In the confined space beneath my mother's desk and fluorescent office lights, I built a hidden enclave. Equipped with my lone Betty Spaghetty doll and abandoned office supplies, I plotted her escape from this foreign planet of towering filing cabinets on days when daycare was a luxury my mom couldn't afford. Coming from a lineage marked by three generations of teenage parents, I was raised by my single mom in low-income housing. Despite my early interest in science, financial instability and racial and gender bias limited my access to STEM opportunities. As I grew older, I discovered that education could completely change the direction of one’s life, and when I started astrophysics, I found more than a career. I was naturally led to absurdism, a philosophical concept from Albert Camus that asserts life is unpredictable and inherently unfair. I embraced the idea that others' irrationality was never a reflection of my inadequacy, and found a way to make sense of my place within the universe. With that, I experienced a profound sense of agency that I wanted other women to feel for themselves. I knew that meant giving them access to STEM education, the confidence to pursue their own curiosities and self-understanding, and a platform to voice their ideas. Among all STEM fields, Black women remain severely underrepresented. Limited access, inadequate support, underrepresentation in leadership roles, and discrimination are some of many contributing factors. Inspired to make a change, I volunteered with the Black Girls Becoming (BGB) Summer Institute. This pioneering program is part of a nine-year IRB-approved study on Black girls' life outcomes. As the sole graduate student instructor among a group of Vanderbilt professors, I championed adding astrophysics into the curriculum, guiding 20 middle-school students through a two-week STEM program while developing materials and providing mentorship. Seeing their struggles with science identity and gaps in STEM knowledge inspired me to create my own project, AstroBeats. Through this project, I guided students in creating music using astrophysical data, converting NASA data into songs. The girls expressed their individuality while developing critical thinking skills to understand patterns in their songs related to astrophysical phenomena. I then organized a private event at Dyer Observatory where an ensemble performed their compositions, giving the girls an opportunity to express themselves through science, and share their work with an audience. The project earned me a mini-grant from the Heising-Simons Foundation, a keynote speaker invitation to the Vanderbilt School for Science and Math, the Margaret Cuninggim Women's Center Leadership Award, and a Student Spotlight feature at the University of Maryland. I have continued sharing this work through podcast appearances and my invitation to the Conference on World Affairs, where I talked about “Designing Sustainable and Inclusive Futures”. You can hear their songs at www.astrobeats.us. Access, confidence, a platform — these were things I had spent years helping women build. I started to realize that visibility was a kind of empowerment I hadn't yet learned how to give. To address that, I created an independent data analytics project examining 325 episodes across eight women-led podcasts, looking at what helps a woman's work find a wider audience. I published the analysis and interactive report through my GitHub, ShaniyaSolves, so other women could use the findings to grow their own reach. Across these experiences, I have created the opportunities I once lacked, helping women become confident, self-aware, and visible. As I finish my academic journey, I will continue actively shaping the changes I wish to see in the world. To suggest that anything could impede my mission, now that is truly absurd.

In the confined space beneath my mother’s desk and fluorescent office lights, I built a hidden enclave. Equipped with my lone Betty Spaghetty doll and abandoned office supplies, I plotted her escape from this foreign planet of towering filing cabinets on days when daycare was a luxury my mom couldn’t afford. Coming from a lineage marked by three generations of teenage parents, I was raised by my single mom in low-income housing. Despite my early interest in science, financial instability limited my access and exposure to STEM opportunities. Wanting to understand the inequalities that shaped my life fueled my desire to study people and their cultures in college. I began my studies at the University of Colorado, Boulder in international relations, but soon found that the human world didn’t adhere to the universal rules that I appreciated in science. I decided it was easier to study quantum mechanics than to foster global cooperation. My change in major drew an unexpected focus on my racial identity with fellow astrophysics students holding lower expectations of me, commenting on my articulate nature, and assuming I was only there as an athlete. To make sense of people's reactions to my presence in the department and to the inherent unfairness in the world, I turned to absurdism, a philosophical concept from Albert Camus that asserts life is unpredictable and absurd. I embraced the idea that others' irrationality was never a reflection of my inadequacy. I found joy and freedom through curiosity, and fulfillment from learning how the universe works. This perspective solidified my commitment to a STEM research career, and to helping other people of color find meaning in the way that I have. Among all STEM fields, Black women are underrepresented in Astronomy and Physics at less than 1% and are outnumbered by white women by a 25 to 1 ratio (Storey-Fisher, 2020; Astrobites). Limited access, inadequate support, underrepresentation in leadership roles, and discrimination are some of many contributing factors. To combat these issues, I served on the Executive Board of the Organization of Black & Professional Graduate Students at Vanderbilt, supporting 60+ Black STEM students’ transition into post-baccalaureate programs while advocating for improved recruitment and retention of Black students and faculty. Inspired to focus on even more vulnerable demographics, I worked with the Black Girls Becoming (BGB) Summer Institute as the sole graduate student instructor among a group of Vanderbilt professors. This pioneering, first-of-its-kind program focused on improving life outcomes for Black girls. I championed adding astrophysics into the curriculum, guiding 20 middle-school students through a two-week STEM program while developing materials and providing mentorship. These girls are participating in a nine-year Institutional Review Board (IRB) approved study, offering valuable insight into their long-term educational outcomes. Driven by their struggles with science identity and gaps in STEM knowledge, I created my own project called Astrobeats, empowering young girls to explore astrophysics through music by converting NASA data into songs. The girls expressed their individuality while developing critical thinking to understand patterns in their songs related to astrophysics phenomena. I then organized a private event, hiring an ensemble to perform their pieces at the local Observatory. You can hear their songs at www.astrobeats.us. This work earned me a mini-grant from the Heising Simons Foundation, a Student Spotlight feature, a keynote speaker invitation to the Vanderbilt School for Science and Math summer retreat, and the Margaret Cuninggim Women’s Center Leadership Award. As I work toward a Ph.D., I will continue actively shaping the changes I wish to see in my field. To suggest that anything could impede my mission, now that is truly absurd.

Lined against the deteriorating wall of an old apartment kitchen sat my collection of toys. Curious about what would happen if I dropped objects off the balcony, I decided to sacrifice two of my Betty Spaghetty dolls. They were the most useless, as my Hot Wheels cars could move themselves with a swift push, and to my mother’s potential dismay, I deemed dropping the 2lb. Lite Brite as too risky. Releasing those dolls ignited a fascination with how the world worked, and symbolized my liberation from traditional gender roles. From three generations of single teenage mothers, my family wanted more for me and always exhorted higher education. My mother instilled in me the determination to shape my own future and consequently, I am a first-generation student who has obtained a bachelor's in Astrophysics and am currently working towards becoming a part of the 1% of black women holding a Ph.D. in this field (American Institute of Physics, 2020). During my college years, I initially pursued International Affairs to indulge my curiosity about people, their lives, and their unique cultural backgrounds. However, as I delved further, I realized my primary passion lay in understanding how the universe worked beyond our blue marble. What followed pushed me to the edge of my capabilities and belief in myself. Studying a topic notoriously known for its low representation of women and shouldering the burden of paying for college unassisted compounded the isolation I felt as a female minority. These issues intensified as I encountered instances where fellow students in the department held lower expectations of me, making remarks on my articulate nature for “someone of my background” and requesting I be the designated “note-taker” instead. I recall a project where I built a circuit. Surprised, a classmate stood behind me and analyzed my work. “You finished that on your own? I figured you’d be the weakest member of the group” he joked. Motivated by both resilience and a bit of spite, I committed myself to outperform them in the subsequent years. In the same way that Connie Konatsotis sought to promote gender equality, I am dedicated to advocating for the educational opportunities of women in my field outside of my studies. Astrophysics, unfortunately has a history of diminishing women’s accomplishments. For instance, Joselyn Bell’s discovery of pulsars resulted in her advisor receiving the Nobel Prize while Bell faced questions about her physical appearance. Astronomer Vera Rubin found an anomaly in her data and was told, “This is what happens when you let a woman do science.” It turned out to be the discovery of dark matter. Despite less overt yet persistent discrimination regarding intelligence and capability, I’ve taken action by co-founding a Women of Color in STEM chapter with my undergraduate institution and coordinated outreach events for girls in underserved rural communities. Additionally, I collaborated with the Black Girl’s Becoming summer institute and won a mini-grant from the Women and Girls in Astronomy program. In both projects, I’m facilitating the exploration of science by converting data into music and art. As a professional, I aspire to become a professor and researcher, creating opportunities for others to pursue some of the greatest questions pervading our understanding. What I love about STEAM is that each discipline encourages a life-long pursuit of knowledge. They remain impartial to gender. They hold no bias towards our personal experiences, their devoted scholars, or even the objects we toss from balconies. Discovery belongs to everyone, and it is the responsibility of the innovators, problem-solvers, and visionaries to recognize that the exclusion of anyone, is an affront to the advancement of humanity.

My ability to adapt and overcome both trivial and important trials determined much of my path to Astrophysics. During a course to design, build, and test a spectrometer, I worked as the electrical engineer in my group. While leaning down to adjust a mounted lens, a few of my curls wrapped around a 1mm wide photon detector connected to the breadboard. Without thinking, I veered back, ripping out the wires of the detector (and some hair), ruining an elaborate circuit. My face became hot, and the fear of inferior treatment from the men in the group over an embarrassing error prompted immediate recovery planning. Forfeiting half of the morning to rebuild the board, realign the detector, and plot the data from our laser mitigated any delay to the team and constituted a small, personal test to demonstrate my resilience to any level of unexpected deterrence. This experience reinforced my belief that perseverance is the magic formula that transforms daunting hardship, into the spark of achievement. Two years into my undergraduate degree, I changed my major to Astrophysics from International Affairs after realizing my passions lie in understanding physics beyond our blue marble. What followed pushed me to the edge of my capabilities and belief in myself, but through sheer resilience, it allowed me to blossom as an individual and flourish as a professional. Reflecting on my experiences in college, I achieved laudable success; however, transitioning to Astrophysics left me academically, financially, and culturally unprepared. Money at times instilled great concern and I could not devote myself fully to learning the material due to the financial burden of paying for college unassisted. I found myself failing classes within the first year, creating gaps in my physics foundation, and making advanced courses incredibly difficult to comprehend. A bruised GPA and the process of perpetually falling behind compounded the isolation I already felt as a minority. These issues intensified as my household vocabulary did not include STEM, and I was constantly confused with being an athlete instead of a typical student. In seeing the lack of representation of diversity among peers and faculty, I questioned my place as a scientist in the community. These experiences dissolved my already dwindling confidence to ask questions, and to avoid drawing unwanted attention to myself, I remained silent. Though finances remained arduous, I prevailed academically, built my own support network, and remained focused. Managing my time and attending every help session led to improved grades, and in searching for support, no such resource existed, so I helped found a Women of Color in STEM branch for my major. This group allowed both me and other women to find encouragement, resources, and networking opportunities at CU. My motivation in overcoming those obstacles stemmed from my mother, who exhorted higher education while raising me young and on her own, and helped shape my determination to control my future. I became the first in the family to receive my bachelor’s degree, and passion combined with my ability to prevail inspired me to obtain a Ph.D. in Astrophysics. Though highly competitive, becoming a professor at an HBCU embodies my long-term goal. Encouraging the influx of diverse backgrounds not only benefits the scientific community but also those who aspire to join it. As I pursue my master’s in physics, I am facing similar challenges, and financial hurdles still impede my progress. However, I know that with support, I can become a prominent figure representing black women in a predominantly homogenous field, even ones who may also have lost a few curly hairs in the lab.

Navigating the academic world as an ambitious mixed woman is akin to being a planet. You are influenced by different gravitational forces, yet it is exceptionally difficult to knock you off an optimal path. Growing up with a single white mother meant I would only have access to one side of my identity. I felt I did not have anything to offer the black community because being myself only carried half the value, and so I gravitated away from my blackness. After graduating, I attended a predominantly white institution to obtain my bachelor's in Astrophysics. Seeing the lack of representation among faculty and peers, and the look of astonishment on people’s faces upon learning that my admission was based on academic merit rather than an athletic scholarship, compounded my already isolating experience as a minority. In the following years, my passion for space, the desire to know myself, and the frustration with the racial challenges I faced during undergrad inspired me to pursue my Ph.D. I chose an HBCU master’s program because they allow me to learn about my roots through their vibrant cultural heritage (something missing from my youth) and surround me with students of similar backgrounds. Statistics show a 60% likelihood of teenage pregnancy if raised by a teen parent (BioMed Central, 2016), a 47% chance of college attendance from a single-parent household (IFStudies, 2023), a 46% likelihood of college attendance as a first-generation (US Dept. Education, 2018), and a 1.8% chance of getting a physics master’s degree as a woman of color (AIP, 2020). The multiplication rule of probability says that my odds of being here today are .0009%. I knew deciding on an HBCU meant that I could bond with other outliers. Now with the cultural empowerment to stabilize my orbit, what is overcoming another 1%?

Black Voyager in the Collegiate Sea: The Embodiment of Grit and Navigating as a Developing Leader My ability to adapt and overcome both trivial and important trials determined much of my journey to Astrophysics. During a course to build a spectrometer, I worked as the electrical engineer in my group. While leaning down to adjust a mounted lens, a few of my curls wrapped around a 1mm wide photon detector connected to the breadboard. Without thinking, I veered back, ripping out the wires of the detector (and some hair), ruining an elaborate circuit. My face became hot, and the fear of judgment from the group over an embarrassing mistake prompted immediate recovery planning. Forfeiting half of the morning to rebuild the detector and plot the data from our laser mitigated any delay to the team and constituted a small, personal test to demonstrate my resilience to any level of deterrence. Adapting to obstacles after finding myself in hot water illustrated one of several significant academic experiences that would challenge my perseverance and growth as a leader. Possessing Grit Following my compass of curiosity, I changed my undergraduate degree from International Affairs to Astrophysics after realizing my passions lie in understanding the physics of space. I achieved laudable success; however, transitioning to Astrophysics left me academically and culturally unprepared, requiring the development of grit. Money at times instilled great concern and I could not devote myself fully to learning the material due to the financial burden of paying for college unassisted. I found myself struggling to pass classes within the first year, creating gaps in my physics foundation, making advanced courses incredibly difficult to comprehend. The process of perpetually falling behind and seeing the lack of representation of diversity among peers and faculty compounded the isolation I already felt as a minority. I questioned my place as a scientist in the community, and to avoid drawing unwanted attention to myself, I remained silent. To stay afloat, I embodied grit by prevailing academically and building my own support network. Managing my time and attending every help session, despite the fear of looking inept, resulted in high marks for retaken classes. Upper-division courses allowed me to perfect my scientific communication by practicing precise explanations of difficult concepts and asking for feedback. In searching for support, no such resource existed, so I helped found a Women of Color in STEM program for my major. This group allowed both me and other women to find encouragement, resources, and networking opportunities at CU Boulder. Our 1st annual organized brunch pulled in 50 new young women from all STEM disciplines and still runs today. Striving for Leadership Riding the wave of perseverance has carried me to great success; however, I aspire to grow as a servant leader. After becoming a part of a Master’s to Ph.D. bridge program with Fisk and Vanderbilt University, I am starting a mentorship program that Partners the HBCU of Fisk University with a neighboring Boys and Girls Club. I want these kids to see true representation and believe they belong on a college campus. Encouraging the influx of diverse backgrounds not only benefits the academic community, but also those who aspire to join it. To anchor my success in serving others, I have created a detailed plan on how to achieve this growth. To improve, these figures must dedicate themselves to the basic principles of servant leadership. These principles include the empowerment of others to succeed by focusing on their needs, practicing empathy and active listening, and lastly, remaining open to all forms of feedback. In doing so, a great leader establishes a productive and successful environment. As I work with this underprivileged group, I can focus on their needs by fostering their career aspirations and find resources that allow for the exploration of their interests. This includes finding tutors and putting them in contact with professionals in that field. I will practice showing empathy by giving each student personalized mentorship by offering support when they encounter personal or educational challenges. Finally, I plan to remain open to feedback by performing structured check-ins through small surveys and individual meetings. As I travel on this voyage of progression, I will continue to persevere and develop as a leader. Being the first in the family to receive my bachelor’s degree, I know what it takes to rise from the depths. Passion combined with my ability to prevail inspired me to work towards a Ph.D. in Astrophysics and evolve as captain of my own ship. Drawn to challenges for the empowerment, I also and perhaps more importantly seek to establish a sense of belonging for everyone by surrounding them with a colorful crew of future scientists, even ones who may also have lost a few curly hairs in the lab.