For most of my life, my future was decided for me. As a Jehovah's Witness, I was taught that education was dangerous, that it would pull me away from God and fill my head with ideas that didn't belong there. For years, I believed them. Now I know better. And proving that is one of the driving forces behind everything I do. My biggest goal is to finish my Bachelor's degree in Business Administration, and eventually a Master's degree. Not just for the career opportunities, though those matter. But to say out loud, without apology, that there is nothing wrong with education. On the contrary, it opens your eyes. It gives you wisdom and the capacity to analyze everything around you. It empowers you to make your own decisions. No one can tell you what to do when you already know. That is exactly what the leaders of my religion feared, and exactly why I am going to do it. My smaller goals are just as meaningful. Right now, coming back from a mental health break, my immediate goal is simply to re-enroll and keep moving forward. I want to maintain my 3.8 GPA so I can continue applying for scholarships while I work full-time and support my family. Every class I complete, every semester I finish, is a small victory that adds up to something much bigger. In ten years, I see myself living the life I always wanted. Married, in a home with my cats and a dog, living openly and proudly. But beyond the personal, I see myself in a Human Resources role, transforming workplaces from the inside. Creating environments where there is no discrimination, where people of all backgrounds and abilities belong, and where employees feel genuinely valued. I want to mentor coworkers and people in my community the way someone once believed in me and changed the trajectory of my life. None of this would be possible without my wife, a sociologist who has been my greatest support through every trauma I carried out of the religion. She chose to stay home and be my foundation while I build our future. The life I am working toward is as much for her as it is for me. I also feel a deep obligation to give back to the communities that have been historically underrepresented: LGBTQ+ people, immigrants, and minorities. Not because I have to. Because I know what it feels like to need someone in your corner, and I never want anyone around me to feel alone in that way. My goals are not just professional. They are personal, deeply rooted, and hard-earned. Every single one of them was once forbidden to me. That is exactly why I will achieve them.

Building a more empathetic and understanding global community starts at the most local level possible: the workplace. That is where most people spend the majority of their lives, and yet it is one of the places where people most often feel invisible, undervalued, or like they do not belong. I know this firsthand because I spent most of my life feeling exactly that way. Growing up as a Jehovah's Witness in Colombia, I was never made to feel that who I was had value. My identity, my dreams, and my potential were all secondary to following rules. When I finally broke free and immigrated to the United States, I carried that experience with me, not as a wound, but as a compass. It shaped the kind of leader I became. I believe that empathy is not a soft skill; it is the most powerful leadership tool there is. In every team I have managed, my goal has always been the same: make sure every single person feels seen, respected, and appreciated. Not because it is good for business, though it is. But because it is the right thing to do. Employees make the work happen. Without them, nothing moves. At my current job as Assistant Manager of a linen company, two employees were running an entire department alone during our busiest season. Every day they showed up, worked hard, and never complained. I noticed. I went to HR on their behalf and advocated for a bonus to recognize their effort. They received it. Something as simple as being seen and rewarded changed the energy in that workplace. That is the kind of impact I want to scale. Through my studies in Business Administration and my future career in Human Resources, I want to build workplaces where there is no discrimination, where people of all backgrounds, abilities, and identities belong. Where employers genuinely engage with their employees instead of just managing them. Where a person with a disability walks in and feels as valued as anyone else. I have lived on the outside. I know what it feels like to be excluded, overlooked, and told that you do not belong. That experience did not make me bitter; it made me determined. Every workplace I touch, every team I lead, every policy I influence will carry that determination in it. A more empathetic global community is built one workplace at a time. I intend to build mine.

Education feels like freedom to me because, for most of my life, it was forbidden. Growing up as a Jehovah's Witness in Colombia, I was taught that pursuing a university degree was an act of defiance against God. Religious leaders warned us that higher education would pull us away from our purpose. The message was clear: do not dare. Feeling trapped and terrified of being ostracized, I obeyed. I settled for a 2-year degree and buried any dream of going further. It was not until my career in airport management took me around the world that my eyes began to open. I discovered new cultures, new perspectives, and the most important truth of all: I am a lesbian woman, and I could not live authentically where I came from. At 28, I made the boldest decision of my life: to immigrate to the United States and finally be free. Free to hold my wife's hand in public. Free to wear my pride openly. Free to breathe. The first five years were about surviving: working, healing, and slowly learning who I really was outside of everything I had been told to be. Then, at 33, encouraged by my wife, I enrolled at Bergen Community College. It was not just an academic decision. It was me finally taking back everything that had been taken from me. Now I understand why they did not want us educated. Education is so powerful that it opens your eyes. You develop critical thinking and deep analysis about everything around you. You can't fool an educated person. And that is exactly what the leaders of my religion feared: that if we learned to think for ourselves, we would stop following blindly. They were right. Every class, every exam, every semester, I push through while working full-time and supporting my family, which means something bigger than a grade. My 3.8 GPA is proof that I am capable of what I was told I could never do. The legacy I hope to leave is rooted in that same freedom. I am pursuing Business Administration with a focus on Human Resources because I want to be the person who makes sure others feel seen, valued, and like they belong, especially LGBTQ+ employees, immigrants, and minorities who, like me, needed someone in their corner and never had one. I want to leave every person I work with better than I found them. Education opened that door for me. I plan to hold it open for others.