Generational Curse Opening Scene The movie begins with yelling. Not just one voice—but four. I’m in the living room, standing in front of three adults, and they’re all yelling at me at once. It’s loud, heated, exhausting. I’m yelling too—but not to be disrespectful. I’m yelling just to be heard. The scene is tense. It’s not about dishes or chores or curfew. It’s about something deeper—something no one’s willing to say out loud. It’s about control. It’s about power. It’s about the curse that runs through my family: the belief that children should stay silent, obey, and never question anything. In front of them, I’m not a person with thoughts and feelings. I’m just a “child.” And in their eyes, a child should only listen. But I don’t stay quiet anymore. I’m standing there, heart racing, trying so hard to be the voice of reason. I try to speak calmly at first, but no one listens. They talk over me, like what I have to say doesn’t matter. And when I realize no one’s listening, I break. I yell, not out of disrespect—but out of desperation. I want to be heard. I want to be understood. Just because I’m younger doesn’t mean I’m stupid or less educated. I matter too. That moment is where the story begins. When I was younger, I let adults walk all over me because I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. I stayed quiet because I didn’t think my voice mattered. But over time, that changed. Little by little, I started speaking up. Every day, my voice grows stronger. My confidence builds. I’m not the girl I used to be—and I refuse to be silenced again. In my movie, my mission is clear: I want to leave that house. I want to break the pattern. I want to escape the cycle of yelling, control, and emotional silence. My goal is to move away, go to college, and finally create a name for myself. I want to learn and grow in a place where I’m respected. I want to work with people who listen. Who understand. Who value what I bring to the table. That’s why I’m chasing my dream of becoming a doctor in forensic psychology. I want to help people who didn’t have anyone to listen to them—people who were pushed to the edge and took a different path because of it. I want to be the person who looks deeper, who doesn’t judge, who listens without yelling. I don’t ever want to raise my voice at someone again. That’s not who I am. That’s not who I want to be. I refuse to let the generational curse of anger take over me. By the end of the movie, I want the audience to feel something real. I want them to feel emotional. I want them to feel powerful. I want them to feel hopeful. Because if a quiet girl like me can stand in front of her past and speak her truth—then anyone can. This is just the beginning of my story. And I’m finally ready to be the one who writes it.

My Life, My Voice, My Future Hello, my name is Ruthe Alius. I’m 18 years old and from Sunrise, Florida. I come from a Haitian background. I’m the quiet type, but I pay attention to everything around me. I care a lot about my future, and I want to be the first successful woman in my family. That dream is what keeps me going, even when things get hard. I want to become a forensic psychologist. I chose this career because I’ve always been curious about people—especially the ones society calls criminals. I don’t believe people just “turn bad.” I think something causes it. I want to figure out what that something is. I want to understand the way they think, and maybe help them understand themselves too. Some people judge and move on. I want to listen, learn, and maybe even make a difference in their lives. One way I plan to make a positive impact is by using psychology to help people face their truth and figure out what led them down the wrong path. I want to work in places like prisons or courts and talk to people others have given up on. Maybe if we understand the root of the problem, we can stop more bad things from happening in the first place. I also hope to work with young people who are at risk, helping them change their path before it’s too late. One of the biggest challenges I’ve had to deal with is my family not letting me grow on my own. They think they’re helping, but sometimes it feels like they’re trying to live my life for me. I’ve had to push back a lot. I’ve had to remind myself that I have the right to make my own choices—even if they don’t like them. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve learned to stand up for what I believe. My father especially is very traditional. He wants the best for me, but his way of showing it can be controlling. I had to learn that just because someone loves you doesn’t mean they always know what’s best for you. I’ve learned how to say “no,” how to speak up, and how to walk my own path—even when it’s scary. I don’t want to live my life by other people’s rules. I want to learn, mess up, and grow on my own. That’s how I’ll become who I’m meant to be. I’ve realized that I can’t wait for approval. If something matters to me, I’m going to go after it—even if it means going against what others expect. I’m still figuring things out, but I’m sure of one thing: this is my life, and I plan to live it with purpose, passion, and power. I want to create a future that reflects who I really am—and I know I’m capable of doing that.

During my years as a high school student, Personal Finance was not introduced until my sophomore year. The teacher I was given wasn’t properly trained to teach Financial literacy, despite it becoming a graduation requirement. I received an A in the class due to my hard work but, the work I received was mostly busy work. I did not recall or retain any information from that class. At home any money I receive usually comes from my family. I’ve never had a job not for lack of trying, but because of difficulties with my father. This has made it extremely hard to learn anything about finances independently. I don’t come from a family with any type of wealth, with an Haitian immigrant father that would rather not have conversations about money at all. I’ve come to realize that I need financial literacy. In order to be able to live sustainably and happily moving forward. Even simple things as to where to set up a bank account, savings etc. My money spending habits are not where they need to be in order for me to live responsibly in the future. I am heavily influenced by the world around me including late stage capitalism. All the fast fashion, Amazon gadgets, new technology. It all puts a very sizable dent in my very small pockets. This is admittedly something I am working on at the moment and I am learning about self control. Which I believe is one of the first steps necessary to becoming financially stable and successful. So, going forward I decided to take my financial literacy into my own hands along with help from everything I learn in Economics . I’m currently trying to learn as much as I can from the people around me. Teachers, guidance counselors and advisors. As well as independent study which I do mostly through books and YouTube videos. I plan using the knowledge I gain to further all my life plans and goals. Budgeting for college, getting my car, my first apartment. Credit cards. On top of this I plan a big helping a lot of the people around with financial literacy, in South Florida especially Broward talking about money is extremely uncommon. Where I’m from where nobody was born in America, or in communities where everyone is poor and making poor financial decisions as well. It’s almost taboo. It’s always I’m broke or everyone is struggling. But no one tells you how to properly do it, how make the money and keep it. How to get out of the hood. I need that, I cannot stay here so this is a desperate need and a chance to live life the way I want to without worries, regrets or debt.

Overcoming the Need to Please My Father The biggest hardship I’ve faced in my life was pleasing my father. He came to America from Haiti when he was 30, so he’s very traditional. My mother passed away when I was really young, and I think that’s part of the reason why he’s always been so protective of me. Protective to the point where it was suffocating. I did my best in school. I would bring home A’s and B’s, but he would always point out the one C I got—which was usually in math. At the time, it made me very emotional. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t be more gentle or kind like other kids’ parents. He was strict, and I was an emotional kid. Imagine the combination. It felt like no matter what I did, it wasn’t enough for him. I tried speaking to him about how I felt, hoping that maybe he would understand where I was coming from. But he was very unreasonable. He thought I was being disrespectful just for expressing my emotions. I realized that voicing your feelings and opinions to traditional Haitian parents never really works out. They see it as rebellion instead of honesty. As much as I tried to be a good kid, it just didn’t seem like it mattered to him. So, I decided to stop trying to win his approval. I dyed my hair and pierced my ears without his permission. He was livid. I definitely got consequences, but at the same time, it was a step closer to freedom. After that, I started doing more things for myself, little by little. And eventually, he just gave up trying to control every part of my life. This experience changed me. It taught me that I can’t always rely on other people—especially not parents—to validate my efforts. I learned that sometimes, when words don’t work, you have to take action instead. I stopped waiting for someone else to tell me I was good enough and started deciding that for myself. Now, when I set goals, I work for them. I don’t ask for permission to chase what I want anymore. I still respect where I come from, but I’m not going to let old-school expectations keep me boxed in. My father made me strong—even if it wasn’t in the softest way. I learned how to stand up for myself. I learned how to push through disappointment. I learned how to claim my own freedom. Overcoming the need to please my father wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. It helped me realize that my life is mine to live. And now, I’m doing exactly that.

The Importance of Mentorship My first mentor was an older man in my club called Mentoring Tomorrow’s Leaders. When I first joined, I didn’t have the best GPA—I had a 2.5 and didn’t feel very focused in school. But with his help, I started improving. He helped me stay on track, encouraged me to do better, and made sure I kept my goals in mind. Because of that guidance, I started becoming more successful. I brought my GPA up to a 3.1 in my junior year, and now as a senior, I have a 3.4. When I improved my grades, he promoted me from mentee to mentor. That was a huge moment for me because it made me feel like all my hard work had been seen. Becoming a mentor meant I got to help a lot of freshmen with their school assignments and their grades. It was a very honest and helpful experience. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did, but it made me feel proud in a way that someone could rely on my help the same way I relied on someone else before. Helping others through mentorship taught me that everybody learns at their own pace. Some things might be easy for one person and harder for another. You can’t treat every person the same when you’re trying to help them succeed. You have to take the time to understand how they learn, what they struggle with, and what kind of support they need. I started to see that being a mentor isn’t about being perfect—it’s about showing up for someone else and being there to guide them. Mentorship has also taught me how important it is to give back. I used to think I had to have everything figured out before I could help someone else, but that’s not true. Sometimes just being there, listening, and sharing what I’ve learned is enough to make a difference. I’ve been in the position where I needed help, so I know how valuable it is when someone takes the time to support you. Looking back, I’m proud of how far I’ve come, and I know that mentorship played a big role in that. I became more confident in school and in myself. I started believing that I could do more, and I did. I want to keep that same energy going forward, especially in college and beyond. If I can continue to help others the way I was helped, then I know I’m doing something right. Mentorship helped me become focused, responsible, and proud of my accomplishments. It showed me the kind of impact one person can have on someone else’s life. And now, I want to be that person for someone else.

To me, empowerment means being strong—not just physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s the kind of strength that doesn’t always roar, but stands firm in the face of pressure. As a woman, I already find myself fighting against the weight of society’s expectations. But being a Black woman? That’s starting from the very bottom. It means I have to work harder, speak clearer, carry myself better, and dress sharper than most—just to be seen. If I don’t, I know the world won’t give me a fair chance in what we call a “man’s world.” I first felt empowered when I entered high school. From kindergarten to second grade, I attended a majority-white Catholic school. I had a good experience and a decent amount of friends. But in third grade, I transferred to an all-Black Catholic school—and I had a rude awakening. I was teased constantly. People called me names, and I couldn’t understand why. I wore the same uniform, the same Mary Jane shoes as the other girls—so what made me different? It was my voice. I was mocked for sounding like a “white girl.” That phrase confused and hurt me, especially because I never saw anything wrong with the way I spoke. But over time, I realized it wasn’t really about my voice—it was about how I didn’t speak in AAVE (African-American Vernacular English). I spoke differently than what they were used to, and because I was one of them, they didn’t understand why. At first, I let that shake my confidence. But when I got to high school—a multiracial environment—my teachers constantly complimented me on how proper and soft-spoken I was. That’s when I started to feel empowered. I stopped apologizing for my difference and started owning it. I realized that being different isn’t a bad thing—sometimes, people just aren’t used to what they don’t understand. That’s okay. Now I use my voice to empower others. I give advice to people who feel insecure like I once did. I never compare because everyone’s struggle is unique, so I listen first. If they ask, I guide. I try to remind others that their differences are not flaws but strengths waiting to be recognized. There’s power in being exactly who you are. Empowerment has changed how I walk through the world—I move with a pep in my step because I know who I am. I speak up when I need to, and I stand tall in rooms where I once would’ve felt small. I make decisions based on what I think, not what others want me to be. That is real empowerment. And it’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.

My academic goal is to improve my GPA and to stay resilient. When I was a child, I always tried my best to get good grades. I remember working hard on my schoolwork and feeling proud to show my report card to my father. But whenever I showed it to him, he would only point out my lowest grade, which was usually a C. He never acknowledged the A’s or B’s I worked hard for. As I got older, that pattern started to affect how I saw myself. I began thinking negative thoughts like, “Whatever I do will not be good enough.” That mindset led me to slack off in school, and my grades became average—even though I knew deep down I could’ve done better. Now, I want to challenge myself again because I know I’m capable of more. I want a successful future and a career that not only makes me proud but also allows me to help others. That’s why I chose to major in Psychology. I want to be the shoulder that people can lean on. I believe that people—especially those who are judged by society, like criminals—need someone to understand them. That’s why I want a job in the forensic psychology field. I want to be part of the solution by understanding why people do what they do and helping them work through it. I want to be a voice for those who don’t know how to explain their pain or trauma. I want to help break the cycle and make people feel like they matter. One way I’ve given back to my community is by participating in my club’s volunteering activities. For a good period of time, I was a part of Mentoring Tomorrow’s Leaders (MTL), where we gave food to the less fortunate, helped organize inside a church, and walked in the MLK parade. These were amazing experiences that I will always remember because they helped shape who I am today. I saw the power of small actions and how even one person showing up can make a difference. It made me want to do more. Giving back to the community has inspired me to think more about others. It reminded me that life isn’t just about your own problems—it’s about how you show up for people who need support. It’s helped me develop more sympathy and made me want to make a real difference, both in my personal life and in the world.

Growing up in a strict, old-school Haitian household, I was taught to listen and obey. In my family, the adults’ voices mattered the most, and mine often felt unheard. That shaped much of my childhood—I had ideas, thoughts, and questions, but I rarely got to express them. School wasn’t any easier. My parents didn’t fully understand the American school system, so I had to figure most things out on my own. In elementary and middle school, I was an honor roll student. But when I entered high school, the challenges grew. The work became harder, and I found myself overwhelmed and frustrated. I pushed myself too hard, always feeling like I wasn’t good enough. Over time, I learned how to balance that pressure by finding peace in calming music and motivational videos. I realized that my drive didn’t just come from wanting good grades—it came from wanting to make my family proud and build a better future. My motivation comes from my parents' sacrifices. My father came to America at 30 years old and works a low-paying job. My mother passed away when I was young. I want to show her, wherever she is, that I’m okay—that I’ve grown into someone strong, determined, and ambitious. I plan to start at a community college and transfer to a university so I can pursue my biggest goal: becoming a forensic psychologist. I want to help people understand themselves the way I wish someone had helped me. I want to be the person others can lean on because I know what it feels like to need that support.