l am Qualeena Johnson, a first-generation college student pursuing a degree in forensic psychology at Southern New Hampshire University. My passion for human health and wellness stems from my lived experiences with neglect, abuse, and trauma. Growing up, I learned firsthand how deeply mental health impacts every aspect of life, and I often felt unseen and unheard. Those early experiences inspired me to dedicate my future to ensuring that no one else feels invisible in their pain. As a single mother, balancing academics, work, and parenting has taught me resilience and empathy. These values shape everything I do—whether assisting with trauma-informed coaching at Sacred Path Services or mentoring peers and youth in my community. My commitment is to create safe spaces where healing is accessible to all, regardless of background or income. What drives me is the belief that health is not just physical—it is emotional, mental, and spiritual. My journey has made me passionate about breaking cycles of trauma and advocating for wellness in underserved communities. Every challenge I’ve faced has strengthened my conviction to bring compassion, understanding, and justice to the field of mental health. For me, empathy is not simply the ability to understand another person’s feelings—it is the willingness to step into their world, validate their struggles, and respond with compassion and action. Empathy is what transforms healthcare from a service into a relationship. It is the foundation of trust, especially for patients and communities who have often been marginalized or dismissed by the very systems meant to serve them. In my chosen field of forensic psychology, empathy is more than a quality; it is a necessity. Many of the individuals I will encounter will be survivors of trauma, neglect, or abuse. Without empathy, their experiences risk being reduced to statistics, case files, or symptoms. With empathy, they become human beings deserving of healing and dignity. My lived experience of neglect and abuse has given me a deep understanding of what it feels like to go unheard, and that perspective will shape the way I approach every client. To me, working through a human-centered lens means seeing the whole person, not just their diagnosis or circumstances. It means asking: What happened to you? instead of What’s wrong with you? It means creating spaces where people feel safe enough to tell their stories, and ensuring that their voices guide the care they receive. I will ensure my work remains human-centered by practicing trauma-informed care, advocating for accessible resources, and incorporating cultural competency into my approach. Too often, communities of color and low-income families lack adequate mental health support. By tailoring care to reflect diverse cultural values and addressing systemic barriers, I can help close the gap between healthcare access and healthcare equity. Empathy also requires collaboration. Healing does not happen in isolation—it happens in community. As a mental health provider, I plan to partner with educators, social workers, and community leaders to build networks of support that extend beyond therapy sessions. Whether it is creating school-based interventions for at-risk youth or advocating for mental health resources in underserved neighborhoods, I will ensure my work is guided by both professional skill and human compassion. Ultimately, empathy allows us to see not just the pain of others, but their potential. It calls us to act not out of pity, but out of respect for their humanity. My goal is to transform my own experiences of survival into a path of advocacy and healing for others. By combining academic knowledge with empathy and lived understanding, I aim to help individuals reclaim their stories, rebuild their strength, and know that they are not alone. Healthcare is not only about extending life—it is about improving the quality of life. With empathy at the center of my work, I will dedicate myself to ensuring that every person I serve feels seen, valued, and supported on their journey to healing.

I did not choose psychology and counseling by accident—this career chose me long before I had the words to name it. I grew up in an environment where neglect, abuse, and silence shaped much of my childhood. My mother was absent, and although my father raised me with love, I was often bullied, overlooked, and left to feel like the outcast. I know what it is like to suffer in silence, to question your worth, and to wish someone would simply notice your pain. Those experiences planted the seed that one day, I would be that person for someone else. Mental health challenges are not abstract for me; they are personal. I have faced anxiety, depression, and the heavy weight of feeling counted out. At times, even pursuing my education felt impossible, as I juggled motherhood, financial struggles, and the invisible scars of trauma. Yet, my lived experiences became my motivation instead of my limitation. They pushed me toward forensic psychology, where I could combine my passion for understanding human behavior with my calling to advocate for those whose voices have been silenced. My goal is to specialize in trauma-informed care and create programs that address the root causes of pain rather than punishing its symptoms. Too many children and young adults who experience abuse or neglect end up funneled into systems of discipline rather than systems of healing. I want to change that narrative. By working at the intersection of psychology and justice, I envision creating pathways for early intervention, therapy, and community-based resources that prevent cycles of trauma from repeating generation after generation. What sets me apart is not just my academic achievement as a first-generation student with a 3.6 GPA, but the perspective I bring. I am not pursuing this field only from textbooks—I carry lived experience that cannot be taught in a classroom. I know how it feels to cry out for help and receive none. I know how it feels to be judged for scars that were never your fault. And because I know, I bring empathy, cultural competency, and a determination that no client should ever feel unseen under my care. My experience in the mental health field has already begun. Through my work with Sacred Path Services, I assisted in designing and delivering an 8-part coaching program called “TRΔUMA,” which guides participants through the process of naming, confronting, and healing from shame and grief. This role taught me how powerful safe spaces can be when people finally feel free to share their stories. It also confirmed for me that this is my life’s work: helping people transform their pain into purpose. Looking forward, I want to obtain my degree in forensic psychology and then pursue licensure that allows me to practice clinically. My ultimate dream is to open a trauma center in underserved communities—places where therapy is often stigmatized or out of reach due to cost. I want to make healing accessible to the people who need it most, because healing should never depend on privilege. For me, this career is not just a profession; it is a calling born from survival. I want to turn the pain of my past into hope for someone else’s future. By doing so, I hope to carry Ethan To’s legacy forward—reminding others that even in the darkest moments, help, healing, and hope are possible.

For me, mental health is not an academic interest—it is my lived reality. I grew up in an environment defined by neglect, verbal abuse, and physical abuse. My mother was absent, and though my father stepped in to raise me, I often felt like the forgotten child—the outcast within my own family. I carried the invisible wounds of being bullied, silenced, and counted out. Those early experiences of trauma could have broken me. Instead, they ignited a fire in me to become the very advocate I once needed. That is why I chose forensic psychology as my field of study. I want to bring trauma-informed, culturally competent care to those who have been overlooked, silenced, or left behind. I know firsthand how damaging it is when children don’t have someone to speak for them or guide them through pain. My lived experiences have taught me that healing is not a privilege—it is a birthright. As a therapist, I hope to become the kind of provider who doesn’t just listen, but who understands—because I’ve walked through the same fire myself. If I could change one thing about the current mental healthcare system, it would be access. Too often, therapy is only available to those with financial privilege, while BIPOC and underserved communities are left to suffer in silence. Beyond affordability, representation itself is a barrier—how can clients feel seen when they rarely find therapists who look like them or share their lived experiences? I want to help break those barriers by creating affordable, community-based programs rooted in cultural understanding. Therapy should not feel like stepping into a foreign world; it should feel like coming home to safety. My dream is to develop trauma-informed resources in schools, court systems, and neighborhoods so that care reaches children and families where they are, not only where the system expects them to be. Teletherapy is one of the most powerful tools we have for expanding access, and its benefits are clear: it eliminates geography, provides privacy, and offers flexibility for busy parents, students, and working-class families. For me as a single mother, I know how life-changing it is to have the option to access help from the safety of your home. But teletherapy also has its challenges. Digital divides, lack of privacy in multi-family households, and stigma in certain cultural communities can prevent people from fully engaging with it. To truly innovate, we must build teletherapy platforms that are not only convenient but also inclusive—by offering multilingual providers, culturally specific approaches, and outreach efforts that destigmatize therapy in diverse communities. Innovation must serve everyone, not just those who already have access. What sets me apart is that this work is not just a profession for me—it is personal. I was once the child no one believed, the student who hid her pain, the young woman trying to make sense of scars no one could see. Today, I stand as a first-generation student, a single mother, and a future therapist determined to transform those wounds into wisdom. My experiences have given me a vision: to ensure no child grows up believing they are invisible, no parent feels too ashamed to seek help, and no community is left out of the conversation on mental health. I don’t just want to enter the mental health field—I want to help redefine it. By lifting up voices like mine, this scholarship wouldn’t just be investing in my education; it would be investing in a more inclusive, compassionate, and accessible future for mental health care.

I know the consequences of childhood trauma because I lived them. My mother neglected me, and I was bullied and counted out by my family. I grew up as the outcast, carrying wounds from verbal abuse that tore at my spirit and physical abuse that left me questioning my worth. While my mom failed me, my dad stepped in to raise me and give me the stability I desperately needed. Even with his love, the scars of neglect and abuse shaped my life—but they also gave me a mission. Early childhood trauma leaves scars that don’t always show on the outside. It can lead to depression, anxiety, low self-esteem, and difficulty forming healthy relationships. Children who experience neglect or abuse often grow up battling trust issues, anger, or feelings of unworthiness that follow them into adulthood. These effects ripple through their lives, affecting education, careers, and even the way they parent the next generation. Without healing, trauma becomes a cycle that repeats itself. I refuse to let that cycle continue. That is why I chose to pursue a degree in forensic psychology. I want to be a voice for children who are silenced by fear, shame, or lack of support. My goal is to work in trauma-informed care—creating programs and interventions that don’t just punish the symptoms of trauma but address the root causes. I believe every child deserves someone who sees them, believes them, and advocates for them, even when their own families have failed to do so. My personal experiences fuel my passion to fight for others. I know what it feels like to cry out for help and be ignored. I know what it feels like to be dismissed and underestimated. That pain taught me empathy, resilience, and determination. While my dad’s love gave me strength, my struggles gave me purpose. I want to use my voice, my education, and my platform to shine a light on the children who are slipping through the cracks—because I once was one of them. Through my career, I plan to advocate for early intervention programs, push for accessible mental health resources, and educate communities about the impact of trauma. More than anything, I plan to be the advocate I never had. Children need to know that their pain is real, their voice matters, and healing is possible. I may have been the victim once, but I choose to turn my survival into purpose. My mission is to help others who fall victim, so that no child grows up believing that they are alone in their suffering.

College is not just about academics—it is a test of endurance, resilience, and identity. As a first-generation student and single mother, I have experienced firsthand how mental health challenges can shape not only how we survive, but how we rise. My journey has been marked by struggles with anxiety and the weight of balancing my education, motherhood, and financial responsibilities. At the same time, I have also supported loved ones who face mental health battles of their own. These experiences taught me that mental health is not a weakness—it is a reality that requires compassion, strength, and courage to face. Living with and around mental health struggles has changed my beliefs in profound ways. I learned early that success is not about perfection, but about persistence. I learned that silence around mental health creates cycles of shame, and that breaking that silence can save lives. Most importantly, I came to believe that our most painful experiences can become the foundation of our greatest purpose. These challenges have shaped my relationships, too. They taught me patience, empathy, and the importance of seeing beyond appearances. Many people carry invisible burdens, and I now approach others with an open heart, knowing that kindness can make a difference someone never forgets. As a mother, these lessons guide me in raising my children to not only chase success but to value compassion, resilience, and community. My career aspirations grew directly out of these experiences. I am pursuing a degree in forensic psychology because I want to create change at the intersection of mental health and justice. Too many people in marginalized communities are punished for behaviors rooted in trauma or untreated mental illness rather than being given the support they need to heal. My dream is to create trauma-informed programs and advocate for accessible mental health resources in underserved communities. By doing so, I hope to help break generational cycles of poverty, incarceration, and silence around mental health. What makes me stand out is not that I faced challenges, but that I refused to let them define me. Instead, I chose to transform them into fuel for a future where my children—and the next generation of BIPOC students—see that it is possible to rise above barriers. Mental health struggles shaped my journey, but they did not end it. They gave me my voice, my purpose, and my determination to leave the world better than I found it.

My name is Leena Johnson, and I am a proud multiracial woman from Pontiac, Michigan, pursuing my degree in forensic psychology at Southern New Hampshire University. I chose this field because I grew up surrounded by stories that deserved to be heard—stories of trauma, resilience, and survival within BIPOC communities. Too often, those stories are overlooked or misunderstood in the justice system. I want to change that. My passion is to uncover truth, advocate for healing, and build bridges between psychology and justice so that those most impacted by inequality have someone on their side. The road to higher education has not been smooth. I am a single mother of three, raising a family while balancing classes, work, and life’s responsibilities. There were nights when I studied with one hand and rocked a baby to sleep with the other. Financial challenges often made me question if pursuing my dream was realistic. Yet, every obstacle reminded me of why I must keep going—not just for myself, but for my children and the generations after us. They deserve to grow up seeing that despite systemic barriers, it is possible to rise. Representation in psychology and forensic fields is still painfully scarce. For example, less than 4% of psychologists in the United States are Black. In many of my classrooms, I am one of the only BIPOC students. That reality does not intimidate me—it fuels me. When we are “the only one in the room,” we carry not just our own story, but the stories of our communities, our ancestors, and the people who never got the chance to step into those spaces. I want to show young BIPOC students that they belong in these fields, too, and that their voices matter. My vision extends beyond my own career. I plan to build trauma-informed programs that serve underserved communities, especially at-risk youth who are often funneled into the justice system rather than given resources for healing. I also want to create mentorship opportunities, workshops, and pathways for other students of color to enter psychology, medicine, business, and STEM fields. When we pour into the next generation, we multiply representation and begin to close the racial wealth and opportunity gaps that have persisted for too long. This scholarship is not just financial support—it is an investment in a ripple effect. By supporting me, you are helping open doors for countless others who will follow. I don’t just want to succeed; I want to make space, hold it open, and pull others through with me. That is how I will make an impact—not only by being in the field, but by changing what the field looks like for those who come after me.

One of the greatest problems I have overcome in my life is learning how to rise from the pain of neglect and step into the role of both mother and provider for my three children. I was raised by my father after my mother was absent, and that experience shaped me more than I realized at the time. It taught me what it feels like to grow up without consistent love, and it gave me the determination to ensure that my children never feel that emptiness. Becoming a single mother myself came with endless obstacles—financial instability, limited time, and the heavy responsibility of raising three children on my own while pursuing my education. There were many moments when the struggle felt impossible. Bills piled up faster than income. Childcare was unreliable. Long nights of exhaustion left me questioning how I could keep going. Yet I never allowed myself to quit. I wanted my children to see resilience in action, to know that even in the face of hardship, we can still chase our dreams. Returning to college to study forensic psychology was my way of proving to them—and to myself—that the past does not have to define the future. This scholarship would make an extraordinary difference in my journey. It would not only ease the financial stress that weighs on me daily but also allow me to devote more of my focus to my studies and my children. Most importantly, it would help me step into my larger purpose: giving back to the community. With my degree, I plan to work with families and individuals impacted by trauma, crime, and neglect. My goal is to become a voice for the voiceless, creating pathways toward healing and justice. I believe that when single mothers like me succeed, it is not only our families who benefit—it is the entire community that grows stronger. Stamp collecting, though simple on the surface, has given me powerful lessons that continue to influence my life. Each stamp is small, yet it carries a story, a history, and a connection that travels across distance and time. As I built my collection, I realized that life is very much the same: it is made up of small, significant moments that together create a legacy. Each challenge I’ve faced as a single mother—whether financial hardship, sleepless nights, or personal sacrifice—is like a stamp in my life’s collection. Alone, they may feel overwhelming, but when I look at them as a whole, they tell a story of resilience, growth, and determination. Stamp collecting has also taught me patience and perspective. Just as collectors appreciate the detail and uniqueness of every stamp, I have learned to appreciate the uniqueness of every struggle and every triumph. These lessons inspire me as a parent, as a student, and as a future professional. They remind me that nothing is wasted—not the pain, not the struggle, not the setbacks. Each piece adds value to the bigger picture. With this scholarship, I can continue building that picture. It will not just impact my life but also the lives of my three children and the countless people I plan to help in my career. My life, like my collection, is proof that even small, fragile pieces can come together to tell a powerful story of hope, resilience, and transformation.

My name is Qualeena Johnson, and I am a single mother of three pursuing my degree in forensic psychology at Southern New Hampshire University. Education, for me, is more than a personal goal—it is a lifeline to a better future. My studies in forensic psychology allow me to explore human behavior, justice, and healing, while also preparing me for a career that can bring stability to my family and positive change to my community. For someone like me, this degree is not just about earning a title, but about breaking cycles, rewriting my story, and leaving behind a legacy of strength for my children. The journey to higher education as a single mother has been anything but easy. I was raised in a single-parent household myself, by my father, after experiencing neglect from my mother. That experience taught me early what it means to live without consistent support, and it shaped my values as both a woman and a mother. I vowed that my children would never feel the absence or neglect that I experienced, even if it meant carrying the full weight of parenthood on my shoulders. Balancing school and parenthood has come with obstacles that test me daily. Financial hardship is constant—I am solely responsible for rent, groceries, childcare, and all school-related expenses. There have been times when I wondered how I could possibly manage both a household and a degree. Yet every sacrifice I make, every bill I juggle, and every long night I stay up studying is fueled by my determination to give my children a better life. Time has also been one of my greatest challenges. Raising three children while attending college requires endless discipline and sacrifice. There are nights when I stay up writing papers after putting my children to bed, or mornings when I wake early to study before the day begins. At times, I feel exhausted, but my children remind me why I continue. They are watching me persevere. They are learning from my example that no matter how difficult life becomes, education can transform circumstances. These struggles have not broken me—they have defined me. They have given me resilience, sharpened my focus, and deepened my values. I value perseverance, stability, and education because I know how fragile life can feel without them. I carry those values into my studies, determined to complete my degree and build a career where I can both support my family and give back to others who have faced hardship. My goal after graduation is to work in forensic psychology to help individuals and families impacted by trauma, crime, or neglect. I want to create pathways to healing and justice, and to use my career to uplift others the way I am striving to uplift my own children. Ultimately, I want my children to see that their mother turned pain into purpose and challenges into opportunities. Receiving this scholarship would be life-changing. It would relieve the financial burden that weighs on me daily, allowing me to focus more on my studies and less on survival. It would mean stability for my family, hope for my children, and an open door toward completing my education without interruption. Most of all, it would be an investment in three young lives who are learning every day that their mother is determined to rise, no matter the obstacles.

My name is Qualeena Johnson, and I am a proud single mother of three children. My journey has been filled with challenges, but also with resilience and determination to build a better future for myself and my family. I was raised in a single-parent household by my father after experiencing neglect from my mother. Growing up without a nurturing mother figure instilled in me a deep understanding of what it means to feel overlooked and unsupported, and it has shaped my determination to be present, loving, and consistent for my own children in every way I can. Becoming a single mother came with its own set of struggles. Financial hardship is a daily reality. With only one income, I have had to make impossible choices between bills, food, childcare, and school expenses. While other students may have the flexibility to focus entirely on their studies, I balance the weight of parenthood with the demands of higher education. Every dollar I earn is stretched to cover household expenses, and every hour of my time is carefully divided between my role as a parent, a provider, and a student. There are many nights when exhaustion feels overwhelming, yet I know I cannot give up because my children are depending on me to succeed. Childcare has also been one of the biggest barriers. Without reliable help, there are times when I have had to bring my children along to study sessions or stay up into the early hours of the morning to complete assignments after they have gone to sleep. These sacrifices often leave me feeling drained, but they also remind me of my strength and my “why.” I am pursuing my degree not just for myself, but to model resilience, hard work, and perseverance for my children. These experiences have shaped my goals and values in profound ways. I value stability, education, and opportunity because I know what it feels like to live without them. I am currently pursuing my degree in forensic psychology because I want to create a career that not only provides financial stability, but also allows me to give back to others. My studies fuel my vision of breaking cycles of neglect and disadvantage by becoming an advocate for justice, healing, and change. I want my children to see that no matter where you start, your circumstances do not define your future. Receiving this scholarship would be life-changing. It would relieve some of the crushing financial pressure and allow me to dedicate more focus and energy to my studies and my children, instead of constantly worrying about how to make ends meet. It would mean having the chance to breathe, to balance, and to move forward with a little less weight on my shoulders. Most importantly, it would be an investment not just in me, but in my three children, who are watching me fight every day to create a better life for them. I believe that education is the key to rewriting my story and building a legacy of strength, success, and hope for my family. With this scholarship, I will be able to continue pursuing my dreams and show my children that even the hardest paths can lead to beautiful destinations.

When people hear “mast cell disease,” they usually think only of the symptoms and the limitations it places on life. What many don’t see is how it reshapes not just the body, but also family, friendships, and future plans. Living with mast cell disease has certainly brought challenges into my life, but it has also revealed unexpected blessings and people I might never have encountered otherwise. Those blessings are what I carry with me as motivation to continue my education and pursue my dreams. One of the greatest challenges of mast cell disease is the unpredictability. Plans can fall apart because of a flare-up. Friends sometimes pull away because they don’t know how to respond to special needs. Families can feel financial strain because medical care is expensive, and sometimes education takes a back seat to survival. At times, this reality has felt isolating. I have known the disappointment of having to say “no” to things other students take for granted. Yet even in the middle of these struggles, God has opened doors and brought people into my life who inspire me to keep moving forward. What I am most grateful for is the deeper compassion I now carry because of this journey. Without the mast cell challenges, I might not have developed the same sensitivity to others who live with invisible illnesses or financial burdens. I see classmates, coworkers, or strangers differently now. I no longer assume everyone has the same opportunities or the same health. This compassion has already influenced my career goals — I want to pursue [insert your field, e.g., psychology, healthcare, education, etc.] so that I can advocate for people who are overlooked. My challenges gave me the lens to see them. I am also deeply grateful for the resilience this condition has built in me. Every flare, every financial roadblock, every lost friendship has taught me to adapt, stand up again, and keep going. Resilience is not something you can learn from a book; it comes from experience. While I would never wish the pain of mast cell disease on anyone, I can say it has given me a strength I may not have discovered otherwise. That strength carries into my academics, where I push myself harder, and into my future, where I plan to use my story as a platform for change. Another blessing I have found in the midst of hardship is community. I have met people I never would have crossed paths with — other families, advocates, and students living with chronic illnesses. These connections remind me I am not alone. They encourage me on the days when I feel left behind. Without mast cell disease, I would never have known the power of this kind of support network, and for that, I am grateful. Ultimately, mast cell disease has taught me to see gratitude in the middle of struggle. I am grateful for the compassion, resilience, and community it has brought into my life. These are qualities that will stay with me long after the symptoms fade into the background. They are the foundation on which I will build my education and my career. This scholarship would not just ease the financial strain my family faces because of medical costs; it would also represent another door opened in the face of a condition that tries to close so many. I want to prove that mast cell disease cannot keep me from achieving my dreams — in fact, it has shaped me into someone who can achieve them with even greater purpose.

From as far back as I can remember, I have lived with the weight of anxiety and the shadow of mental health struggles. My journey has not been easy, but it has taught me resilience, self-advocacy, and the importance of hope. I believe these lessons connect me deeply to Ella’s story. Like Ella, I know what it means to fight battles that are not always visible to the outside world, and I carry the determination to keep moving forward no matter the obstacles. Mental health runs deeply in my family. My mother and her father were both diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and their struggles shaped much of my childhood. My father became my primary caregiver after my mother neglected me, and while I am deeply grateful for his love and dedication, the absence of a nurturing mother left scars. Growing up in a single-parent household, I had to mature quickly, teaching myself to process emotions and manage responsibilities that often felt overwhelming. Anxiety became a constant companion, and for a long time, I felt trapped inside my own mind. When I finally reached out for help, I realized that strength doesn’t always mean doing everything alone — it can also mean asking for support. Starting therapy was a turning point. Through counseling, I began to understand how trauma had shaped me, and I learned healthier ways to cope with anxiety. Therapy became a safe place where I could unravel generational patterns of mental health struggles and rebuild my self-worth. This decision marked the beginning of my growth, showing me that healing is not linear, but it is possible with persistence and care. Like Ella, I also developed a drive to prove to myself that I could rise above the challenges that life handed me. I threw myself into education, determined to create a brighter future. In the moments where anxiety made me want to withdraw, I pushed myself to engage instead. In the moments where fear of failure crept in, I reminded myself that perseverance is my greatest strength. These lessons have carried me through difficult seasons and have fueled my commitment to my education. Academically, I am focused on completing my degree in forensic psychology. My goal is to use my education to understand the complexities of the human mind and to contribute to conversations about mental health with compassion and insight. I want to advocate for those who feel invisible or misunderstood, because I know what it feels like to carry silent battles. My experiences have given me the empathy to sit with someone in their pain and the determination to guide them toward healing. Personal growth, for me, is not about pretending my struggles never existed. It is about embracing them as part of my story and using them as a source of strength. I have learned that my challenges do not define me — instead, they refine me. The anxiety that once felt like a burden has also made me highly aware, intuitive, and empathetic. The trauma that hurt me has also given me resilience and the ability to support others who are hurting. Like Ella, I want my fight to mean something, not just for myself, but for others who are walking a similar path. My plan for continuing recovery is grounded in consistency and community. I continue to attend therapy sessions regularly, using the tools I’ve learned to manage anxiety in healthy ways. I have also built a support system of family, friends, and mentors who encourage me and hold me accountable when I begin to doubt myself. I practice mindfulness, journaling, and prayer as daily habits to stay grounded. Most importantly, I remind myself that healing is ongoing — it is not a destination but a lifelong process. I know the battles I face will not disappear overnight. Mental health is a journey of ups and downs, and recovery requires constant attention. But I also know that I carry the strength, tools, and support to keep walking forward. I want to honor Ella’s legacy by continuing to fight for my own growth and by using my education to make a difference for others who struggle with mental health or addiction. This scholarship would not only support my academic journey, but it would also serve as a reminder that my story — with all its pain and resilience — has purpose. Ella’s legacy inspires me to keep competing with myself: to keep striving, keep healing, and keep creating a future where my challenges become my victories.

Being a first-generation student means carrying both a weight and a gift. I don’t have a blueprint to follow—no one in my family could explain how to navigate financial aid, apply for college, or balance school with life. Instead, I am the one building the map, step by step. To me, being first-gen means stepping into uncharted territory with courage, faith, and determination. It means rewriting my family’s story so the next generation won’t start where I started—they’ll start where I leave off. The challenges have been real and constant. There were days when financial stress made me wonder if education was even possible. I’ve worked long hours while studying, balancing family responsibilities and school deadlines, sometimes with very little sleep in between. I’ve faced self-doubt, feeling like maybe I wasn’t prepared enough to belong in higher education. But every time I thought about giving up, I remembered who I’m doing this for. My struggles have become my fuel. They’ve taught me resourcefulness, grit, and the power of resilience. They’ve shown me that even without a roadmap, I can still build something lasting. My dream is to complete my degree in forensic psychology and use it to create real impact. I want to work with individuals who have faced trauma, help break cycles of violence, and bring healing into spaces that are often overlooked. Beyond psychology, I’m also an entrepreneur, building businesses in music, fashion, and spiritual coaching. What drives me is not just success—it’s impact. I want my children and my community to see that no matter your starting point, you can rise higher. I want to transform pain into purpose and open doors that seemed locked for people like me. This scholarship would mean more than money—it would mean opportunity and stability. It would allow me to focus on my education without constantly worrying about how to make ends meet. It would give me the freedom to invest my energy fully into my studies, my creative projects, and my long-term vision. With this support, I could move forward with confidence, knowing that the sacrifices I’ve made and the barriers I’ve overcome are leading me toward something greater. I’m not chasing perfection—I’m chasing purpose. I see myself walking across that graduation stage one day, degree in hand, carrying with me every sacrifice, every late night, and every “no” that I turned into a louder “yes.” Being a first-generation student isn’t just my identity—it’s my superpower. With your support, I can turn that power into impact, into legacy, and into a future that proves where you start does not define where you can go.

A Voice for My Niece: Standing Up for a Child Who Couldn’t Speak for Herself The moment my niece stepped through the door after a weekend visit with her father, something was different. Her shoulders were slumped, her eyes downcast, and her once-vibrant spirit was barely present. She clung to me without saying a word, but her silence screamed volumes. That was the day I realized she was suffering—and that I had a choice: to turn a blind eye, or to step in and become the voice she was too afraid to use. At just eight years old, my niece began showing clear signs of trauma—sudden anxiety, withdrawn behavior, trouble sleeping, and fearfulness after returning from visits to her father and his live-in girlfriend. When we gently asked her what was wrong, she would whisper, “I can’t tell. I’ll get in trouble.” That simple sentence shattered my heart and lit a fire within me. I knew something was wrong, and I couldn’t ignore it. From that day on, I made it my mission to protect her. I began carefully documenting everything—her behaviors, changes in mood, and any statements she shared. I connected with her teachers and school counselor, who confirmed they had noticed similar red flags. Most importantly, I worked to rebuild her trust, letting her know every single day that she was safe, she was loved, and she had every right to be heard. Eventually, we had to go to family court for a custody hearing. It was one of the most emotional and difficult days of my life. My niece was terrified to speak up, worried she wouldn’t be believed. I held her hand and promised her: “You don’t have to do this alone. I’ve got you.” I testified on her behalf and shared everything I had gathered. Combined with her counselor’s professional observations, the judge ruled in favor of protecting her—granting full custody to her mother and limiting the father’s visits to supervised time only. She was also given access to counseling services to begin her healing journey. Today, my niece is thriving. She laughs again. She’s sleeping through the night. She’s learning to trust, to speak, and to feel safe in her own skin. And while that chapter of her life was incredibly painful, it reminded me just how powerful advocacy can be—especially for children who haven’t yet found their voice. That experience didn’t just change her life; it changed mine. It solidified my passion for working with children and deepened my desire to serve as a safe, supportive presence in their lives. I’ve realized that protecting children is more than just a role—it’s a calling. This is why I’m pursuing a future in education. Schools are more than just places where students learn math and science; they are environments where emotional safety and personal development are just as important as academics. If I could change one thing in education, it would be to ensure every school has trained child advocates, counselors, and trauma-informed staff. Far too many children suffer silently, and educators are often their first—and sometimes only—line of defense. We need to be equipped not just to teach, but to listen, to observe, and to intervene. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue my path toward becoming an educator and advocate who stands up for children—not only in the classroom, but in every space they exist. I want to be the adult I once needed, and the one my niece found in me: someone who sees the signs, asks the hard questions, and stands firm in love, truth, and protection. In the end, making a difference doesn’t require superpowers—it requires compassion, courage, and commitment. My niece showed me that even one caring adult can change a child’s entire world. And with the help of this scholarship, I intend to be that adult for many more children to come.

From Victim to Visionary Why I Chose Forensic Psychology to Break Cycles of Violence My name is Qualeena Johnson, and I’m currently pursuing my Bachelor’s degree in Forensic Psychology at Southern New Hampshire University.My purpose is personal—I’m a survivor of both childhood neglect and partner violence, and I’ve dedicated my life to helping others break free from the same generational cycles that once held me captive. I was raised by a single father after my mother neglected me. Her absence left a deep emotional scar and a lingering sense of unworthiness. That pain followed me into adulthood, where I entered a relationship that mirrored the instability I grew up with—filled with emotional manipulation, inconsistency, and disrespect. I brought groceries to his door, stood waiting for time he never honored, and held onto hope that wasn’t real. I lost pieces of myself. But I made a decision: my pain would have purpose. Now, as a future forensic psychologist, I plan to work with at-risk children and young adults who’ve been neglected, abused, or forgotten. I want to help them understand their trauma, navigate their emotions, and find their voice before the world tells them who they are not. Education, to me, is more than degrees—it’s healing. It’s prevention. It’s power. When people, especially youth, are taught the signs of abuse, understand the mental patterns that come from trauma, and have a safe space to process, violence can be stopped before it starts. Through my degree, personal story, and spiritual insight as a faith-based advisor, I hope to create a safe haven for young people—where they are heard, guided, and given the emotional tools I never had growing up. I also plan to offer mental health and wellness programs in underserved communities, so no child or teen has to heal alone in silence. I’m applying for Bold.org scholarships because I believe in this mission with my whole heart. Your investment in me is an investment in hundreds of lives I will help restore. I’ve survived what was meant to destroy me—and now I’m becoming the guide I once prayed for. But I refused to let that be the end of my story. I chose to transform the pain into purpose. My mission is to create a future where young people—especially those in underserved communities—have access to trauma-informed care, education, and mentorship. I want to use forensic psychology not only to understand the roots of violence, but to help stop it at its core by reaching children and teens early. Through counseling, programs, and safe spaces, I want to help others recognize unhealthy patterns, understand their worth, and choose healing over silence. Education is my pathway to change, and my degree will equip me with the knowledge to merge science, compassion, and faith to build something lasting. I’m also a spiritual advisor, and I believe in divine purpose—I believe that every struggle I faced prepared me to serve, lead, and uplift others with authenticity. By awarding me a scholarship, you’re not just helping me earn a degree—you’re investing in the future of children who deserve better. I will use this opportunity to create impact, bring healing, and break generational cycles of abuse and neglect. I’m no longer just surviving—I’m leading. And I’m ready to turn my story into someone else’s breakthrough.