For generations, spirituality has been one of the bases of survival, the lifeline that has carried Black people through. This lifeline has comforted generations who, in a world that never meant or was not willing to value their existence or acknowledge their struggles, have been denied solace. These adversities have successfully pushed Black families from reaching out when they need help. So, when a black child is showing signs of a mental health crisis, they pray on it. They are told to ‘toughen up’ because the outside world is much worse than what they are experiencing. Heavy conversations about depression or therapy are mere whispers, spoken only behind closed doors and eventually dismissed because weakness is not an option. The child carries that with them until they have their own children, and the cycle repeats. This explains generational trauma. This cultural silence ignited a curiosity within me. Why is mental health stigmatized within our community, and how can I help it? It ultimately fueled my interest in helping underprivileged, minority children. I was raised by a single mother of three children who strived to make sure her kids became more than her. Because of this, my educational journey has always been a navigation through who I am and who I want to be. I went to private Catholic schools on scholarships and grants provided by different organizations. My sisters and I had to have high GPAs, we had to be the generation that took our family out of the projects. It was, and still is, a pressure that weighs on my back. This pressure eventually turned into stress and anxiety hidden by a facade of perfectionism. Being 'perfect' was not easy. I anxiously chewed on my fingernails as I studied for an Algebra exam as I couldn't quite grasp the concept. I binge ate snacks as a way to cope with my extensive schedule of academics, extracurriculars, and work. The life I was once living wasn't a life at all. It was doing enough to survive the world I was born into. I had many friends, but my friendships were surface level, meaning I felt I had no one to go to. When I explained my predicaments to my family, it was met with a prayer and invalidation of my feelings. I surrounded myself with many people to ignore the anxious thoughts that crept into my head, faking a smile, but ultimately, I felt alone. Soon, I started reaching out to people in my community, friends, and others who I could only hope would listen. I can honestly say that the community of people saved me from a future of self-hatred and suffering. It fueled my interest in helping people through mentorship and counseling. I am particularly interested in studying the effect of community mentorship in reducing mental health disparities among unprivileged and minority youth. Various children in these communities often attend free programs that not only provide academic guidance but also expose them to new experiences that would be out of reach for them. Having personally benefited from these programs, I can speak firsthand about how they shape a child’s confidence, help them develop emotional awareness, and provide a sense of belonging that one may not feel in their household. I will be attending Graduate School to obtain a counseling license (LPC) to serve the community who saved me.

1. Besides from being a pretty cool person, I deserve this because it can be a stepping stool into my long term goals. 2. My career goal is to have a profession in the psychology field and to be rich so I can help my family. 3. A big obstacle I've overcome has to be loving myself. I'm not going to lie. It was hard. I eventually became confident in myself and realized that I'm so cool. I can't believe I let people tell me otherwise.

There has always been a place for me. A place I’ve held dear in my heart. It has always been my grandma’s house, ever since I was younger. I lived in an apartment for the first six years of my life but I never felt connected to it. In fact, when I heard we were moving in with my grandma, I was super happy. It was the place where my sister and I got into the most shenanigans, where my Big Momma made us cocoa in her coffee machine, and where my great aunt Marie let me ride on the back of her electric wheelchair. Over the years, it was my safe haven and somewhere I could let loose at but I will say, the pandemic has changed my mind. School itself kept me busy which helped me forget my sisters had gone to college. Also, my grandma and mom tended to argue a lot over, in my opinion, very dumb things. I started to hate my room’s wall color and it began to feel suffocating just to be in there. I believe my family realized this because, at the beginning of May, they started to renovate it, painting the walls white, changing the carpet, everything you can think of. I was very satisfied with it but something was missing. The noise of my uncles playing the PS4, my sister continuously coming into my room when she needs help to choose a pair of shoes to buy, or my baby cousins running around the place. That’s when I realized that this house, itself, isn’t my place but my family is. Quarantine was something like I never experienced. Although I did wish for a long break from school, I wasn't expecting it to be this long. Surprisingly, it helped me a lot. I've always been self-deprecating. I got so good at joking about it that my friends never knew I was in a battle with my mind, every single day. So when quarantine started, I thought I wouldn't be able to cope and I was right, at first. Stress from school was overbearing and my job had increased the hours. My days were repetitive. Wake up, log onto zoom, go to work, and study or do homework till 1 am. I was most worried that working five days a week around a multitude of people would cause me to bring COVID into my household but I needed the money to support them. Then, I had to deal with being by myself. After crying many times, I made a video diary. Every day, I would talk to my phone about my day and lock it away. I would record myself when I was happy and smiling or when I was doing self-love exercises. To my surprise, it worked. My time management is better, I'm a lot happier, and I've realized that I shouldn't stress over something that I have no control over. I admit, 2020 did start wrong but I don't think I would be who I am now without it. So, thank you 2020.