Helping others is not just something I value. It is the foundation of who I am. My passion for service comes from lived experience. I know what it's like to be unseen, to reach out for help and wonder if anyone will answer. From ages fourteen to sixteen, I lived at Trinity Place Homeless Shelter and was in and out of the juvenile justice system. I experienced firsthand the struggles of instability and the lack of dignity many homeless individuals endure. But those experiences also gave me purpose, a drive to ensure that no one around me feels as invisible as I once did. Returning to Trinity Place as a volunteer was one of the most meaningful moments of my life. I was no longer just surviving. I was giving back to those walking the same path I once had. I coordinated funds and donations, ensuring the youth at the shelter had access to essentials, clothing, and small luxuries. I knew how much a simple gesture could restore dignity. More than just providing resources, I wanted to remind them they were seen and valued while also inspiring them to help others in their own ways. After Hurricane Helene devastated my home, I faced loss all over again. My home was condemned due to severe flood contamination, forcing me to relocate. Yet even then, my focus remained on others. I coordinated food distribution for elderly neighbors who could not leave their homes, ensuring they had meals when resources were scarce. I also helped with essential tasks such as flushing toilets where plumbing had failed and cleaning where I could. Even in the wake of disaster, I held onto the belief that no one should feel abandoned. I hoped to ease their burden while also encouraging a sense of community, showing that small acts of kindness can create a ripple effect. My commitment to service extends into education. As a peer tutor, I have worked with students facing academic challenges, many struggling with circumstances beyond their control. I understand what it feels like to have the odds stacked against you, but I also know how much guidance and encouragement can make a difference. Tutoring has never been just about academics. It has been about helping others believe in their potential, just as I have fought to do in my own life. My goal has always been to create a cycle of support and empowerment, so those I help feel encouraged to lift others up as well. Despite the obstacles I have faced, I have remained committed to my education, maintaining strong academic performance while balancing my responsibilities to others. Now I am transferring to Montclair University to complete my bachelor's degree in physics with a concentration in astronomy, followed by a master's degree in applied mathematics. My goal is to become an astrophysicist, a dream I have clung to even in my most difficult moments. However, pursuing this ambition comes with challenges. I am entirely responsible for funding my education, and this scholarship would provide critical support in helping me continue on this path. This scholarship is more than financial assistance. It is an opportunity to continue uplifting others and to prove that success is not just about personal achievement but about empowering those around you. My experiences have taught me that resilience isn't just about enduring hardship but about transforming adversity into purpose. I hope that those I have helped, whether through food distribution, tutoring, or community service, are inspired to create change in their own ways. No matter where life takes me, I will always carry this commitment with me.

Last summer, I woke up exhausted after cramming for my summer courses. I felt the crust in my eyes before opening them. Taking extra classes seemed like a good idea, but at that moment, I just wanted to go back to sleep. I grabbed my phone, shut off my alarm, and opened Instagram like I did every morning. That was when I saw the message from Ethan’s girlfriend. "I am so sorry to tell you this. Ethan overdosed last night." I stared at the screen, rereading the words, confused. I was in shock. I even asked if she was joking. I have been through hard things, homelessness, eating disorders, and my own addiction that nearly destroyed my relationships with everyone around me. But those were things I could blame myself for. Ethan’s death was different. There was no one to blame, and nothing I could do to change it. I met Ethan in eighth grade. He had been held back a year, and I was the nerdy autistic girl who struggled to make friends. Because of my autism and his ADHD, we were sat together at a smaller table in the corner of the room to help us focus. Middle school was cruel to me, but Ethan never was. He made school feel less lonely. We reconnected in high school, but by then, both of our lives had taken a turn. Addiction snuck into both of us. At first, it was a way to cope, to escape from the instability, but it quickly became something neither of us could control. We both told ourselves the same lie, that we had it under control, that we could stop whenever we wanted. I got clean, and he told everyone he had too. I believed him. After Ethan died, I kept asking myself the same questions. What if I had paid more attention? Would I have noticed the signs? Could I have stopped it? I was so overwhelmed with school, so busy trying to rebuild my own future, that I barely had time to hang out. I told myself we would catch up later, when things calmed down, when I had more time. But later never came. Losing Ethan changed everything. It made me realize that addiction is not something you outrun. It is always there, waiting for a moment of weakness. His death made me question everything, why did I make it out when he didn’t? How many second chances do we really get? And if I was so sure I was in control, what made me any different from him? For a while, I was afraid. I thought about how easily my story could have ended the same way. But Ethan never got the chance to rebuild his life, I still have mine. I still have the opportunity to make something of myself, to push forward, and to prove that our stories do not have to end in tragedy. This fall, I will graduate with both my high school diploma and my associate’s degree, something I never thought I would accomplish. I have been accepted to Montclair State University, where I will earn a Bachelor’s in Physics with a concentration in Astronomy and an accelerated Master’s in Applied Mathematics. Addiction has shaped my life, my relationships, my struggles, and how I see the world. But it does not define me. I refuse to let my story end like Ethan’s did. Instead, I will use it to show others that no matter how far you fall, there is always a way back.

My name is Nyah Slattery, and I am a first-generation college student, an autistic woman in STEM, and an aspiring astrophysicist. I come from a mixed Caribbean family and have always been drawn to creativity and discovery. Whether painting, designing fashion, getting lost in video games, or staring at the night sky, I have always loved exploring new ideas. I started as a fine arts major because creating has always been part of who I am, but I realized that my love for science was just as strong. To me, physics and art are not opposites. Both are ways of understanding and imagining the world, and I have never been someone who fits into just one box. As a first-generation college student, I have had to navigate higher education without a guide. No one in my family could explain how to apply for college, secure financial aid, or plan for a career in science. Every decision and opportunity, I had to seek out myself. But I refused to let the lack of guidance hold me back. This spring, I will graduate with an Associate’s in Science, a milestone that once felt impossible. Then, Hurricane Helene turned my world upside down. Before the storm, I balanced full-time work with school, pushing through exhaustion because I knew what was at stake. But when Helene hit, I lost my job, my home was damaged, and suddenly, my future felt uncertain. The financial strain has been overwhelming, and the damage to my home has made it impossible to stay. This fall, I will be relocating to New Jersey to rebuild and continue my education. At Montclair State University, I will continue my undergraduate studies with my Bachelor’s in Physics with a Concentration in Astronomy and my Master’s in Applied Mathematics through an accelerated dual-degree program. Choosing Montclair was about securing the best education in the most efficient and financially responsible way. The total tuition for both degrees is $42,000 a year, a significant investment, but one that saves me money in the long run by allowing me to complete my master’s at a reduced cost. While this program makes financial sense, it is still a major challenge, and I cannot afford it on my own. With no financial support from my family, I have worked multiple jobs since I was 15 to fund my education, often balancing full-time work with full-time school. The Sikora Drake Women in STEM Scholarship is more than just financial assistance. It is the opportunity to continue my education without the constant fear of whether I can afford it. This scholarship would ease that burden, allowing me to focus on my studies, research, and the impact I want to make. My dream is to earn a Ph.D. in astrophysics, not just to study the universe but to help change the landscape of STEM. As a neurodivergent woman, I know what it feels like to be in spaces that were not built for people like me. I want to change that. I want to create opportunities for young women and neurodivergent students who dream of pursuing science but feel like they do not belong. For me, science is not just about equations or theories. It is about resilience and proving that no matter where you come from or what challenges you face, you can carve out a place for yourself in the world. The Sikora Drake Women in STEM Scholarship would not just help me reach my goals. It would allow me to create space for others to do the same.

Becoming an astrophysicist specializing in black holes and dark matter is my ultimate goal. I plan to focus my research at Montclair University on gravitational waves and the LIGO (Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory) project to better understand how black holes interact and how gravitational waves ripple through spacetime. To achieve this goal, I need to secure funding for my education and gain hands-on experience in astrophysics research. My financial strategy is well-structured, allowing me to meet the costs through scholarships, personal contributions, and strategic budgeting. The cost of attendance at Montclair University is $47,000 per year after my merit scholarship. I have already been awarded the $5,000 Presidential Scholarship, which provides me with access to alumni, first-priority internships, and exclusive STEM networking events. These opportunities will allow me to connect with professionals in astrophysics, apply for competitive research positions, and build relationships with mentors in the field. In addition, I have been approved for $5,500 in federal loans and will contribute $5,000 per year from my personal income and savings. This leaves $31,500 per year that I need to cover through scholarships and grants. To meet this goal, I am actively applying for scholarships through platforms such as Scholarships.com, Scholarships360, Bold.org, Going Merry, as well as local scholarships. My goal is to earn at least 30 $1000 scholarships every year to cover tuition. I have already won a scholarship that covered my deposit, with additional funds left over, and I will continue securing funding through persistent applications. To improve my finances, I plan to work part-time as a tutor in mathematics and physics, which will not only provide a source of income but also reinforce my own knowledge. I am also exploring undergraduate research assistant positions that offer stipends, particularly in Montclair’s gravitational wave research programs. I am also very resourceful and can always find a side hustle! Beyond finances, I am taking deliberate steps to gain expertise in astrophysics. Montclair University is involved in gravitational wave research, with faculty contributing to LIGO and related projects. I plan to join a research team analyzing gravitational wave data, using mathematical models to study black hole mergers and neutron star collisions. Engaging in undergraduate research will allow me to contribute to cutting-edge discoveries, gain experience with advanced computational techniques, and collaborate with faculty working on real-world astrophysical problems. I also intend to apply for summer internships at NASA, the National Science Foundation (NSF), or private aerospace companies to gain hands-on experience in astrophysics and data analysis. Through my Presidential Scholarship benefits, I will have first-priority access to internship placements and exclusive networking events, allowing me to build connections and gain mentorship from leading experts in my field. Additionally, I will present my research at academic conferences, enhancing my credibility and positioning myself for future opportunities in graduate programs and research institutions. Long-term, I plan to pursue a Ph.D. in astrophysics and work in gravitational wave research, either at a major research institution, a government agency like NASA, or a collaborative project like LIGO. By studying gravitational waves, I hope to deepen our understanding of black holes, dark matter, and the structure of spacetime, while also contributing to technological advancements in precision measurement and quantum physics. Through scholarships, personal earnings, research opportunities, and strategic networking, and with your help, I can ensure that financial barriers do not stand in the way of my aspirations. With careful planning, persistence, and dedication, I am confident that I will not only complete my degrees but also contribute meaningful advancements to the field of astrophysics.

Last week, I walked into Neverland Café in North Miami Beach, feeling like I had nothing left to give. Miami was once a place where my queer siblings and I could be ourselves without fear. Where Pride flags waved freely, and where the LGBTQIA+ community had carved out spaces of celebration and resilience. But over the last few years, Miami has changed. Hate crimes are on the rise, queer spaces feel less safe, and policies targeting trans and nonbinary people have gained traction. I had just spent the weekend helping with my cousin's baby shower, surrounded by people who love me in theory but do not accept all of me. In many immigrant communities, queerness is often seen as something that must be hidden or outgrown. My family is no different. Throughout the weekend, I heard anti-queer comments, casual dismissals of my two trans siblings' and my identities, and unspoken reminders I had shown up for my family, but they had never once shown up for me. By the time the weekend ended, I felt completely drained knowing these same people had voted for leaders who want to erase me and my siblings. I needed to be somewhere that did not make me feel small. So I walked into Neverland Café. I met Johnny Mimosa, a cashier who radiated confidence in a way that was almost defiant. He was effortlessly, unapologetically himself, chatting with customers, laughing loudly, and taking up space without hesitation. In a city that felt more hostile by the day, he was fierce. He took my order like it was any other day. He did not tone himself down, did not shrink, did not visibly carry the exhaustion that had settled into my bones. He was living proof that queer joy still exists, even in the face of adversity. I sat down across from my mom. She saw the way I slumped over my plate, the way I barely touched my food. I exhaled. “It just feels like it’s getting worse.” She nodded, letting me sit with that feeling before saying something that cut through the tension. “This is what they want, they want you tired,” she said. “They want you so drained, so broken down, that you stop fighting.” I turned my head, watching Johnny Mimosa behind the counter, still existing. He was not small. He was not shrinking. He was not giving them what they wanted. And this is not the first time they have tried to erase us. My queer predecessors had fought harder battles. They fought through Stonewall, through the AIDS crisis, through laws that criminalized their existence. They did not give up. They paved the way for me to stand where I am now. I left Neverland Café that night different than when I walked in. Since that night, I have thrown myself back into activism with a renewed sense of purpose. I continue to advocate for neurodivergent LGBTQIA+ students in STEM, ensuring that queer, autistic people like me have a place in scientific fields. I refuse to be silent when trans lives are under attack, because silence is what they want, and I refuse to give it to them. I give back to my community through mutual aid, just as my community has lifted me when I needed it most. That night, my mom reminded me of something I had almost forgotten: They will never stop trying to erase us. But as long as we refuse to disappear, they cannot win. We are still here. We have always been here. And as long as I am standing, I will keep fighting.

The first time I truly connected with the world was by looking beyond it. The night sky was vast, filled with infinite possibilities, yet it made me feel safe. Space did not demand small talk or expect me to change who I was to fit in. It simply existed, patient and full of mysteries waiting to be explored. Growing up autistic, the world often felt overwhelming. Conversations were confusing, and I struggled to find where I belonged. Doctors and teachers warned my mother that I would struggle, that my autism would limit what I could do. I heard the whispers too. Words like “incapable” and “not meant for big things” followed me, quietly shaping the way people saw me before I ever had the chance to prove myself. But space did not judge me. While the world around me was loud and demanding, space was patient. I lived in books about planets, black holes, and time itself. The more I learned, the more I realized that science was about more than just understanding the universe. It was about questioning the limits of under At fourteen, I was sent to Trinity Place Teen Homeless Shelter in Asheville. Everything familiar, stability, privacy, the comfort of knowing what tomorrow would bring, was gone. The world had always felt unpredictable, but in the shelter, that uncertainty became my reality. For a kid who relied on structure to feel safe, it was terrifying. The constant movement between places, the lack of control, and the feeling of being invisible wore on me. I read physics textbooks whenever I could, finding comfort in the idea that the universe followed laws. Even in chaos, there was order. No matter where I was, the stars remained constant. If they could shine in the darkness, then so could I. After leaving the shelter, I made a promise to give back. I donated items to Trinity Place, things I had longed for when I was there, skateboards, makeup, and warm clothing. Small comforts that made me feel like a person rather than just a survivor. That promise became even stronger after Hurricane Helene displaced my family and many families in my community. Watching them lose everything reminded me how fragile stability can be. As a family, we volunteered to help those impacted, offering food and supplies to people who, like me, had suddenly found themselves without resources. The experience deepened my commitment to helping others, whether through direct support or my long-term goal of using science to make a difference. Now, I am attending Buncombe County Middle College, working toward my Associate’s in Science and preparing to graduate in Spring 2024. My love for physics and astronomy is not just about exploring the cosmos, it is about using science to improve life here on Earth. Space exploration has already led to advances in climate monitoring, medical imaging, and disaster response technology. I want to contribute to these innovations, using research to develop better climate models, sustainable energy solutions, and tools that help communities facing instability. Beyond research, I am committed to advocating for neurodivergent students in STEM. Too often, autistic individuals are overlooked despite their unique perspectives and problem-solving abilities. I want to change that. I hope to create a world where neurodivergent minds are valued and supported in scientific fields. Despite challenges, my family has supported me, and while I once stood under the night sky, wondering where I belonged. Now, I know. I belong among the dreamers, the problem-solvers, and the advocates. The universe is full of possibilities, and I am ready to find my place among the stars.

Growing up, I watched my single mother scrub toilets to afford our school uniforms. Despite our struggles, she always kept an open door for neighborhood kids, offering meals, a place to play, and even a shower if needed. Her generosity shaped my values and instilled in me the importance of giving back. From ages 14 to 16, I lived in Trinity Place Teen Homeless Shelter in Asheville due to domestic struggles. Those years were some of the hardest of my life. Moving between shelters, I didn’t have the stability of a home, a place to feel safe, rest, or dream. I lacked privacy, space, and access to many of the small comforts most people take for granted, like my own bed, a phone, or personal belongings. Each day was a reminder of how isolating and dehumanizing homelessness can feel, especially as a teenager. Living at Trinity Place taught me that homelessness is not just about lacking a roof over your head, it’s about the loss of dignity, security, and hope. Too often, homeless individuals are treated as invisible, but my experiences showed me how much compassion and support can mean to someone in that position. This understanding has fueled my passion for addressing homelessness as widespread issue. When I left the shelter, I worked full-time, sometimes at multiple jobs, while attending school full-time. As I rebuilt my life, I sought ways to give back to the community that once helped me. I started by donating items to Trinity Place that would have brought me comfort during my stay, like skateboards, makeup, and other small luxuries that reminded me of my individuality. Although Trinity Place has since closed due to funding, my commitment to helping the homeless community has only grown. Working downtown, I witness Asheville’s housing crisis every day. I’ve made it a personal mission to support those in need by providing food, hot coffee, bus passes for the heated buses, and warm clothing to the homeless individuals on Wall Street, where I work. These small acts of kindness help me give back in meaningful ways, offering a bit of relief during Asheville’s harsh winters where many homeless individuals pass away. After Hurricane Helene, I also volunteered and donated to assist those displaced by the storm. Seeing people lose their homes, like my own sister, reminded me how important stability is and reaffirmed my dedication to fostering empathy and connection in my community. As I continue my life, I carry with me the lessons I learned during my time at Trinity Place: the importance of kindness, the resilience of the human spirit, and the power of even the smallest acts of compassion. My experiences shaped my commitment to creating a world where no one feels invisible or unworthy of care.

When I was in second grade, my teacher asked the room of bright-eyed and runny-nosed 7-year-olds the cliché elementary question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Without hesitation, I raised my hand and answered, “I want to be a scientist.” That simple statement 12 years ago marked the beginning of my academic journey—a pursuit of knowledge that has shaped who I am today: a woman with an unshakable passion for STEM, a dream of exploring the cosmos, and a determination to break barriers in a male-dominated field. I have chosen to pursue STEM to explore some of the most elusive, unanswered questions in physics and uncover the solutions hidden within the data. How do neutrinos acquire their mysterious masses? Could supermassive black holes genuinely originate from seeds? Is Penrose right about the Big Crunch? These inquiries have expanded my curiosity beyond the natural world into the fundamental nature of matter. After completing my Associate in Science this spring, I will enroll in Montclair State University’s dual-degree program, where I will earn a Bachelor’s in Physics with a Concentration in Astronomy and a Master’s in Applied Mathematics. This scholarship will help fund my education and make my dream of astronomical innovation a reality. My goal is to help piece together the puzzles that astronomers and physicists have yet to solve, fostering innovation and contributing to our understanding of the cosmos. I aim to answer the unknown while simultaneously revolutionizing technology and space communication through improved data analysis and extraterrestrial understanding. Equally important to me is creating meaningful change within the STEM field itself. As a disabled woman from Miami’s Southside ghettos, I understand the challenges of navigating spaces where representation is scarce. My experiences have fueled a passion for empowering others, especially young girls, disabled or not, who dream of entering STEM. While being on the spectrum often made it hard to exist in a world that seemed to understand black holes more than it did me, it has also been one of my greatest strengths. I want to show young girls that the obstacles we face do not define our potential, and inspire the next generation to pursue their dreams fearlessly. Today, I contribute to this goal by fostering online academic conversations and communities. With your support, tomorrow I can help develop and lead outreach programs that empower young girls, especially those in underserved and disabled communities, to explore and pursue STEM fields. STEM is not just my passion; it is my purpose. With the help of this scholarship, I believe I can bridge gaps in our understanding of the universe, foster technological innovation, and help build a more diverse and equitable scientific community. By representing underserved voices, I hope to help reshape the future of astronomy and STEM, proving that innovation flourishes when driven by diverse perspectives.