Growing up in an Asian American household, mental health wasn’t something we ever talked about. When I struggled with focus, anxiety, and low self-esteem, I was told I was just being lazy or dramatic. For years, I believed it. I pushed myself harder, blamed myself when I couldn’t keep up, and isolated myself out of shame. I watched my classmates accomplish tasks with ease while I spent double the time fighting to stay on track. It felt like something was inherently wrong with me, and I constantly wondered why I couldn’t be “normal.” It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 20 that everything started to make sense. That moment changed my life—it gave me clarity, language, and a path forward. With treatment and support, I finally began to excel academically. But what struck me the most was this: if I had been diagnosed earlier, I could have saved myself years of self-doubt and emotional distress. That realization ignited my passion for mental health and disability advocacy—particularly within the Asian American community, where stigma and silence often keep young people from getting the help they need. Mental health is widely disregarded in our community, despite its enormous impact. Many Asian parents and elders continue to believe that conditions like depression, anxiety, or ADHD are simply excuses for laziness or attention-seeking behavior. This mindset not only invalidates the lived experiences of countless teens—it also prevents them from seeking care. I know this firsthand. Advocacy is essential to changing this narrative. Through education and open dialogue, we can reduce stigma, promote early intervention, and create a culture where young Asian Americans feel safe being honest about what they’re going through. This scholarship will help me achieve my personal, academic, and advocacy goals by lifting the financial burden of attending Saint Louis University. With fewer financial pressures, I can focus fully on my studies and continue building a future rooted in service. I am currently majoring in Psychology and hope to become an Industrial-Organizational Psychologist. I want to help improve workplace mental health and advocate for more inclusive, supportive environments—especially for neurodivergent individuals and employees of color. Work takes up a large part of our lives, and I believe everyone deserves to feel valued, respected, and mentally well in their professional lives. Outside the classroom, I’ve taken an active role in creating community and advocating for Asian American voices. I serve as the dance coordinator for SLU’s K-pop team, where I help cultivate an empowering space for expression and belonging. I am also deeply involved in the Asian American Association and Filipino Student Association, using these platforms to promote cultural awareness, unity, and dialogue about the unique challenges our communities face—including mental health stigma. This scholarship would not only support my education—it would amplify my ability to advocate, lead, and give back. I want to be part of the generation that ends the silence around mental health in Asian American households. Through awareness, compassion, and action, I believe we can break the cycle—and create a future where no one feels ashamed for needing help.

Growing up, I always knew something was different about me. Tasks that seemed easy for others took me twice as long. While my classmates could take notes in 30 minutes, it took me two hours. They wrote in-class essays with ease, while I needed extensions—ones that made me feel ashamed. I couldn’t focus, I was constantly distracted, and I spent hours pacing around my room to manage the anxiety bubbling inside me. I tried everything to fix it: powering off my phone, starting homework immediately, even tying my feet to my chair. But no matter what I did, I still struggled. The repeated failures made me feel broken. I thought, What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be like everyone else? Over time, this self-doubt and frustration led to depression. It consumed my energy and affected every area of my life—socially, academically, and emotionally. At 20, I was finally diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder—ADHD. That moment changed everything. With support, treatment, and new tools, I performed better than ever before. But more importantly, I finally understood that my past struggles weren’t my fault—my brain simply worked differently. It was like someone handed me the missing piece of a puzzle I’d been trying to solve my whole life. That was when I realized something deeper: it wasn’t just that I had ADHD—it was that it took so long to find out. The problem I’m obsessed with solving is the delayed and unequal diagnosis of ADHD in women and girls. Most ADHD research is based on symptoms typically seen in boys, meaning girls often go undiagnosed for years. Many women aren’t diagnosed until their 30s or 40s, after decades of misunderstanding themselves and being misunderstood by others. I realized how urgent this problem was when I thought about how different my childhood—and mental health—could have been if I’d known sooner. That reflection turned into a mission: I want to help ensure that no girl grows up feeling broken for something that was simply misunderstood. I’m incredibly grateful that I had the resources and support to be diagnosed early in adulthood. But I know not every woman has that same opportunity. That’s why I plan to start a nonprofit that raises awareness about how ADHD presents in women and girls. I want to educate families, teachers, and communities so they can recognize the signs early. I also hope to host fundraisers to support research specifically on ADHD in women—because the more we understand, the better we can support future generations. This is more than a passion. It’s personal. It's a problem I’ve lived—and one I’m determined to help solve.