My mentor and mentee experience has given me a unique perspective on both roles. It wasn't until my role as a mentor that I knew what kind of life I wanted to lead. In my freshman year of high school, I had a sophomore mentor that helped me settle into the life and routine of a high school student. The experience of being guided by Hannah helped me to test my love for clubs and other student-led events. As a result of her mentorship, I learned about how I could be a part of a community. My heart was touched when Hannah attended our fall play, knowing I had a lead role in it. Because of how nervous I was heading in, she wanted to support me; it was not something she was obligated to do outside of mentoring hours. Due to the majority-white nature of my high school, it was easy to feel marginalized based on race or culture. The importance of having a mentor who understands your background wasn't something our school had looked into prior. Both as a mentor and a black woman, I hope to be a source of comfort and reassurance for those I lead. In light of how far I've come, I believe being vulnerable can only be beneficial. Having someone say, "try everything and make mistakes along the way," is what I needed to hear, so I know many others are seeking the same thing. Everyone needs someones in the crowd to cheer for them or simply acknowledge their presence. It is difficult to have questions go unanswered when nothing is guaranteed. No experience is the same as another. My job is to be a role model and support system. I can only support them as they become whom they want to be.

To me, Black girl magic and Black excellence both do not have singular definitions. What they mean to me may vary depending on the day. Together they mean to uphold authenticity while embracing your Blackness in its truest form, whether it be physically, mentally, emotionally, or culturally. To uphold authenticity is to be bold and open to growth in challenging times of hardships. My Black girl magic and excellence have allowed me to be the leader I have always wanted to see. Over so many years, Black women, young and old, have been told or even taught that they have to be strong and independent. That is why I am on a journey to become a cross-cultural therapist working in low-income, unrepresented communities. From my childhood to my current state of young adulthood, I have yearned to encounter someone on a similar path to my own, willing to share their lived experience while providing advice and resources in my times of trouble and sorrow. Time and time again, I have found myself needing a guide to point me in the right direction when my crown has fallen or my shine has dimmed. I deserved someone who could have told me at a young age that sometimes internally, as a young Black, I wasn't going to feel like my true self all the time, and it's okay to acknowledge those feeling, to not bottle them until I burst. I want to say that I empower others by acting on the most remarkable thing possible, self-love, but unfortunately for me, that would be a lie. Some days I wake up, and the self-love I had the day prior has fled my body and heart. On those days, I am vulnerable. Vulnerability is often viewed as a sign of weakness, but that is far from the truth. Acting on my vulnerability is my strength. I use that part of me to uplift those around me because the ability to relate to others goes a long way. When sharing your story and state with an open mind and heart, nothing can go wrong; you are you. Through my vulnerability, I hope that the people who look like me and come from similar backgrounds can find themselves acting on their vulnerability in their daily lives. Throughout my life, my family has taught me that serving others is what's most important, and after exploring different aspects of the world without their guidance, I can't help but agree. My only desire in life is to do good and protect others in their time of need and healing.

My family has suffered the burden of death and financial hardship throughout my entire life. My parents are divorced, which has caused emotional strain on me since I was a child. I have witnessed the burial of both my uncles as well as both of my grandmothers. Most of which happened while I was younger, so the concept of death has always left me feeling highly conflicted. At the end of my first year, a week before finals, my grandmother, whom I was extremely close to, passed away. I don't think I had ever experienced pain as bad as when I knew she was gone. Seeing my mother and siblings so distraught only made me feel worse. My family is full of caregivers; because of them, I never want to see anyone hold back how they feel or feel lost and alone. My grandmother's death was so unbearable that I considered dropping out. That is something that I would never have expected from myself because that's not who I am, but the feeling of being alone can make you second guess your potential to succeed or what your purpose in life may be. The day before I took my first final exam, my dad talked to me about what my grandma would have expected from me. He told me that she knew my heart and intentions and that I should never let life stray me from my dream and destiny, no matter how hard life may be. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. Therefore, rather than dropping out of school, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. As a small black family living in a predominantly white city and attending, white schools hasn't been easy, and I'm not sure it ever will be, but achieving the goal of becoming a cross-cultural therapist will allow me to guide others in the way that I haven't been if I can be someone support beam. I know that I have done something right by myself and my family. Black psychologists are in high demand because people of the Black community are struggling. I can say that I openly identify as one of those people. That is not to say that someone has to have a problem in order to see a therapist, but therapy has been taboo in many communities for quite some time now. I want to break that stereotype; therapy is a healthy option regardless of what state you may be in. Throughout my life, my family has taught me that serving others is what's most important, and after exploring different aspects of the world without their guidance, I can't help but agree. My only desire in life is to do good and protect others in their time of need and healing. I haven't been promised that by society, but one day I can promise that to a child who has been in my position.

The Taking of Jake Livingston, that's the book that reunited me with my love for reading. Jake Livingston is a Black junior in high school who attends a predominantly white institution, where he is one of three Black students other than his brother. Jake, a medium who can see ghosts at every turn, finds himself haunted by an evil spirit in his town while attempting to balance falling in love with a new guy at his school. Reading this book made me feel like a 10-year-old again, staying up past my bedtime reading books until the sun rose the next morning. I found it extremely difficult to read for my enjoyment during high school because of such a heavy workload. I rarely had time to sit down and enjoy a book between classes, homework, extracurricular activities, and work. My love for reading was lost, but not forever. The summer heading into my first year of college, I knew I needed to settle down, relax and enjoy what time I had before picking up and moving on to my next journey. In high school, the plot usually revolved around their violent trauma if we were ever reading books that included black characters. They never got their happy ending. A happy ending isn't necessary for stories, but it is nice to take a break every now and then. The Taking of Jake Livingston provided me with a thrill and a pump of adrenaline. The supernatural and thrillers are not my cup of tea, but this book was just enough to push me over the edge. Not every book I read needs to be serious or have some dramatic lesson for me to learn; sometimes, things need to be easy. There's nothing wrong with that; joy should come easy.

I remember the first time I heard the name Katherine Johnson. It was right after the movie Hidden Figures had been released. The novel Hidden Figures was a birthday gift from a close friend of my mother, who cared deeply about young Black girls, like myself, seeing themselves positively portrayed in the media. After reading the book, seeing a Black woman of such high caliber as Katherine Johnson portrayed on the big screen seemed surreal. Although I was only thirteen and not an award-decorated American mathematician who had worked for NASA, I related to many of her story's hardships. Katherine Johnson got to where she was because she was intelligent, dedicated, self-assured, and unapologetic. Continuous criticism of your race or gender can undermine your confidence and ability to perform, making you appear unreliable. Ms. Johnson had a job to do: to develop perfect calculations of orbital mechanics for the successful mission of the first and subsequent U.S. crewed spaceflights. She stood her ground and fulfilled her duties, gaining respect from her peers. What Ms. Jonhson accomplished can't be achieved overnight, but we must start somewhere. Katherine Johnson's story was my start. Black women in the psychology field are in high demand, partially due to our own life-led experiences. Despite a workplace dominated by white men, the Black women outside of her work kept her afloat. Those women understood what it meant to be discredited, and I, too, know that feeling. Black women in psychology are in high demand, partially due to our unique experiences. My only desire in life is to do good and protect others in their time of need and healing. Like Katherine Johnson, I haven't been promised that by society, but one day I can promise that to a child who has been in my position.

Mental health awareness is at an all-time high. One of the most practical solutions for helping more people who struggle with mental health is to be more transparent about how we feel daily. In my first year of college, I struggled a lot mentally, some caused by homesickness, financial burden, and most importantly, loss. At the end of the year, a week before finals, my grandmother, whom I was extremely close to, passed away. I don't think I ever experienced pain as bad as when I knew she was gone. Seeing my mother and siblings so distraught only made me feel worse. After returning to campus after being away with my family, I had to plan to avoid my friends entirely. I couldn't stand being around people who didn't understand my pain and were happy while I was in such a dark place. The only problem was I couldn't avoid my friends forever, I would see them in class or the dining hall, and I just couldn't get away. After hanging out with night, I mentioned that I would have to head back home early to finish the year, but once they asked why I had to tell them it would be for my grandmother's funeral and to be with my family. They were extremely understanding, and little did I know a friend was dealing with something quite similar. When struggling with mental health, it's easy to feel singled out and like no one could understand what you're going through. Life isn't that simple no one's struggle is worse than someone else's, but that doesn't mean that someone else's feelings or your own isn't valid. Admitting to your hardships doesn't make you weak; humans aren't meant to be invincible; we're meant to feel. One person's vulnerability goes a long way.

Some like to say that patience is a virtue, and I, too, believe in that statement. Growing up, we are taught to respect our elders and help them in times of need but that can mean various things. During the pandemic, I worked in a local store with many elderly customers who were frequent shoppers. Pandemic aside, our store was advancing at a rapid rate. We had a new line, payment, and rewards system; even our store had been rearranged. With that being said, we constantly had confused elderly customers, many of whom reminded me of my grandparents. Many would make their way to the counter, fumbling their cards, cash, and coupons, frequently apologizing for holding up the line. I had absolutely no problem reassuring them that their time was valued and that I would be willing to help in any way I could. Before her recent passing, I would go shopping with my grandmother, who was sick and suffering from hearing loss, and I could only hope that workers would be as understanding and patient as I have been in numerous situations. It should be understood that the younger generation, myself included, will one day be the elderly community, and carrying with me that patience is vital in keeping the comfort of those around me has helped me not just as a person but as a fellow community member.

The thought of living in a world without my mother seems unimaginable. Although it's not true, I feel as though I have spent every waking moment of my life besides her. My mom has been a caregiver all my life, whether it be what she does for work or in her free time. In May of this year, my family and I lost my grandmother to leukemia, and my mom lost whom her world revolved around, her best friend, her mom. My mom spent every other day with her mom for the past five or six years attending chemotherapy. In addition, my mom has lost her father, her brothers, and now her mother. As the youngest of four, I think that I have the closest relationship with my mom, although I have had the least amount of time with her. Growing up, I have always thought that my mom was invincible, but she isn't, no matter how hard she pretends. At my current age, I want to pretend that she'll live forever, but that isn't the case. All I ever wanted to do was make my mom proud, and after my grandmother died, she feared that the mental toll of the situation might cause me to drop out of school, and frankly, I thought so too. She says there may be times when she is upset with me, but that would never last because she loves me. Regardless of my decision, she would be there to lead me in any way she could. My mom is my biggest supporter, but she will always push me in the direction of a challenge. That's why my dream is to be like her. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. Rather than dropping out of school, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. My mom may not be a therapist or holding my hand every step of the way, but she has taught me to do what I love, and I love being there for others. In recent years I have realized the importance of expressing my feeling and being vulnerable, especially in times of fear. My passion to be a therapist for young black girls like myself is because of my relationship with my mother and other women in my family; we all thrive off of helping others but forget ourselves along the way. Moms are strong, but they cry and feel pain too. I desire to be my mother's keeper just as she has been to me. I hope to be the haven and keeper of loss-stricken mothers and daughters of numerous backgrounds allowing them to fear, care and feel because their experiences are valid too.

In the event that I was awarded $1,000 today, I would pay $200 for enrollment fees and the remaining $800 for tuition. After experiencing countless family hardships and considering dropping out, I have decided to leave my current university and move back to my hometown to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. Unfortunately, my last-minute decision to transfer has left me without funds, so I cannot take advantage of the opportunities available at my university. Since I am balancing financial setbacks and family losses, money has been a touchy subject for me, and I am keen to do everything in my power to stay on track. However, competent spending is my top priority at the moment. In no way would I describe myself as a materialistic individual or someone whose livelihood revolves around money, but my education has suffered due to the lack of funding. Even though $1000 won't cover my entire tuition or every dollar of loans I have had to take out, it does provide me with some advantages. No matter how small of a difference it may be, I firmly believe that just a little goes a long way.

One of the most practical solutions for helping more people who struggle with mental health is to be more transparent about how we feel daily. In my first year of college, I struggled a lot mentally, some caused by homesickness, financial burden, and most importantly, loss. At the end of the year, a week before finals, my grandmother, whom I was extremely close to, passed away. I don't think I ever experienced pain as bad as when I knew she was gone. Seeing my mother and siblings so distraught only made me feel worse. After returning to campus after being away with my family, I had to plan to avoid my friends entirely. I couldn't stand being around people who didn't understand my pain and were happy while I was in such a dark place. The only problem was I couldn't avoid my friends forever, I would see them in class or the dining hall, and I just couldn't get away. After hanging out with night, I mentioned that I would have to head back home early to finish the year, but once they asked why I had to tell them it would be for my grandmother's funeral and to be with my family. They were extremely understanding, and little did I know a friend was dealing with something quite similar. When struggling with mental health, it's easy to feel singled out and like no one could understand what you're going through. Life isn't that simple no one's struggle is worse than someone else's, but that doesn't mean that someone else's feelings or your own isn't valid. Admitting to your hardships doesn't make you weak; we as humans aren't meant to be invincible; we're meant to feel. One person's vulnerability goes a long way.

My mom is my biggest supporter, but she will always push me in the direction of a challenge. That's why my dream is to be like her. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. After countless family hardships and the contemplation of dropping out, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. My mom may not be a therapist or holding my hand every step of the way, but she has taught me to do what I love, and I love being there for others. In recent years I have realized the importance of expressing my feelings and being vulnerable, especially in times of fear. My passion to be a therapist for young black girls like myself is because of my relationship with my mother and other women in my family; we all thrive off of helping others but forget ourselves along the way. Receiving a higher education gives me the platform to shape the world I live in. Gaining a psychology degree gets me one step closer to providing help to those who years ago may not have received it. I hope to be the haven and keeper of loss-stricken mothers and daughters of numerous backgrounds allowing them to fear, care and feel because their experiences are valid too. Feeling alone and helpless is a feeling I would not wish on anyone; no one deserves to feel that way. Throughout high school and especially my first year of college, I have had many dark moments, some caused by loss, homesickness, and financial burden. There were times when I thought there was no one in the world that could understand how I felt or provide an explanation for my thoughts, but I have learned that I have been without resources and advocacy for my well-being. My education will allow me to advocate for others and further that advocacy by educating others. My only desire in life is to do good and protect others in their time of need and healing. I haven't been promised that by society, but one day I can promise that to a child who has been in my position. Through education that promise can be fulfilled.

My mom is my biggest supporter, but she will always push me in the direction of a challenge. That's why my dream is to be like her. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. After countless family hardships and the contemplation of dropping out, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. My mom may not be a therapist or holding my hand every step of the way, but she has taught me to do what I love, and I love being there for others. In recent years I have realized the importance of expressing my feelings and being vulnerable, especially in times of fear. My passion to be a therapist for young black girls like myself is because of my relationship with my mother and other women in my family; we all thrive off of helping others but forget ourselves along the way. Receiving a higher education gives me the platform to shape the world I live in. Gaining a psychology degree gets me one step closer to providing help to those who years ago may not have received it. I hope to be the haven and keeper of loss-stricken mothers and daughters of numerous backgrounds allowing them to fear, care and feel because their experiences are valid too. Feeling alone and helpless is a feeling I would not wish on anyone; no one deserves to feel that way. Throughout high school and especially my first year of college, I have had many dark moments, some caused by loss, homesickness, and financial burden. There were times when I thought there was no one in the world that could understand how I felt or provide an explanation for my thoughts, but I have learned that I have been without resources and advocacy for my well-being. My education will allow me to advocate for others and further that advocacy by educating others.

The thought of living in a world without my mother seems unimaginable. Although it's not true, I feel as though I have spent every waking moment of my life besides her. My mom has been a caregiver all my life, whether it be what she does for work or in her free time. In May of this year, my family and I lost my grandmother to leukemia, and my mom lost whom her world revolved around, her best friend, her mom. My mom spent every other day with her mom for the past five or six years attending chemotherapy. In addition, my mom has lost her father, her brothers, and now her mother. As the youngest of four, I think that I have the closest relationship with my mom, although I have had the least amount of time with her. Growing up, I have always thought that my mom was invincible, but she isn't, no matter how hard she pretends. At my current age, I want to pretend that she'll live forever, but that isn't the case. All I ever wanted to do was make my mom proud, and after my grandmother died, she feared that the mental toll of the situation might cause me to drop out of school, and frankly, I thought so too. She says there may be times when she is upset with me, but that would never last because she loves me. Regardless of my decision, she would be there to lead me in any way she could. My mom is my biggest supporter, but she will always push me in the diffraction of a challenge. That's why my dream is to be like her. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. Rather than dropping out of school, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. My mom may not be a therapist or holding my hand every step of the way, but she has taught me to do what I love, and I love being there for others. In recent years I have realized the importance of expressing my feeling and being vulnerable, especially in times of fear. My passion to be a therapist for young black girls like myself is because of my relationship with my mother and other women in my family; we all thrive off of helping others but forget ourselves along the way. Moms are strong, but they cry and feel pain too. I desire to be my mother's keeper just as she has been to me. I hope to be the haven and keeper of loss-stricken mothers and daughters of numerous backgrounds allowing them to fear, care and feel because their experiences are valid too.

My family has suffered the burden of death and financial hardship throughout my entire life. My parents are divorced, which has caused emotional strain on me since I was a child. I have witnessed the burial of both my uncles as well as both of my grandmothers. Most of which happened while I was younger, so the concept of death has always left me feeling highly conflicted. At the end of my first year, a week before finals, my grandmother, whom I was extremely close to, passed away. I don't think I had ever experienced pain as bad as when I knew she was gone. Seeing my mother and siblings so distraught only made me feel worse. My family is full of caregivers; because of them, I never want to see anyone hold back how they feel or feel lost and alone. My grandmother's death was so unbearable that I considered dropping out. That is something that I would never have expected from myself because that's not who I am, but the feeling of being alone can make you second guess your potential to succeed or what your purpose in life may be. The day before I took my first final exam, my dad talked to me about what my grandma would have expected from me. He told me that she knew my heart and intentions and that I should never let life stray me from my dream and destiny, no matter how hard life may be. I dream of becoming a cross-cultural therapist working in unrepresented communities, one of which is my community. Therefore, rather than dropping out of school, I have decided to leave my current university and move back home to be closer to my family and continue my studies at the University of Oregon. College isn't something my grandparents or parents have had the privilege to attend, and their life experiences make me want to go the extra mile and make the world into a place we can only hope it could be. As a small black family living in a predominantly white city and attending, white schools hasn't been easy, and I'm not sure it ever will be, but achieving the goal of becoming a cross-cultural therapist will allow me to guide others in the way that I haven't been if I can be someone support beam. I know that I have done something right by myself and my family. My only desire in life is to do good and protect others in their time of need and healing. I haven't been promised that by society, but one day I can promise that to a child who has been in my position.