I am a non-traditional student, a first-generation college attendee, and a proud nursing student who took the long road to find her purpose — and I wouldn’t change a single step. My educational journey is not linear, but it is filled with courage, growth, and deep personal conviction. What brought me to nursing was not just a decision — it was a calling that became louder and clearer as I navigated life, overcame personal challenges, and realized that my life’s work is in service to others. Growing up in a low-income immigrant household, education was always emphasized as the pathway to opportunity, but access to that path wasn’t always easy. Life circumstances delayed my start, and for a while, I questioned whether I had missed my chance. I worked jobs that paid the bills but left my heart empty. Still, I always found myself drawn to care-related roles — whether supporting elderly neighbors, helping family members manage chronic illnesses, or comforting friends through mental health crises. I didn’t have the credentials, but I had the heart. The real “aha” moment came when a close family member was hospitalized. Watching the nurses care for her — not just treating symptoms but treating the whole person — lit something in me. Their compassion, strength, and presence made a difference during our darkest hours. In that moment, I realized: this is what I’m meant to do. I want to be that light for others. I want to help patients not only heal, but feel seen, heard, and respected. Now, I’m deep in my nursing education, balancing school with adult responsibilities and financial challenges, but I’m more motivated than ever. I bring lived experience, emotional resilience, and a fire that doesn’t quit. I know what it’s like to restart, to choose growth when it’s hard, and to lead with empathy. Nursing isn’t just a career path for me — it’s a lifelong mission rooted in service, equity, and human dignity. This scholarship would allow me to continue this journey with less financial strain and more focus on what truly matters — becoming a nurse who leads with heart and never forgets where she came from. Like Joseph Joshua Searor, I am committed to rising, learning, and making a lasting impact. And I’ll carry that spirit into every room I walk into, every patient I care for, and every life I touch. Thank you so much for considering my application and for honoring Joseph Joshua Searor’s legacy through this generous opportunity. His dedication to education and nursing continues to inspire, and I would be honored to carry that light forward in my own career.

I am a proud Black woman, a first-generation college student, and a current mentee in the Health Care Careers Pathways Program, pursuing a career in nursing with the goal of becoming a nurse practitioner. My identity, lived experiences, and passion for care are all deeply intertwined. I chose healthcare not just as a profession, but as a purpose — to break generational cycles, elevate my community, and be the presence I once needed in spaces where people who look like me are often underrepresented and underserved. Growing up in a low-income immigrant household in Washington, I’ve witnessed firsthand how systemic disparities in healthcare deeply affect BIPOC communities. I’ve seen loved ones delay care due to lack of insurance, receive inadequate treatment because of implicit bias, and suffer silently because they didn’t feel seen or heard by their providers. These experiences planted a seed in me — not of bitterness, but of bold responsibility. I’m determined to be part of the change, both at the bedside and beyond it. Through the HCCP Mentoring Program, I’ve been empowered to embrace leadership, sharpen my voice, and envision a future where healthcare equity is a reality. This program has provided me with guidance, representation, and a community of like-minded individuals who are equally committed to transforming healthcare. It showed me that my presence in this field is not only needed — it’s powerful and deeply impactful. I hope to one day provide the same mentorship, visibility, and support to students who come after me. My long-term goal is to serve underserved communities in Washington, particularly BIPOC populations who experience health disparities due to systemic and economic injustice. I plan to focus on preventive care, chronic disease management, and patient education rooted in compassion and cultural humility. Beyond the clinical side, I aim to advocate for inclusive policies, help diversify healthcare leadership, and create safe spaces for patients of all backgrounds. I also want to expand my impact by working on community outreach initiatives and collaborating with local organizations to improve health literacy. This scholarship would not only ease my financial burdens but also affirm that my voice, dreams, and mission matter. I am not just pursuing a degree — I am building a legacy of healing, hope, and justice in healthcare. And I am ready to lead with purpose, serve with compassion, and represent those who have too long gone unseen. Thank you, Nuhamin G.

Becoming a mother at seventeen changed my life forever. It was not something I planned, but the moment I held my son for the first time, I knew my purpose had changed. I wasn’t just a teenager navigating high school anymore—I was a mother, responsible for another life. I was someone’s world, and that meant I had to grow up fast, make sacrifices, and find the strength to keep going even when everything felt uncertain. My journey into motherhood was not easy. I was still living with my family when I found out I was pregnant. My parents were disappointed and fearful for my future. Friends distanced themselves, unsure of what to say or how to support me. I felt alone, overwhelmed, and judged—not just by people around me, but by society as a whole. It seemed like everyone had already decided what my future would look like: another teen mom who wouldn’t graduate, who would struggle to make ends meet, who might never go to college. But I refused to let that be my story. Even while pregnant, I stayed in school. I kept my grades up, often completing homework during doctor’s appointments or late at night when I couldn’t sleep. After giving birth, the balance became even more intense. While other students were focused on college tours or prom, I was learning how to swaddle a newborn, manage nighttime feedings, and change diapers—all while preparing for exams. I submitted assignments from my phone in waiting rooms. I typed essays with my baby in one arm and a bottle in the other. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. What kept me going was my dream of becoming a nurse. Long before I became a mother, I admired the strength, compassion, and intelligence of nurses. But after becoming a mom and experiencing the healthcare system firsthand, my desire to pursue nursing took on a deeper, more personal meaning. I remember one nurse in particular during my delivery—she held my hand, told me I was brave, and made me feel safe. She didn’t judge me for my age; she just cared. That moment stayed with me. I want to be that nurse for someone else—especially for young moms who feel scared, unseen, or unsupported. After graduating from high school with a 3.8 GPA, I enrolled at Lake Washington Institute of Technology to pursue my nursing degree. I am now in my undergraduate nursing program, working toward becoming a Registered Nurse with hopes of specializing in pediatric or community health nursing. I want to serve young families, especially teen moms and underserved communities who often face barriers to quality care. My goal is to combine my lived experience with my medical training to become a nurse who sees the full person—not just their symptoms, but their story. The challenges I’ve faced have been many. Financially, I’ve struggled to afford textbooks, transportation, childcare, and tuition all at once. I’ve worked part-time jobs while attending school, often sacrificing sleep and rest to make sure everything gets done. Emotionally, there are days I feel overwhelmed—like I’m failing at everything. But then I remember why I started: my son. He’s the reason I push through every hard moment. I want him to grow up seeing that hard work, determination, and love can build something beautiful, even out of difficult beginnings. Being a young mom has made me more resilient than I ever imagined. I’ve learned how to ask for help when I need it. I’ve learned how to balance priorities, how to advocate for myself, and how to build a support system from scratch. I’ve also learned that being vulnerable isn’t a weakness—it’s a strength. There’s power in saying, “This is hard, but I’m doing it anyway.” Receiving the Moms on the Rise Scholarship would be life-changing. It would relieve some of the financial pressure that constantly weighs on me, allowing me to devote more energy to my studies and my son. It would help me cover the cost of tuition, childcare, school supplies, and transportation—all essential pieces of this journey that I am trying so hard to hold together. But more than that, this scholarship would be a statement. It would say, “You matter. Your dreams are still valid. Your journey is worth investing in.” I want to use this scholarship not just to reach my own goals, but to give back to others. One day, I hope to mentor other young mothers who feel lost or hopeless. I want to speak at schools, start a support group, or partner with community health programs to make sure teen moms know they are not alone. Education didn’t end when I became a mother—it became more meaningful. I want to prove that it’s possible to rise, even after life takes an unexpected turn. My story is not one of failure. It’s one of transformation. I am not a statistic—I am a student, a mother, a future nurse, and a woman determined to make a difference. With the support of the MoThR Scholarship, I will continue rising—for my son, for myself, and for every young mother who needs to see that a bright future is still within reach.

I chose to pursue a career in nursing because healing others is more than what I do—it’s who I am. I am a woman shaped by adversity, resilience, and the deep desire to give comfort where there is pain, guidance where there is fear, and hope where there is uncertainty. Nursing is my calling, born from personal experience and confirmed through every patient I’ve cared for. My inspiration to become a nurse is rooted in two powerful truths: my identity as a second-generation Ethiopian-American, and my survival as a woman who has overcome intimate partner violence. These experiences didn’t break me—they built me. I’ve learned that true healing is holistic. It involves the body, the mind, and the spirit. And nurses are often the only people at the bedside who recognize and respond to all three. I remember the first time I felt truly safe after escaping a violent relationship. It wasn’t in a police station or a shelter—it was in a hospital room, when a nurse gently offered me a warm blanket, sat next to me, and didn’t ask for details. She just looked me in the eye and said, “You’re not alone.” That moment marked the beginning of my healing. And that moment became the reason I said, “This is what I want to do.” Since then, I’ve worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant for over three years in memory care, long-term care, and rehabilitation units. I’ve helped bathe patients who forgot their names, held the hands of the dying, and reassured worried family members. Through every experience, I’ve learned that nursing is not just a science—it’s a sacred trust. As a current nursing student at Lake Washington Institute of Technology, I bring this perspective with me into every classroom and clinical shift. I am committed not only to mastering the knowledge and skills of nursing, but also to becoming a nurse who uplifts her community—especially the underserved and unseen. I plan to specialize in women’s health and pediatric nursing, where I can advocate for trauma-informed care, health equity, and culturally sensitive support for immigrant and minority populations. What sets my journey apart is that I have lived both as the caregiver and the one in need of care. I know what it feels like to be afraid, to be overlooked, and to be searching for a sign that someone cares. That’s why every day I study, every exam I pass, and every patient I comfort, is an act of purpose. I’m not just chasing a degree—I’m building a future where more people, especially women and children, can feel safe, seen, and truly cared for. Receiving the Wieland Nurse Appreciation Scholarship would mean the world to me. Not just financially, but symbolically—it would be a reminder that my journey matters. That my past doesn’t disqualify me—it qualifies me to serve others with deeper compassion and greater strength. It would give me the freedom to focus on my training and clinicals without the constant stress of finances, allowing me to show up more fully for my patients and my purpose. I didn’t just choose nursing—nursing chose me, through every life experience that brought me here. And I will spend the rest of my life giving back what was once given to me: presence, compassion, and healing. I found out about this scholarship through Bold.org.

I am a proud second-generation Ethiopian-American, and everything I do is deeply rooted in my culture’s strength, resilience, and deep respect for education and community. My name is Nuhamin, and I am currently pursuing my nursing degree at Lake Washington Institute of Technology. As a future RN and woman of African descent, I carry not just my dreams, but the dreams of my family and ancestors who sacrificed, prayed, and worked tirelessly so I could be where I am today. In my household, education was never just a goal—it was a responsibility. My parents came to the United States with little more than hope and a vision: that their children would build lives filled with dignity, service, and purpose. Watching them work hard, even in silence, with faith and humility, taught me to never take my opportunities for granted. Every exam I pass, every clinical I complete, and every patient I care for is in honor of them. As an African woman pursuing a STEM career in nursing, my community contribution started long before nursing school. I’ve volunteered extensively in my church and in local community programs, offering care, resources, and companionship to elders and unhoused populations in Lynnwood and Seattle. I’ve helped organize health fairs, serve meals, and educate immigrant families on basic health and wellness, especially those who face language or systemic barriers. In my culture, community is not something you visit—it’s something you are. That’s why I chose nursing. I wanted a profession that allowed me to care deeply, serve practically, and advocate powerfully. As a Certified Nursing Assistant for over three years, I’ve provided hands-on care in memory care, rehab, and long-term care centers. I’ve worked with patients from all walks of life—many of whom didn’t speak English or had no family at their side. I learned that sometimes being present, offering a gentle touch or a kind word in a familiar tone, is the most healing medicine. Being Ethiopian also means understanding the value of perseverance. There were many times I felt like giving up—financial stress, trauma recovery, and balancing school with work. But giving up was never an option. My culture taught me to stand back up, pray harder, study deeper, and lead with grace. I want to take that same energy into pediatric and community nursing, focusing on underserved African and immigrant families who often fall through the cracks of our healthcare system. Receiving the Dr. Soronnadi Nnaji Legacy Scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would be a deep honor. Dr. Nnaji’s legacy as a Nigerian scholar and STEM leader is a shining example of what it means to rise and reach back. This scholarship would lighten the financial burden that currently weighs on me and give me the freedom to fully focus on my nursing training, clinical excellence, and future community initiatives. It would also connect me to a legacy of African excellence, which I am committed to carrying forward in my own career. With this scholarship, I will not only finish my degree—I will use it to build clinics, create health education resources, and serve as a bridge between healthcare and African immigrant communities. I am not just studying to become a nurse. I am preparing to become a leader, a healer, and a proud representation of what it means to turn pain into purpose—and heritage into legacy.

I’m choosing a career in nursing because I believe in healing beyond medicine. I believe in care that uplifts the spirit, restores dignity, and empowers people—especially the smallest and most vulnerable among us: children. Nursing, for me, is not just a job. It’s a calling that came from my own lived experiences and grew deeper through every moment I spent at the bedside. And now, as I pursue my RN degree at Lake Washington Institute of Technology, I know exactly where my heart belongs—pediatric nursing. My journey to this point has not been easy. As a survivor of intimate partner violence and someone who overcame significant adversity, I’ve learned what it means to fight for a better future. That fight gave me purpose. And that purpose led me to nursing. I wanted to take everything I’ve been through and turn it into something good—to be the calm in someone else’s storm, the hand to hold, the advocate who speaks up. I started as a Certified Nursing Assistant and spent over three years working in memory care, rehab, and long-term care. Through that experience, I gained patience, empathy, and the ability to connect with people in their most vulnerable states. But it wasn’t until my pediatric clinicals that I found my true passion. There’s something incredibly sacred about working with children. Their resilience, innocence, and honesty inspire me every day. I had the privilege of caring for a two-month-old with failure to thrive—a fragile baby whose cries were faint, whose energy was low, but whose spirit fought to be seen. I remember holding her during feedings, learning how to pace her intake, and celebrating the tiniest victories—an extra 5 ml, a better latch, a moment of eye contact. Those moments changed me. They taught me that pediatric nursing is about more than just medicine—it’s about trust, patience, and presence. It’s about walking beside families who are scared and offering not just care, but confidence and hope. I plan to specialize in pediatric community health nursing, with a focus on early developmental support and underserved populations. I want to bridge gaps in access and education—especially for families who may not know how to advocate for their child’s health or navigate the healthcare system. Long-term, I dream of creating programs that teach parents about early warning signs in development, provide emotional support for pediatric caregivers, and bring more equity into the care we provide to children of all backgrounds. Deborah Stevens’ legacy as a pediatric nurse is deeply inspiring. Her 25 years of service remind me that this profession is more than a career—it’s a lifelong commitment to nurturing the future. I want to carry that same energy into every room I walk into, every child I care for, and every family I support. Pediatric nurses are not just caregivers—they are protectors, teachers, and healers. And I want to be all of that. This scholarship would ease the financial burden that comes with nursing school, allowing me to focus fully on my education and hands-on training. More importantly, it would be an investment in a future pediatric nurse who is determined to make a difference in every little life she touches. I’m not just becoming a nurse. I’m becoming a source of comfort, a fierce advocate, and a joyful presence in children’s healthcare—and I can’t wait to begin.

Nursing isn’t just a career choice for me—it’s a calling deeply rooted in compassion, purpose, and lived experience. I’ve always believed that healing begins with presence, and nursing is one of the few professions where your presence alone can change someone’s life. That’s what drew me in—and that’s what keeps me going. I am currently a nursing student at Lake Washington Institute of Technology, working toward my RN degree. My desire to become a nurse stems from personal experiences and the desire to create meaningful change in my community. I’m a survivor of intimate partner violence, and it was through the hands of nurses that I first felt safe, seen, and supported during my recovery. Those moments stayed with me. I knew then that I wanted to be that same kind of light for someone else in their darkest hour. One of my proudest accomplishments to date is my three years of work as a Certified Nursing Assistant. I’ve served in memory care, long-term care, and rehab units—helping patients maintain dignity through their most vulnerable days. I’ve developed patience, empathy, and resilience in this role. From managing physical care needs to offering emotional support to families, I’ve had a front-row seat to the heart of nursing. It’s these experiences that have helped me build a strong clinical foundation as I step forward into my RN training. In addition to my CNA work, I’ve also volunteered through my church, offering community support during health fairs, meal drives, and elder outreach events. I’ve helped educate community members on basic wellness practices and have provided companionship to elders without families. These small acts reinforced my belief that healthcare isn’t limited to hospitals—it happens in every corner of our communities. My goal is to specialize in community health and women’s health nursing, with a specific focus on underserved populations. As a Black woman, I’ve seen firsthand how cultural and racial disparities can affect the quality of care. I want to be a part of the solution—to serve with cultural sensitivity, trauma-informed care, and the drive to empower women to take control of their health and futures. Long-term, I hope to launch local health education initiatives and mentoring programs for young nursing assistants, just like Sara Jane did in her incredible 48-year career. Sara Jane’s legacy deeply moves me. Her dedication to her patients, her mentorship of young nurses, and her commitment to lifelong service are everything I aspire to be. Like her, I want to leave a legacy of care—one that speaks not just of clinical skill, but of humanity, heart, and hope. Winning this scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would feel like a torch being passed from one generation of caregivers to the next. I promise to carry it with grace, humility, and the passion to make a difference in every life I touch.

My decision to pursue nursing was not made in a moment—it was born through pain, shaped by experience, and solidified through purpose. I chose nursing because I know what it feels like to be unseen in your suffering. I’ve lived through intimate partner violence, through nights when I questioned my worth, and days where surviving felt like my only goal. But when I finally broke free from that cycle, I didn’t just want to heal—I wanted to help others do the same. Nursing, to me, is not just a profession—it’s my redemption story. As a Black woman and a first-generation college student, the odds haven’t always been in my favor. But I’ve fought for my education and my healing because I believe deeply that my future patients deserve a nurse who gets it. Someone who won’t just check vital signs but will listen for the pain that isn’t being said. Someone who will show up—not just in scrubs, but with compassion, cultural understanding, and unwavering advocacy. What truly confirmed my path in nursing was my work as a Certified Nursing Assistant. For over three years, I’ve provided care in memory care, long-term care, and rehabilitation centers. I’ve changed briefs, held hands during lonely nights, comforted confused patients, and stood beside families facing heartbreak. It’s there I learned that being present is one of the most powerful forms of medicine. Nursing is the perfect blend of science, skill, and soul—and I knew it was my calling. But I don’t just want to care—I want to change. I plan to specialize in women’s health and community health nursing, focusing especially on underserved populations. I want to educate, advocate, and create safe spaces for African American women who often face both systemic healthcare disparities and unspoken trauma. I want to be the nurse who meets someone where they are, with no judgment—only love, knowledge, and the tools to rise. The legacies of Pangeta and Ivory reflect the kind of nurse I aspire to be: deeply respected, deeply caring, and a beacon for others. I carry that same passion in my heart. Nursing is more than what I do—it’s who I am. It’s the way I show up in the world—with empathy, excellence, and the desire to make things better for the next woman coming behind me. In a time when nursing is more challenging than ever, I remain committed—because this world still needs heart. It still needs nurses who advocate fiercely, who listen intently, and who care deeply. I’m becoming that nurse. Receiving this scholarship would help ease the financial weight of school so I can continue focusing on what matters most—serving others with everything I’ve got. It would also be a powerful affirmation that my story, my purpose, and my drive are worthy of investment. I walk this path not just for me, but for every woman who’s ever been silenced, for every patient who needs to be seen, and for every life I hope to impact along the way.

I want to become a nurse because I know what it means to need healing—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. My nursing journey is not just about a career; it’s a mission born out of survival, compassion, and the deep desire to serve my community the way I once needed to be served. As a woman who has experienced intimate partner violence, I understand how trauma can affect a person on every level. I also understand what it means to rise above pain, to rebuild your life, and to choose purpose over bitterness. Nursing has given me direction and clarity. It allows me to transform my lived experiences into a calling—to care, to advocate, and to empower. Currently, I am a nursing student at Lake Washington Institute of Technology. I’ve also worked for over three years as a Certified Nursing Assistant in memory care, rehab, and long-term care. I’ve seen the full spectrum of human vulnerability—patients battling Alzheimer’s, families facing difficult goodbyes, people coping with loneliness or loss of dignity. And what I’ve learned is that true nursing isn’t just about the medical—it’s about presence. It’s about making people feel safe, seen, and respected. My long-term goal is to specialize in community health and women’s health, focusing especially on underserved populations, including Black women and survivors of trauma. Too often, our communities don’t have access to healthcare that is culturally competent, trauma-informed, or compassionate. I want to change that. As a nurse, I hope to serve my community by creating bridges—between patients and providers, between trauma and healing, between survival and empowerment. I want to offer more than care; I want to offer education. I envision hosting community health fairs, free wellness workshops, and support groups for women dealing with abuse, mental health issues, or chronic stress. I want to meet people where they are—whether in clinics, shelters, schools, or churches—and show them that healing is not only possible, it’s accessible. Representation matters, especially in healthcare. When patients see nurses who look like them, understand their struggles, and truly listen—they’re more likely to trust the system and follow through with care. I want to be that nurse. I want to show young girls in my neighborhood that they can rise above their circumstances, that their pain can become power, and that they are worthy of health and wholeness. Pursuing my degree has not been easy. Like many nursing students, I’ve faced academic rigor, clinical stress, and financial strain. But every challenge has only deepened my commitment. I show up, even when it’s hard—because I know my “why.” And I carry that “why” into every exam, every clinical shift, and every patient interaction. Receiving this scholarship would relieve a significant burden, allowing me to focus more on my training and less on the financial weight. But more than that, it would feel like a nod of encouragement—a reminder that the work I’m doing, and the path I’m on, matters. That I’m not just studying to become a nurse—I am becoming a community health ambassador, someone who will walk beside others with knowledge, love, and purpose. Thank you for investing in future nurses like me. I’m ready to serve, to uplift, and to bring healing where it’s needed most.

My name is Nuhamin, and I am currently a nursing student at Lake Washington Institute of Technology. My journey toward nursing was born not only from a deep desire to help others but also from the life experiences that shaped who I am today—a woman of resilience, compassion, and unwavering purpose. As a first-generation college student and a woman who has overcome the pain of intimate partner violence, I know what it means to fight for a better life. My past has not defined me—it’s refined me. I’ve seen what happens when people feel invisible, voiceless, and unsupported, and I’ve made it my mission to change that. Nursing is not just a career for me—it’s a calling. A way to bring hope, healing, and dignity to people at their most vulnerable. For over three years, I worked as a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA) in memory care, rehabilitation, and long-term care facilities. I’ve held trembling hands, comforted patients with Alzheimer’s, and stood beside families navigating overwhelming diagnoses. Those experiences taught me the heart of nursing is not just clinical knowledge—it’s presence. It’s listening when no one else is. It’s advocating when a patient can’t. It’s knowing that even the smallest acts—helping someone eat, repositioning them, calming their fear—can be transformative. I am drawn to specialize in women’s health and mental health nursing. These areas speak to me because I’ve lived through trauma and come out stronger, and I want to help other women do the same. I believe in trauma-informed care—care that sees beyond symptoms and statistics, and instead embraces the whole person. I want to work with underserved communities, particularly African American women, who too often face disparities in healthcare access, quality, and outcomes. I want to create spaces where they feel safe, heard, and empowered. Preparing for this journey has meant more than taking classes and passing exams. It’s been emotional, spiritual, and deeply personal. I’ve studied hard, maintained a GPA above 3.5, and balanced clinical shifts with academic life. But more than that, I’ve done the inner work—healing, growing, building strength from my past so I can show up fully for others. Nursing school is hard, but nothing compared to the battles I’ve already fought and won. That’s why I’m confident I will succeed—not just academically, but emotionally, ethically, and spiritually. Kelly O.’s story deeply inspires me. She reminds me that nursing isn’t just a job—it’s a legacy. A ripple effect of kindness, skill, and human connection. I want to carry that torch forward. I want to live out her memory by becoming a nurse who mentors, uplifts, and changes lives—just as she did. Receiving this scholarship would not only support me financially, but also remind me that I am not alone on this journey. That others see my potential, believe in my dreams, and honor the strength it’s taken to get here. Thank you for this opportunity to share my story and honor Kelly O.’s legacy. I’m committed to becoming a nurse who makes a difference—one patient, one family, one moment at a time.

I am an African American woman, a nursing student, and a survivor. My story is rooted in strength, not just because I endured domestic violence—but because I chose to break the cycle. For too long, I lived in silence, carrying the weight of manipulation, emotional harm, and moments where I doubted my own worth. But silence no longer defines me. I’m learning to speak, not just for myself, but for the many women who still feel unheard. Growing up, I also witnessed loved ones battling addiction—substances used to escape trauma they never had the tools to face. This created a household marked by instability, sadness, and survival. These experiences didn’t just shape me; they pushed me to pursue a life of service, healing, and hope. That’s why I’m studying nursing at Lake Washington Institute of Technology. I want to be the person I once needed—a nurse who sees beyond the surface, who listens, and who advocates with empathy and cultural understanding. What many don’t realize is that African American women often suffer in silence when it comes to domestic abuse and addiction. Cultural stigma, lack of trust in systems, and generational trauma create barriers to seeking help. We are expected to be “strong,” to hold everything together—and because of that, we often go unheard and unsupported. I plan to change that. Through my nursing education, I’m building the clinical skills and trauma-informed perspective necessary to support African American women facing these challenges. I want to specialize in women’s health or mental health nursing, where I can advocate for better care coordination and trauma-sensitive approaches in both clinical and community settings. I plan to work in clinics and hospitals that serve underrepresented populations and eventually launch initiatives that improve how healthcare professionals screen for abuse, build trust with survivors, and coordinate with social service agencies. But it doesn’t stop there. I also want to become a community educator—offering workshops, safe spaces, and outreach to young women to help them recognize red flags, understand healthy boundaries, and know that it’s okay to ask for help. Education is empowerment. If we can normalize these conversations in our communities, we can prevent more women from suffering in silence the way Linda Hicks did. Linda’s story moved me deeply—because I see parts of myself in her, and I see the path I’m creating as part of her legacy. This scholarship would not only lighten my financial burden but also give me the fuel to continue my mission with boldness and vision. My lived experience is not a weakness—it’s my strength. It allows me to show up fully for others and make a difference where it’s needed most. I am determined to use my education not just to build a career—but to build bridges, restore dignity, and rewrite the outcomes for Black women who have been silenced, ignored, or misunderstood. We deserve care that honors our stories. We deserve futures that are safe, free, and thriving. And I will spend my life helping to make that possible.

As a survivor of intimate partner violence, I understand the quiet devastation that unfolds behind closed doors. The emotional scars, the isolation, the self-doubt—it’s a silent battle that too many of us fight alone. But through my pain, I found purpose. Today, I am a nursing student at Lake Washington Institute of Technology, fueled by the belief that healing is possible—and that I can be part of someone else’s journey toward it. My experiences have shaped me into a compassionate, intuitive, and deeply driven future nurse. Nursing is more than a career for me—it’s a calling. I chose this path because I want to be the kind of presence I once needed: someone calm in the chaos, someone who listens, advocates, and sees the whole person, not just their chart. Survivors of violence often end up in emergency rooms or clinics, not always able to speak up—but a nurse who understands trauma can help break that cycle, even in small, life-changing ways. I’ve worked for over three years as a Certified Nursing Assistant, supporting patients in memory care, rehab, and long-term care. During that time, I’ve learned how powerful compassionate care can be—especially for those who feel unseen. Now, as I continue my education, I plan to become a trauma-informed nurse with a focus on women’s health and mental wellness. I want to serve in spaces where survivors come for help—postpartum units, community clinics, shelters—and one day, help lead initiatives that integrate trauma education into healthcare training. Beyond the bedside, I see myself using my voice to advocate for survivors through education and outreach. One of the biggest barriers to escaping IPV is a lack of awareness, both in communities and in healthcare settings. I plan to create workshops and support spaces that educate others—especially young people—on boundaries, emotional abuse, red flags, and how to seek help. Survivors don’t just need safety; they need support systems, dignity, and empowerment. Education changed my life. It gave me a reason to keep going when everything felt broken. It gave me a vision for a future beyond survival. I believe education can reduce intimate partner violence by giving survivors the tools to become independent, self-sustaining, and confident in their worth. It gives them the language to name what they went through and the power to help others name it too. Most importantly, it turns pain into purpose. Receiving this scholarship would not just support my financial needs—it would honor the path I’ve walked and fuel the impact I plan to make. I’m no longer the woman who felt stuck, silenced, or ashamed. I am rising. And with this degree, I’ll help others rise too.