn't want to tell my mother because I knew that I would get in trouble for it. He however insisted because I couldn't get the help I needed if I didn't say anything and I gave in. Because of this, I was yelled at by my mother who claimed that I was "doing it for attention" and that "she was more depressed than me." The nagging went on and on and I ended up at my dad's house, someone I haven't been able to see for years. Since I've been living with my dad, I have been happier and performed better in school. I was able to get into therapy and got help with coping with my depression better. I went from failing all of my classes to graduating top 10% of my class with all A's and one B. I wish to help my community better by being an example for the young kids going through what I went through and showing them that they can WIN! They can DO BETTER. Life will GET BETTER. And not to let anyone steal their shine.

After achieving my Master's in Architecture, my main goal is to reduce the number of homeless people on the streets by building higher quality shelters that the homeless does not have to pay for. I plan on achieving these goals by first studying what I learn in my future architecture classes, read architectural books and study buildings to expand my knowledge, and learn about cities to understand the environment more. I believe by doing all of these tasks, I can confidently make the world a better place for those whose worlds are already torn apart with no roof over their head. Growing up, I would always see homeless people on the streets, sidewalk, and even near stores and restaurants asking around for money or food and needing shelter. Being someone young with no job or money but a oof over my head, I felt bad that I couldn't give anything or do anything to help. When I started high school in Downtown Dallas, I realized it was very dangerous to have homeless people across from a school with young people and it could potentially cause serious problems. Creating more shelters in popular cities such as Dallas with a high homelessness rate not only protects the homeless but protects the young students as well. When I started to live with my dad, he told me stories of how it was like being homeless before and after he went to prison. He explained how most women shelters were free while most men shelters were not, and how he had to pay $200 a month for the shelter he did stay in. As someone with no experience in homelessness or being in a shelter, it made me furious how morally wrong it was in my eyes to take away something from people who already had nothing to begin with. I thought to myself, THIS is why there are so many homeless people on the streets. THIS is why there are so many tents and blankets outside, because the shelters require so much from the homeless. I believe that climbing my way up into a position to where I can make these kinds of changes would help not only the people, but their environments significantly, especially BIPOC communities because of their low-income sheltering and gentrification. I believe the homelessness rate could drastically decrease if we allow free sheltering and not take important things from the homeless such as money so they can have a stable and affordable support system to help them get their lives back on track.

The Black leader who has inspired me is my dad. Me and my dad have not been in each other's lives because of my mom. Teens at the pediatrician would normally get a wellness check paper to help the doctors identify mental health issues. I took that opportunity, to tell the truth and reach out for help however I could because I was severely depressed and my mom ignored my feelings. My pediatrician pulled me to the side after I filled out the wellness check and expressed his concern that I have depression and I needed to inform my mother. At first, I told him no. I didn't want to tell my mother because I knew I would get in trouble. However, he insisted because I couldn't get the help I needed if I didn't say anything, and I agreed. Because of this, I was yelled at by my mother who claimed that I was "doing it for attention" and that "she was more depressed than me." The nagging went on and I ended up at my dad's house, someone I hadn't been able to see for years because of her. Since living with my dad, there has been a complete 360 change in my behavior, mood, and way of thinking. My dad has helped me overcome the fear of my mom and letting her walk over me. He taught me to have a voice and not let anyone talk to me in any way. He was the person whose shoulder I would cry on in the middle of the night because of my depression or something I remembered in my past life before living with him. He was there to help me in my mind, body, and spirit and was the parent I wished for each day. He showed me that I am capable of being loved and I was not an adult, I was still a child. I have done things with my dad I never did with my mom such as talk about what happens at school or between friends. He was always there to listen and joke around. He was the first person to defend me in any situation if that person was wrong. I have overall become a better person, a better student, a better daughter, and a better older sibling because of my dad. I went from failing all of my classes in my sophomore year of high school to graduating in the top 5 percent and having the most cords in my class. My dad has taught me so many things since I lived with him in 2021, and he continues to teach me to this day. He has changed me and saved me from being a victim of suicide.

As an African American teenager with depression, I have overcome adversity by getting the help I needed and doing better for myself. Growing up, I dealt with many things that not just young African Americans but younger kids of just about every race have dealt with; growing up too fast. Not only was I the big sister, but I was the mother. I helped my siblings with things I needed help with myself like homework and chores. I sacrificed my free time to help care for my siblings when they weren't cared for. I would have all of the responsibilities of an adult before being a child, which made me not have a childhood. Living in a toxic household did not help much either as the arguments, name-calling, and negative energy all around from my mother made it worse. Another thing that happens with African American children and teens frequently is sexual abuse from family members. I was a victim of sexual abuse by my cousins and never got justice for it. Having so many things happen to you as a child that shouldn't be happening to you disrupts the way you think, the way you speak, and the way you act. As my depression got worse, so did my socializing skills, my ability to be happy, my ability to be me. When the Coronavirus emerged and I spent more than half of my high school life at home, my depression got worse. Help from therapists and counselors was highly limited. There was nowhere to go even though I didn't go anywhere. I was cooped up in the house with my greatest obstacle, my mom. The help I asked for was shut down with "You don't need it. You're fine," and "I'm not spending all of that money. Talk to me instead." Drawing and music were my only outlets, but I only had them for a limited time because I was still taking on the adult responsibilities of caring for my siblings. The summer before my junior year, it was time for my yearly check-up and the pediatrician. Teens at the pediatrician would get a wellness check paper to help the doctors identify mental health issues. I took that opportunity, to tell the truth and reach out for help however I could. My pediatrician pulled me to the side and expressed his concern that I have depression and I needed to inform my mother. At first, I told him no. I didn't want to tell my mother because I knew I would get in trouble. However, he insisted because I couldn't get the help I needed if I didn't say anything, and I agreed. Because of this, I was yelled at by my mother who claimed that I was "doing it for attention" and that "she was more depressed than me." The nagging went on and I ended up at my dad's house, someone I hadn't been able to see for years because of her. Since living with my dad, I have been happier and performed better in school. I was able to get into therapy and got help with coping with my depression better. I went from failing all of my classes to graduating in the top 10% of my class with all A's and one B. I wish to help my community better by being an example for the young kids going through what I went through and showing them that they can WIN! They can DO BETTER. Life will GET BETTER. And not to let anyone steal their shine.

When I got diagnosed in 2021 during the end of my sophomore year of high school, my mother disowned me and left me to live with my father, whom she hasn't let me see in years no matter how many times I've asked her. She yelled at me claiming I did not have depression, she was more depressed than me, and I was doing it for attention because I hadn't seen my dad. COVID-19 at this time became a serious global matter, and online school was enforced indefinitely. I had grown up too fast before COVID-19, and I was dealing with my mother and her putting my 2-year-old baby sibling onto me while she worked her life away and paid no mind to us while I still had school and my problems. I was constantly emotionally, mentally, and physically abused, being told by my mother I couldn't go to college with my "lousy" grades despite until that year having A/B Honor Rolls and perfect attendance. When I was dropped off, I still dealt with daily arguments with my mother over text and threats to sign papers saying she wasn't going to be my parent anymore. Despite all of this, my father was the opposite of my mother. He helped me with my depression, let me be a kid for the few years I had left, and I went from failing all of my classes to being in the top 5 percent of my class and the 5th person in my class to walk the stage along with having the most cords and being one of the 12 seniors to represent their high school. My story, the respect for my father, and my younger siblings will forever push me to continue to strive as a first-generation student, a big sister, a daughter, and a survivor as I try to earn a Master's in Architecture.

As an African American teenager with depression, I have overcome adversity by getting the help I needed and doing better for myself. Growing up, I dealt with many things that not just young African Americans but younger kids of just about every race have dealt with; growing up too fast. Not only was I the big sister, but I was the mother. I helped my siblings with things I needed help with myself like homework and chores. I sacrificed my free time to help care for my siblings when they weren't cared for. I would have all of the responsibilities of an adult while being a child, which made me not have a childhood. Living in a toxic household did not help much either as the arguments, name-calling, and negative energy all around from my mother made it worse. Another thing that happens with African American children and teens frequently is sexual abuse from family members. I was a victim of sexual abuse by my cousins and never got justice for it. Having so many things happen to you as a child that shouldn't be happening to you disrupts the way you think, the way you speak, and the way you act. As my depression got worse, so did my socializing skills, my ability to be happy, my ability to be me. As the Coronavirus emerged and I was spending more than half of my high school life at home, it had only got worse. Help from therapists and counselors was very limited. There was nowhere to go even though I didn't go anywhere. I was cooped up in the house with my greatest obstacle, my mom. Expressing the need for help was shut down with "You don't need it. You're fine," and "I'm not spending all of that money. Talk to me instead." Drawing and music was my only outlet, but even I only had that for a limited time for I was still taking on the adult responsibilities of taking care of my siblings. The summer before my junior year, it was time for my yearly check-up and the pediatrician. Teens at the pediatrician would get a wellness check paper to help the doctors identify mental health issues. I took that opportunity, to tell the truth and reach out for help however I could. My pediatrician pulled me to the side and expressed his concern that I have depression and if I wanted to inform my mother. At first, I told him no. I didn't want to tell my mother because I knew that I would get in trouble for it. He however insisted because I couldn't get the help I needed if I didn't say anything and I gave in. Because of this, I was yelled at by my mother who claimed that I was "doing it for attention" and that "she was more depressed than me." The nagging went on and on and I ended up at my dad's house, someone I haven't been able to see for years. Since I've been living with my dad, I have been happier and performed better in school. I was able to get into therapy and got help with coping with my depression better. I went from failing all of my classes to graduating top 10% of my class with all A's and one B. I wish to help my community better by being an example for the young kids going through what I went through and showing them that they can WIN! They can DO BETTER. Life will GET BETTER. And not to let anyone steal their shine.