Volunteer work has been an integral part of my journey, woven into my personal and professional life, and deeply rooted in my faith and commitment to serving others. For nearly two decades as a licensed professional counselor, I have dedicated my career to helping people heal and thrive. I have consistently sought ways to remove barriers to mental health care, especially for communities of color who often lack access to culturally competent services. One significant part of my volunteer work has been providing pro bono therapy to individuals who lack insurance coverage or who have recently lost their jobs. I have witnessed how quickly life circumstances can strip people of both financial resources and hope. I believe that no one should have to choose between paying for basic needs and receiving mental health care. This conviction drives me to give my time and skills, ensuring that people in crisis can still find support. For the past five years, I have volunteered as a provider with The Loveland Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to funding therapy for women of color who cannot afford it. One Loveland client shared that receiving a grant for twelve therapy sessions saved her life during a divorce and financial crisis. She told me that being able to stay with the same therapist through such a tumultuous time allowed her to feel seen, heard, and capable of rebuilding her life. Stories like hers fuel my passion and remind me that volunteer work doesn’t just change individual lives, it strengthens entire communities. Beyond individual therapy, I lead workshops in churches and community spaces on topics such as grief, stress management, and building healthy relationships. Folks share that they once saw seeking therapy as a weakness or have never seen a mental health professional who looked like them. These conversations confirm what I believe: representation matters profoundly, and dismantling stigma around mental health is essential for true healing to occur in marginalized communities. I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve because my entire life has been about resilience, service, and turning adversity into purpose. When I was told in high school that I wasn’t smart enough to become a psychologist, I refused to accept that limitation. Although my initial attempt to enter a doctoral program was derailed due to lower GRE scores, a challenge stemming partly from attending an underfunded high school; I persisted. I earned my bachelor’s degree as an adult while raising children and working, then went on to complete my master’s degree in counseling with honors, proving my academic capability and determination. Now, at 54, I am returning to school to pursue my doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology at an APA-accredited institution because it is time to fulfill my lifelong dream. I want to deepen my expertise in neuropsychology and expand my ability to offer evidence-based, culturally informed mental health services to communities of color. I also hope to mentor future mental health professionals of color, building a more diverse and representative workforce. While I have received some merit-based scholarships for my academic achievements, they are not enough to cover the tuition costs of my program, especially as I will have to step away from full-time work. This scholarship would be pivotal in helping me continue my education without financial interruption. My life’s work is dedicated to ensuring that mental health care is accessible, culturally competent, and delivered with compassion and dignity. I am committed to turning my dreams into action, and determined to use my education and experience to bring hope, healing, and justice to the communities I serve.

My path has been shaped by moments of profound challenge and deep purpose, all leading me to this stage where, at 54, I am returning to school to pursue my doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology at an APA-accredited institution. From a young age, I dreamed of becoming a clinical psychologist, but I was told by a high school counselor that I wasn’t smart enough to be a psychologist. Instead, he suggested I become a secretary because my math and science grades were not strong. That moment left me devastated, but not defeated. While working on my undergraduate degree, I survived a devastating car accident that left me relearning how to walk. The physical pain was excruciating, but even more difficult was the emotional toll. I sought therapy, but struggled to find a mental health provider who looked like me or shared my worldview as a Black woman of faith navigating trauma and uncertainty. That experience deeply shaped my personal values and ignited my lifelong commitment to ensure that people of color have access to mental health professionals who can truly understand and support them. After earning my bachelor’s degree in my late 30s, I applied to doctoral programs in clinical psychology. I had research experience, strong grades, and tremendous motivation. But after being out of high school for years, I struggled on the GRE. Many younger students with deeper academic backgrounds scored higher and secured interviews, while I did not. Though it was painful, I refused to let that setback end my dream. Instead, I pursued a master’s degree in counseling to prove I could excel in graduate work. I graduated with honors and became a licensed professional counselor. Over the past two decades as a licensed professional counselor, I’ve dedicated my career to serving healthcare professionals and high-functioning adults, many of whom are people of color silently carrying anxiety, depression, and the burden of maintaining an image of strength. The commitment I have goes far beyond my practice. I’ve provided pro bono therapy for individuals without insurance or who have recently lost their jobs. For the past five years, I’ve partnered with The Loveland Foundation, offering therapy to women of color who could not otherwise afford it. Additionally, I lead workshops in churches and community spaces on grief, stress management, and building healthy relationships. People approach me and share how they once believed seeking therapy was a sign of weakness, and that they had never seen a mental health provider who looked like them. These conversations remind me daily that representation matters, fueling my drive to continue this work. Now, with my children grown and community work well-established, it is time to fulfill my own dream. I am pursuing my doctorate to deepen my expertise in neuropsychology and expand my ability to offer evidence-based, culturally informed care. My vision is to integrate neuropsychological knowledge into mental health treatment, helping individuals understand how brain health connects to emotional well-being and equipping them with practical tools for healing and resilience. I also hope to mentor future mental health professionals of color, increasing representation and building a stronger, more diverse mental health workforce. While I have received some merit-based scholarship funds due to my academic excellence, it is not enough to cover the tuition costs of my APA-accredited program, especially since I will be required to step away from my full-time counseling practice. Receiving this scholarship would be crucial in helping me continue my education without financial interruption and allow me to remain focused on my calling to transform mental health care for marginalized communities.

One of the most urgent national health issues in the United States today is mental health care, particularly the lack of access to quality, culturally responsive services, and the persistent stigma that discourages people from seeking help. Conversations around mental health have grown in recent years, yet significant gaps remain, especially for communities of color who face unique barriers in accessing competent and compassionate care. As a graduate student beginning my doctoral degree in Clinical Psychology at an APA-accredited institution, I am deeply passionate about changing this reality because I have both lived and witnessed its consequences firsthand. My personal journey with mental health began after surviving a devastating car accident while working toward my undergraduate degree. The physical injuries left me relearning how to walk, but the emotional toll was equally profound. When I sought therapy, I struggled to find someone who looked like me or who shared my worldview as a Black woman of faith navigating trauma and uncertainty. That experience opened my eyes to how isolating it can be when quality mental health care feels out of reach or disconnected from one’s cultural identity. In recent years, I have seen the mental health needs of individuals soar, especially since the pandemic, which brought unprecedented stress, loss, and social isolation. It made clear how urgently we need accessible, culturally competent mental health care for all communities. That experience planted the seeds for my nearly two-decade career as a licensed professional counselor. I’ve dedicated myself to serving healthcare professionals and high-functioning adults, many of whom are people of color silently burdened by anxiety, depression, and the pressure to appear strong. Yet my commitment goes beyond my practice. I have provided pro bono therapy to individuals without insurance or who have recently lost employment. For the past five years, I’ve partnered with The Loveland Foundation, offering therapy to women of color who could not otherwise afford it. One client I referred to Loveland shared that receiving a grant for twelve sessions saved her life during a divorce and financial crisis, underscoring how access to mental health care can mean the difference between despair and hope. Additionally, I lead workshops in churches and community spaces focused on grief, stress management, and healthy relationships. After these talks, men, women, and couples often tell me they once saw seeking therapy as weakness or a character flaw. Many share they’ve never seen a mental health provider who looked like them, which fueled their reluctance to seek help. These conversations drive home how powerful representation is and how essential it is to dismantle stigma surrounding mental health care in marginalized communities. This national crisis is not just a professional concern for me; it is a calling. I am committed to expanding my ability to offer evidence-based, culturally informed care to communities who need it most. I believe integrating neuropsychology into my practice will help individuals understand how brain health connects to emotional well-being and equip them with practical tools for healing. My faith compels me to treat every person with dignity and hold space for their humanity. However, pursuing this degree will require stepping away from my counseling practice, creating a tremendous financial strain. I am seeking scholarship support to continue on this path to transform mental health care for marginalized communities. I care deeply about this because I have lived it and believe no one should ever feel unseen, misunderstood, or alone on their journey toward healing. I truly believe that quality mental health care should be a right for everyone, not a privilege for a few.

My beliefs, career, and activism have been profoundly shaped by a car accident I survived while working toward my undergraduate degree, a moment that changed not only my body but the course of my life. After the accident, I had to relearn how to walk, all while trying to stay in school. It was one of the most vulnerable times I’d ever experienced. Seeking therapy felt necessary, yet I struggled to find a provider who looked like me or understood my worldview as a Black woman of faith navigating trauma, fear, and uncertainty. That experience taught me how courageous it is for someone to reach out for help and how everyone deserves the right to see someone they can identify with in the role of mental health provider, someone who can hold space for the context and complexities of what it can mean to be BIPOC in the United States. This conviction has fueled my nearly two-decade career as a licensed professional counselor, where I serve healthcare professionals and high-functioning adults, many of whom are people of color silently carrying anxiety, depression, and the burden of appearing strong. Beyond my practice, I’ve dedicated myself to removing barriers to mental health care. I’ve offered pro bono therapy to individuals who have no insurance or who’ve lost their jobs, and for the past five years, I’ve been a provider for The Loveland Foundation, offering therapy to women of color who couldn’t otherwise afford it. One woman I introduced to the Loveland Foundation told me that receiving a grant covering twelve sessions changed her life; she had lost her insurance midway through therapy, was going through a divorce while raising several children, and felt hopeless about continuing treatment. She said the ability to stay with the same therapist helped her heal during the darkest time of her life. Stories like hers are my "why" and motivate me to always look for resources and creative ways to bridge barriers to care, which disproportionately impact BIPOC communities. I also lead workshops in churches and community conferences on topics such as grief, stress management, and building healthy relationships, empowering people to navigate life’s challenges with resilience and hope. After my talks, men, women, young people, and couples often approach me to share how they once saw therapy as weakness or a character flaw and had never seen a provider who looked like them. Their courage and honesty inspire me to keep going. At 54, I am returning to school to earn my doctorate in Clinical Psychology, focusing on neuropsychology, so I can expand my ability to serve marginalized communities. I believe integrating neuropsychology into my practice will help individuals better understand how brain health connects to emotional well-being and equip them with practical tools for healing and growth. My faith calls me to treat everyone with dignity and respect, to hold space for their humanity, and to help them rebuild lives they can truly live in. With advanced training, I am determined to break down barriers, reduce stigma, and ensure that no one feels unseen, misunderstood, or alone. This is not simply my profession; it is a calling from God. I am committed to transforming mental health services so that every person, especially those in marginalized communities, can access care that honors their culture, story, and hope for the future.