Being a single mother pursuing higher education means mastering the art of impossible schedules. I've written papers during soccer practices, studied for exams while my children slept, and attended virtual classes from hospital waiting rooms during their sick days. Every semester has required careful choreography between childcare, work, and coursework that most traditional students never have to consider. The financial strain has been constant. Choosing between textbooks and groceries, between registration fees and school supplies for my kids, between my future and their immediate needs. There were semesters I had to drop classes because I couldn't afford both tuition and rent. Watching other students focus solely on their studies while I juggled three jobs to keep us afloat was both heartbreaking and motivating.But my children have been my greatest teachers throughout this journey. They've watched me struggle with algebra homework at the kitchen table beside them, seen me celebrate small victories like passing a difficult exam, and witnessed my determination when everything felt overwhelming. They learned that education isn't just about grades but about refusing to give up on yourself. My experience as a ward of the state who received minimal guidance shaped my core values around this journey. I knew that breaking generational cycles meant more than just surviving. It meant creating the kind of stable, nurturing environment I never had. Education became my path to ensuring my children would never experience the neglect and lack of support that defined my childhood. Now, watching my daughter start her freshman year and my son continue as a sophomore, I see the direct impact of this sacrifice. They enter college with confidence, understanding their worth, and equipped with tools for healthy relationships that I had to learn through painful trial and error. They have what I fought to give them: a foundation of love, guidance, and unwavering support. My goal to become a sex therapist specializing in young people ages 11-25 grows directly from this experience. I want to be the adult who provides the guidance I lacked, who helps young people understand healthy boundaries and relationships before they have to learn through heartbreak and mistakes. This scholarship represents more than financial relief. It means I can focus on my studies instead of working multiple jobs. It means completing my degree without the constant stress of choosing between my education and my family's basic needs. Most importantly, it brings me closer to creating the practice where I can serve young people who, like me, need someone to believe in them and provide the guidance they deserve. My education will create ripple effects beyond my family. Every young person I help will potentially break their own generational cycles, creating healthier relationships and stronger communities. This scholarship doesn't just change my life – it changes the lives of everyone I'll serve.

I learned about boundaries the hard way. Growing up as a ward of the state meant being placed with a family that did the bare minimum. They provided food and shelter but nothing more. There were no conversations about consent, no guidance about recognizing red flags, no trusted adult explaining that I deserved respect and kindness. I stumbled through adolescence making mistakes that could have been avoided if someone had simply cared enough to sit me down and explain the basics. Living with people who were physically present but emotionally absent created a unique kind of neglect. I was hungry for connection but had no framework for understanding what healthy connection actually meant. I didn't know how to set boundaries because no one had ever modeled them for me. I didn't understand that I could say no, that my body was my own, that relationships should feel safe rather than chaotic. Those painful lessons followed me into young adulthood, but they also planted seeds of determination. When I became a single mother, I knew I had to break the cycle. I refused to let my children navigate the world as blindly as I had. Every conversation we had about respect, consent, and healthy relationships was a conversation I wished someone had given me. Now, as my daughter starts her freshman year and my son continues as a sophomore, I see how different their experience has been compared to mine. They know their worth. They understand boundaries. They have language for their feelings and tools to protect their wellbeing (something I wish I knew how to articulate when I was younger). Watching them thrive confirmed what I suspected all along: young people can make better choices when they have the right information and support. This realization drives my passion to become a sex therapist specializing in ages 11-25. I want to be the adult I desperately needed during those vulnerable years. I want to create safe spaces where young people can ask questions, learn about healthy relationships, and understand that they deserve respect and care. My childhood taught me that silence around sexuality and relationships isn't protection. It's abandonment. Every young person I work with will know they have someone in their corner who understands what it feels like to feel lost and alone. They'll learn what I had to figure out on my own: that healthy boundaries aren't walls that keep love out, but foundations that let real love flourish.

My unique contribution would focus on creating a comprehensive sexual health and relationship therapy model specifically designed for underserved communities, with particular emphasis on ages 11-25. This population often faces the greatest barriers to accessing quality mental health support around sexuality and relationships. I would develop sliding-scale therapy services combined with community-based education programs that meet young people where they are. This means partnering with schools, community centers, and youth organizations in diverse neighborhoods to provide both individual therapy and group workshops. My approach would eliminate traditional barriers like transportation, insurance requirements, and cultural stigma. As a Black mother who has navigated raising teenagers in today's world, I understand the specific challenges marginalized communities face when seeking mental health support. Many families lack access to therapists who understand their cultural context or who can address sexual health topics without judgment. My model would include training other therapists in inclusive, culturally responsive sex therapy practices, creating a network of affordable providers. I would also develop digital resources and peer support programs that extend beyond traditional therapy sessions, making ongoing support available 24/7. The goal is building sustainable systems that don't just treat individual cases but transform how entire communities approach sexual health and relationship wellness. This creates lasting change that reaches far beyond any single therapy session.