In 8th grade, my mom and I went to the Project 440 College Fair for Musicians at the Kimmel Center. I was enveloped by the conversations of colleges from across the country, and while it took some courage, I managed to meet and discuss my plans of majoring in music with some professors. One table that caught my eye was the USC Thornton School of Music from Los Angeles; they had this huge poster that, on one side, had an alphabetical list of various music careers and a rainbow-colored, categorical web that connected them all on the other. The careers ranged from an orchestral musician, a sound engineer, a piano technician, and even a sound engineer. I loved it so much I accidentally took two posters. That poster showed that music can be a catalyst for success in many other careers outside of performing, educating, and composing music. For me, it showed me the world of radio. Pursuing a degree in music performance at the University of Delaware, I felt that I had to expose myself to different performance environments. That was when I found UD’s radio station, WVUD. While student-led, with three full-time staff members, it had both student and community-run shows. I found it interesting and asked to be trained, and afterwards, I started hosting a musical theater show on their student station, The Basement. Called “Broadway Bits” , I would create a playlist to play over the air while I would discuss news on Broadway, provide a fun fact I researched, and list out a show of the week. Being live, people could find it on the website or hear it in the student centers. I soon grew to love doing the show, not only feeling energized, but finding a new way to convey music and what it meant to me. Radio not only opened doors in my music education, but music became a stepping stone for advocating what I wanted in radio and how I would manage my time between my extracurriculars. I grew the courage to use music as a bridge to connect to other passions that I would never expect to endeavor in. Now, I’ve worked as a sound designer for several theatre productions at UD and I still work with WVUD in their PR and production teams, and have returned to my roots recording classical music for the “Fine Tuning” show on Tuesdays. My own show, “Broadway Bits” is on the actual FM station! Through music, I found that I have grown in the expertise of the radio world, and feel different than the shy, reserved girl who didn’t know what to do with a music degree. And it all stemmed from a poster that defined my track not just as a musician, but as a multi-talented artist. I want to help give a voice of passion, hope, and optimism to people, from performing as a musician, writing for ensembles, or offering someone a light in their dark day over the air. I plan to show that a low-income girl, once without proper motor skills for a portion of her life, can make an insightful impact in a field that cultivates inspiring figures and motivations to succeed every day. I feel compelled to share the gift of music I inherited, with the emotions and drive it has given me, to everyone I meet: my friends, my professional acquaintances, even my enemies. Hopefully, they can see the words I could never say, the meanings I could never divulge, and the message I could convey more than through the words: "Music is what I am."

In 8th grade, my mom and I attended the Project 440 College Fair for Musicians at the Kimmel Center. One table that caught my eye was the USC Thorton School of Music from Los Angeles; they had this huge poster that, on one side, had an alphabetical list of various music careers and a rainbow-colored, categorical web that connected them all on the other. The careers ranged from an orchestral musician, a sound engineer, a piano technician, and even a sound engineer. I was so engaged that I accidentally took two posters. That poster, which I still have, showed that music can be a catapult to success in many walks of life. Music has always been my safe space, even before I could properly talk or walk. Being diagnosed with autism at a very early age, and without a proper way to communicate or express myself (other than crying), I found solace in music. In elementary school, I occasionally watched the older students play in the instrumental music room as I walked down the hallway. Of course, I felt embarrassed when they and the teacher would stare back at me, smiling. This all culminated in watching the spring concerts, where I sat with my class in the school gym, looking at the same students I’d watched, thinking, “I want to be up there playing with them!” Initially choosing the viola, I switched to the violin due to size. It was a match made in heaven, though it took a bit to adjust to practicing. I slowly found my purpose in music, and with that came a love for performing—to express and communicate my passion and positivity in ways that words failed. This purpose has continued throughout my life, from playing in youth orchestras in middle school to attending summer camps and playing side-by-side with professional orchestras in high school. Finally, when I reached college, majoring in violin performance and minoring in music composition at the University of Delaware, I wanted to help create a community that welcomed me in with the passion for expression and communication—the joy, sadness, and satisfaction music brought me, which I could never truly understand when I was younger. In my music-making, I want to help give passion, hope, and perseverance, especially to people like me in low-income and underrepresented communities. From helping teach young kids to composing for all types of ensembles, I plan to show that music helped someone rise from the ashes of financial strain and systemic struggles. I want to demonstrate that music, a field that cultivates inspiring figures and motivations every day, made an insightful impact for a low-income, disabled Black girl who never had proper motor skills for a portion of her life. I feel compelled to share the gift music brought me: the emotions and drive it has given me to continue into college, the friends, teachers, professional connections, and even the enemies I made, so the words I could never say expressed in my violin, and finally the meanings and growth that my elementary school self could only divulge as, "I want to be up there with them too!"

Music has always been my safe space as a Black girl, even before I could properly talk or walk. I was diagnosed with autism at a very early age, and without a proper way to communicate or express myself (other than crying), I found solace in music. In elementary school, I occasionally watched the older students play in the instrumental music room as I walked down the hallway. Of course, I felt embarrassed when they and the teacher would stare back at me, smiling. This all culminated in watching the spring concerts, where I sat with my class in the school gym, looking at the same students I’d watched, thinking to myself, “I want to be up there playing with them!” I initially chose the viola but found it too big, so I switched to the violin. It was a match made in heaven, though it took a bit to adjust to practicing. I slowly found my purpose in music, and with that came a love for performing—to express and communicate my passion and positivity in ways that words failed. This purpose has continued throughout my life, from playing in youth orchestras in middle school to attending summer camps and playing side-by-side with professional orchestras in high school. Finally, when I reached college, majoring in violin performance and minoring in music composition, I wanted to help create a community that shared the passion for expression and communication—the joy, sadness, and satisfaction music brought me, which I could never capture when I was younger. I want to help give a voice of passion, hope, and optimism to low-income and underrepresented communities, serving as a role model and direct influence in education and composition. From performing as a soloist, orchestral, or chamber musician to writing for ensembles, I plan to show that one can rise from the ashes of financial strain and systemic struggles. I want to demonstrate that a low-income Black girl, once without proper motor skills for a portion of her life, can make an insightful impact in a field that cultivates inspiring figures and motivations to succeed every day. I feel compelled to share the gift of music, along with the emotions and drive it has given me, with my friends and even my enemies, so they can see the words I could never say, the meanings I could never divulge, and the message I could never convey.

Music has always been my safe space as a Black girl, even before I could properly talk or walk. I was diagnosed with autism at a very early age, and without a proper way to communicate or express myself (other than crying), I found solace in music. In elementary school, I occasionally watched the older students play in the instrumental music room as I walked down the hallway. Of course, I felt embarrassed when they and the teacher would stare back at me, smiling. This all culminated in watching the spring concerts, where I sat with my class in the school gym, looking at the same students I’d watched, thinking to myself, “I want to be up there playing with them!” I initially chose the viola but found it too big, so I switched to the violin. It was a match made in heaven, though it took a bit to adjust to practicing. I slowly found my purpose in music, and with that came a love for performing—to express and communicate my passion and positivity in ways that words failed. This purpose has continued throughout my life, from playing in youth orchestras in middle school to attending summer camps and playing side-by-side with professional orchestras in high school. Finally, when I reached college, majoring in violin performance and minoring in music composition, I wanted to help create a community that shared the passion for expression and communication—the joy, sadness, and satisfaction music brought me, which I could never capture when I was younger. After I complete my degree, I want to help give a voice of passion, hope, and optimism to low-income and underrepresented communities, serving as a role model and a direct influence in education and composition. Whether this includes performing as a soloist, orchestral or chamber musician, or even writing for professional or school ensembles, I plan to show that one can rise from the ashes of financial strain and systemic struggles. I want to demonstrate that a low-income Black girl, once without access to speech or proper motor skills for a portion of her life, can make an insightful impact in a field that encourages and cultivates inspiring figures and motivations to succeed every day. I feel compelled to share the gift of music, along with the emotions and drive it has given me, with my friends and even my enemies, so they can see the words I could never say, the meanings I could never divulge, and the message I could never convey.