I have to be honest and tell you that the ambitions I pass around like secrets are not fully locked into place. Ever since I was 9 years old, I’ve been saying I wanted to be a computer scientist, but honestly, I don’t know if that dream was fully based on my love for computing skills or my love for money and all things shiny (including the diamonds I imagined I’d eventually buy with those skills). But as I grew older and grew through my circumstances, I still couldn’t seem to find a true love for it. I had a lot of inhibitions toward computer science, especially because I naturally leaned more toward English and linguistics. People always told me they could see me as a lawyer, so eventually I considered that too. I sat there thinking, “Could I really see myself defending people who whispered their guilt into my ears?” The answer was a hard no. So I shoved those thoughts into a little compartment box in my head and kept coding. Still, something felt missing. Coding alone couldn’t satisfy the need for purpose I had inside me. Then later in high school, my sister became determined to become an attorney. Naturally, being the supportive younger sister that I am, I started looking into lawyer salaries to make sure she’d make enough money for me to occasionally call and ask for food. The duties of an older sister never stop, after all. While looking, I stumbled across an interview with a patent lawyer. Out of pure curiosity, and honestly a little spite, I clicked on it and discovered that patent lawyers are essentially science-based lawyers. The science I had grown to resent and the English I wished had a little more green attached to it could actually coexist. “Stay calm. IT is happening,” is genuinely all I could think as I rolled over in excitement. Ever since then, I’ve been pursuing that path. Sometimes, honestly, more on the English side. I became a legal intern at a Black woman-owned law firm, where the main attorney honestly terrified me in the best way possible. At the same time, I’ve continued building my technical experience by working as an IT specialist at the Hussman School of Journalism and Media at UNC, becoming an active member of NSBE (National Society of Black Engineers), and recently becoming a Google software engineering intern, which still shocks me because I truly thought I had no chance, especially since it was basically already summer. Through all of this, I’ve realized I don’t just want success; I want intersection. I want to find the place where technology, creativity, communication, and purpose all meet. After this degree, I definitely plan on pursuing some type of higher education. My Nigerian parents are thinking doctorate, and honestly… I might just agree. Keep that between us, though. Maybe I’ll become a patent lawyer. Maybe I’ll work in Silicon Valley at Google forever (a dream). Maybe I’ll end up doing engineering at Sephora and spend my days testing blushes while coding interfaces. Wherever I end up, I know I’ll succeed because education has done more than prepare me for a career; it has helped me evolve into the woman I am today: ready, thriving, ambitious, and beautifully complete.

My name is Stephanie, and I’m a high school senior who’s learned to wear many hats. Life hasn’t exactly been a straight path for me, it’s been more like a rollercoaster with twists, turns, and the occasional loop. But through it all, I’ve held on tight and found ways to grow stronger. When my dad suffered a severe spinal injury, everything changed. My family went from having two incomes to just one, and my mom had to take on two jobs to make ends meet. I became a second pair of hands at home, helping with my siblings, managing household responsibilities, and even stepping into the role of coordinating my dad’s doctor visits. At the same time, I worked part-time to contribute financially while balancing schoolwork and extracurriculars. Late nights became my new normal, finishing homework after a closing shift or staying up to help my siblings with their school projects. Despite the challenges, I’ve kept my head up and found ways to thrive. I started S.H.E (Striving for Her Excellence), a club at my school dedicated to creating a safe space for women of color to share their experiences and support one another. It’s my way of giving younger girls the kind of mentorship and representation I wished for when I was their age. Outside of school, I teach praise dancing at my church and help lead our gospel choir, roles that allow me to connect with my community and give back in meaningful ways. This scholarship would mean more to me than just financial relief—it’s a step toward achieving my dreams. I plan to pursue a degree in computer engineering, a field that excites me because of its potential to drive innovation and create change. My ultimate goal is to attend law school and specialize in digital law, where I can advocate for equitable access to technology and ensure that marginalized communities are not left behind in our rapidly evolving world. Beyond my professional aspirations, I dream of creating opportunities for children in Africa, specifically in Nigeria. My goal is to build schools and computer labs where underprivileged kids can learn the technological skills they need to succeed in a global economy. I want volunteers to teach these skills and experience the beauty of African culture firsthand. It’s about breaking stereotypes, building connections, and showing the next generation that their potential is limitless. This scholarship would lift a significant burden off my family’s shoulders, allowing me to focus on my studies and continue giving back to others. I’ve faced adversity head-on, and it’s taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of community. With this support, I’m ready to keep climbing and bring others along for the journey.

When I think about adversity, I don’t imagine a single moment, I see a long, uphill climb that started when my dad suffered a severe spinal injury. One day, everything was fine, and the next, it felt like the world shifted under my feet. My dad, the strongest person I knew, couldn’t work anymore. Suddenly, we were faced with a harsh reality: one less income and a whole lot more responsibility. At first, I tried to act like everything was normal. But nothing was. My mom started working two jobs to make up for the loss, and I stepped up to help at home. It was a crash course in balancing school, part-time jobs, and being there for my siblings, all while navigating the emotional toll of seeing my dad in pain. It wasn’t easy. I missed deadlines, felt stretched thin, and wondered if things would ever get better. But over time, I realized that adversity doesn’t have to break you—it can shape you. I learned how to find moments of strength in chaos, whether that meant squeezing in homework after a late work shift or scheduling my dad’s doctor appointments between school events. I also learned the power of asking for help, whether from teachers, friends, or even Google on those late-night study grinds. What shaped me the most wasn’t just the responsibility, it was the perspective. I stopped taking things for granted, whether it was my ability to walk, the privilege of an education, or even the simple joys of family time. I started seeing challenges as opportunities to grow, to adapt, and to prove to myself that I could handle more than I thought. If I could give advice to someone facing a similar situation, it would be this: give yourself grace. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed, but don’t let that stop you. Focus on what you can control, even if it’s just one small thing at a time. And most importantly, lean on the people around you. Asking for support doesn’t make you weak, it shows that you’re wise enough to know you don’t have to do it all alone. My dad’s injury changed our lives, but it also taught me resilience. It showed me how to find strength in uncertainty and how to keep moving forward, even when the path isn’t clear. Today, I’m stronger, more determined, and more grateful for everything I’ve learned, and I know I can handle whatever life throws at me next.

Let’s start with the basics: I’m a high school senior balancing life like an unsteady Jenga tower. Between softball practices, Vacation Bible School, and running my school’s S.H.E (Striving for Her Excellence) club, I keep myself busy. S.H.E is my proudest accomplishment—a space I created for women of color to support each other, share our stories, and celebrate our wins, no matter how big or small. It’s like a giant sisterhood where everyone brings snacks and soul-healing vibes. When I’m not hitting home runs or mentoring younger girls at Bible school, I’m probably brainstorming my next big idea. Right now, that idea involves earning a degree in computer engineering (because who doesn’t love solving puzzles with code?) and then heading to law school to focus on technology and digital law. Yes, I want to be the person who makes sure the tech world stays ethical, secure, and as glitch-free as possible. But what really drives me is the thought of giving back, especially to underprivileged children in Africa. If I could start my own charity, it would be a game-changer. Picture this: a nonprofit dedicated to teaching technological skills to kids in underserved communities. The mission? Empower these kids with the tools they need to create their own opportunities. Think coding, app development, and digital literacy. We’d start by building schools and computer labs in rural areas where access to technology is almost nonexistent. Volunteers? Oh, they’d be superheroes—teaching kids everything from how to type to how to build websites. And here’s the kicker: they wouldn’t just teach; they’d also experience the beauty of Africa firsthand. Because let’s be honest, people need to stop acting like Africa is just a National Geographic special on lions or some unsafe place to avoid. It’s vibrant, it’s joyful, and it’s full of untapped potential. Of course, this charity wouldn’t be all work and no play. We’d host “Tech Fests” where kids could show off their projects, and volunteers could finally use those dance moves they’ve been saving for TikTok. There’d be plenty of jollof rice, music, and a chance to see what’s possible when you combine education with opportunity. Why this mission? Because I know what it feels like to have a dream that seems out of reach. I’ve watched my family juggle challenges, and I’ve hustled through late-night shifts to help keep things afloat. Education and access to technology are bridges to a brighter future, and I want to help build those bridges for others. So, who am I? I’m someone who’s passionate about softball, mentoring, and turning obstacles into stepping stones. I’m someone who believes in creating spaces where people feel seen and supported. And if I ever get my charity off the ground, I’ll be someone who changes the game for kids who deserve a chance to shine, just like I’ve been lucky enough to do.

Jack Terry’s story is a testament to the power of resilience and the strength of the human spirit. To survive the unspeakable horrors of the Holocaust, lose one’s family, and still rise to become a source of hope and inspiration to others is nothing short of remarkable. His journey from unimaginable adversity to a life dedicated to education, service, and healing resonates deeply with me because I, too, have faced hardship and have chosen to persevere. My family’s story, though different from Jack Terry’s, shares a common thread of endurance and hope. After my father suffered a debilitating spinal injury, our lives were upended. Once the primary breadwinner, he could no longer work, leaving my mother to take on two caretaking jobs while I shouldered much of the responsibility at home. With four siblings and three cousins living with us, my role expanded beyond that of a typical teenager. I became the one to coordinate hospital visits, provide emotional support, help my siblings with schoolwork, and even contribute financially by working nearly full-time while maintaining my academics. During this time, my family also continued to support extended relatives in Nigeria, despite our financial struggles. The weight of these responsibilities often felt overwhelming, especially as I balanced them with school and extracurricular activities. There were nights I stayed up until the early hours completing assignments after a long shift at work, only to wake up hours later to drive my siblings to school. Yet, like Jack Terry, I refused to let adversity define or defeat me. From these experiences, I’ve learned that strength is not the absence of struggle but the ability to rise in its face. I’ve discovered the importance of community, determination, and purpose. These lessons have inspired me to pursue a career where I can help others overcome their own challenges. Whether I become an immigration lawyer or a software developer creating accessible tools for underserved communities, I am committed to using my education to give back. Jack Terry’s journey also taught me the power of storytelling. Like him, I want to use my voice to inspire others to find hope in hardship and to amplify the voices of those who are often silenced. His resilience reminds me that no matter how difficult the path, it is possible to emerge stronger, kinder, and more determined to make a difference. Through this scholarship, I hope to honor Jack Terry’s legacy by continuing my education and giving back to the communities that shaped me. Like him, I want my story to be one of perseverance, drive, and ambition—a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is light ahead.

When I look back on my middle school years, I see a girl struggling to find her voice. As one of the only Black girls in my predominantly white school, every day felt like walking a tightrope between wanting to blend in and yearning to stand out. My presence often felt like an afterthought, and I lacked someone who truly understood what it was like to exist in a space where I constantly had to prove my worth. I longed for a role model who could reassure me that I belonged, that I mattered, and that I could thrive. That longing for connection became the foundation for S.H.E.—Striving for Her Excellence—an affinity space I created for girls of color in my school. S.H.E. is more than just a club; it’s a movement toward excellence in every sense of the word. It’s a space where we can be unapologetically ourselves, find strength in our community, and amplify voices that too often go unheard. The mission of S.H.E. is simple yet transformative: to empower girls of color to excel academically, socially, and personally—not despite their differences, but because of them. In our meetings, we tackle tough topics like navigating microaggressions, overcoming self-doubt, and embracing our cultural identities in spaces that weren’t built for us. These discussions often lead to moments of vulnerability and shared growth, creating bonds that go beyond the walls of the classroom. A unique aspect of S.H.E. is the intergenerational mentorship I’ve fostered. High school students mentor younger girls, offering them guidance, encouragement, and a sense of belonging. This mentorship cycle is deeply personal for me. I’ve seen middle schoolers walk into S.H.E. hesitant, uncertain of their place, and walk out with confidence, knowing they are not alone. Watching this transformation unfold is a constant reminder of why I started S.H.E.—to be the girl I needed when I was younger. But S.H.E. is about more than empowerment; it’s about action. We’ve worked together to host cultural celebrations, lead workshops on advocacy, and even organize school-wide initiatives to foster greater understanding of diversity. Through these efforts, we’ve helped shift the culture at our school, creating a more inclusive environment for everyone. For me, S.H.E. represents more than just a club or a project. It’s a promise to myself and every girl who has ever felt invisible or voiceless. It’s proof that excellence doesn’t come from blending in,it comes from standing tall, supporting one another, and celebrating what makes us unique. Through S.H.E., I’m building a legacy of empowerment, striving for her excellence by uplifting others, and reminding us all that our voices, our stories, and our sisterhood matter.

I’ve always believed that being a positive force doesn’t require grand gestures or public accolades. Sometimes it’s just holding the door open for someone, offering a smile when someone looks like they need it, or simply taking the time to listen. I’ve always tried to be that person who makes others feel seen, especially when life gets heavy. It’s the small things—the stuff that doesn’t always make the headlines—that can truly change the course of someone’s day, or even their life. I think a lot of people get caught up in the idea that to make a difference, you have to be some big, impactful figure who’s constantly on the go, changing the world in visible ways. But the truth is, kindness doesn’t have to be loud. Sometimes it’s the quiet moments that leave the biggest impact. I want to be the person who’s always ready with a smile, the one who makes you feel like you matter even when it seems like no one else notices. That’s how I’ve been a positive force now, and I plan to carry that mentality with me into the future. Right now, in my community, I’m the one who always checks in with the people around me. Whether it’s through my leadership in affinity spaces or simply by being a mentor to younger girls, I make sure people know they have someone in their corner. That, I think, is a powerful tool—because when people know someone is looking out for them, it makes them feel like they can take on the world too. The parameters of current social norms shape this thinking, because there’s this pressure to “perform” kindness and act a certain way, especially on social media. But I think we need to push back on that. Real, raw kindness isn’t for show—it’s genuine. It’s not about sharing a perfectly staged photo of a charity event or broadcasting every good deed we do. It’s about doing good quietly and consistently, even when no one is watching. That’s the kind of positivity I want to keep spreading—not for the likes, but for the people. In the future, I see myself continuing this journey, using my voice and skills to break down barriers and help those who may not have had the same opportunities. Whether it’s through my work in tech or by continuing to create spaces for women of color, I’ll keep leading by example, staying true to the small, impactful moments of kindness that make a big difference. So, in short, I plan to keep smiling, holding doors, and quietly changing the world—one small action at a time. And who knows? Maybe one day someone will say they remember that smile, and it made all the difference.

Growing up as a first-generation Nigerian-American, I’ve always carried my parents' dreams and sacrifices on my shoulders. My parents crossed an ocean to give me opportunities they could only dream of, and it is with that weight and pride that I pursue a future in STEM. I’m driven by the thought that the life I build must reflect the sacrifices they made. The hours my mother worked at two jobs, the way my father kept a brave face despite his injury, all of this fuels my determination to excel and break down barriers, especially in areas like digital equity and the intersection of law and technology. From a young age, I’ve always been captivated by technology—how things work, how they can be built, and how they can be used to make lives easier. Whether it was trying to fix a broken radio or learning to code as a hobby, I found myself endlessly fascinated by the potential of STEM to solve problems. But my drive doesn’t stop at personal curiosity. I’ve seen firsthand how underserved communities lack access to the very technology that could change their lives. This is a major challenge I want to tackle. I’m determined to bridge that gap, making technology accessible for everyone, especially those who need it most. Outside of my academic ambitions, my cultural heritage and values have shaped my approach to education and life. Growing up attending African hall parties, I learned the importance of community, the power of a shared experience, and the role of mentorship. It was through these experiences that I developed a deep sense of responsibility to give back. This is why I founded an affinity space for women of color at my school and why I continue to mentor younger girls in my community. I want to be the kind of mentor that I didn’t have growing up—a person who helps others see their potential and guides them toward success, especially when the road feels daunting. The Anthony B. Davis Scholarship would play a pivotal role in turning these aspirations into reality. Financially, it would alleviate the burden of tuition, allowing me to focus on what truly matters—my education, my growth, and my goals. This scholarship would also provide me with the opportunity to access resources and networks that will help me further develop my skills in coding, digital law, and advocacy. The chance to learn and grow in an environment dedicated to nurturing diverse voices in STEM would empower me to tackle the challenges I’ve set out to address. With this scholarship, I would gain the knowledge and experience to create meaningful change, particularly in underserved communities, and use my voice to advocate for policies that ensure technology is an asset for everyone. My vision for the future is one where access to technology isn’t determined by socioeconomic status, and I believe this scholarship will bring me closer to that future. It’s not just about what I can achieve; it’s about how I can use my talents to uplift others, ensuring that the sacrifices my parents made will not only be honored but extended through the work I do for others.

1) Develop and Possess Grit Grit is a term that encapsulates resilience, persistence, and the determination to push forward despite obstacles. For me, grit is woven into the fabric of my life. It’s something I have developed and continually rely on, especially when facing personal challenges. Growing up in a family that experienced the struggles of immigration, financial instability, and my father’s traumatic injury, I have learned that life rarely goes according to plan. But with grit, you keep going even when things seem impossible. One pivotal moment that truly tested my grit was when my father’s injury completely disrupted the balance of our family. My mother had to work multiple jobs to support us, and I stepped up to help manage the household while keeping up with my schoolwork. There were days when I felt like everything was too much to handle—balancing school assignments, responsibilities at home, and the emotional toll of watching my father struggle. But I refused to give up. I kept going. I learned to wake up at the crack of dawn to finish my homework, and when I couldn’t do that, I stayed up late. I took on part-time jobs to help make ends meet, but still pushed myself to maintain my grades and attend extracurricular activities. Through these challenges, I developed a tenacity that has become my greatest strength. I’ve learned that success doesn’t come without hard work, sacrifices, and a willingness to keep going even when there’s no clear path ahead. Whether I’m facing a tough exam, a difficult project, or personal obstacles, my instinct is to persist. This mindset has carried me through setbacks, reminding me that the strength to overcome is found in the will to continue, no matter the circumstances. I embody grit in my daily life, whether it’s balancing school and work, supporting my family, or chasing my dream of becoming a computer engineer. I know that the road won’t always be smooth, but with grit, I can navigate the bumps and come out stronger. This determination is not just about achieving my personal goals but also about giving my family the life they sacrificed for me to have. 2) Dare to Take Calculated Risks While I am proud of my resilience and determination, one area I’m working to improve on is my ability to take calculated risks. In many aspects of my life, I’ve learned to play it safe—to take the stable, predictable route. As someone who has been deeply invested in ensuring that my family is provided for, this cautious approach has served me well in some ways. However, as I work toward my future career goals in computer engineering and potentially pursuing digital law, I realize that to truly succeed and create the impact I want, I need to push beyond my comfort zone and take more calculated risks. One example of a potential risk I’ve avoided is applying for internships in tech companies and taking on roles outside my immediate area of expertise. I’ve always focused on academic excellence, making sure that I’ve built a solid foundation. However, I’ve hesitated to step into spaces where I might not immediately feel “qualified,” fearing failure or rejection. But I’ve come to understand that this cautious approach limits my growth. To improve in this area, I plan to start by shifting my mindset around risk-taking. Instead of seeing risk as a threat, I’ll begin to view it as an opportunity for growth. I’ll focus on calculating risks by weighing potential benefits against the consequences, ensuring that I take action in a strategic way. I also plan to seek mentorship from professionals who have taken similar risks in their careers. Their experiences will help me understand how to navigate uncertainty and turn risks into opportunities. Additionally, I’ll look for projects and opportunities that challenge my current skill set in computer science. Whether it’s taking on leadership roles in my community or applying for internships in tech firms, I will aim to stretch my abilities and build my confidence in taking risks. My goal is to become someone who doesn’t just wait for opportunities to come but actively seeks them out, even if it means stepping into the unknown. Taking calculated risks will not only propel my career but also help me grow as an individual, making me more adaptable, courageous, and capable of handling challenges in my personal and professional life. By embracing risk in a thoughtful, intentional way, I can create a future where I make an even greater impact in my community and in the world of technology.

I am a first-generation Nigerian-American, and my educational goals are deeply rooted in my desire to honor the sacrifices my parents made for me. My father came to this country with dreams of providing a better life for his family, and I carry that responsibility with me every day. As a child of immigrants, I have always felt the weight of their expectations and the drive to succeed in a world where I’ve had to constantly fight for my place. Education has always been my way forward, my path to not just success, but to making a difference in the world. One of the biggest obstacles I’ve faced in my life was when my father suffered a traumatic spinal injury. This completely shifted the dynamic of our family, as my mother had to work multiple jobs to keep us afloat, and I had to step up to help care for my siblings and maintain the household. Juggling schoolwork, part-time jobs, and the emotional weight of watching my father’s condition worsen taught me about resilience in ways I never expected. I learned how to balance multiple responsibilities and manage my time effectively, all while staying focused on my academic goals. During this time, I also discovered my passion for technology. I found comfort in coding and using technology to solve problems, even if the problems in my own life seemed insurmountable. I began to see the potential of tech not just as a career, but as a tool I could use to help others in situations similar to mine. It became clear that I wanted to pursue a degree in computer engineering and use my knowledge to create tech solutions that can bridge gaps in underrepresented communities. The experience of watching my family struggle while knowing I had the potential to build something better made me realize the importance of not just succeeding for myself, but using my success to uplift others. That lesson—of never giving up, even when it seems like the odds are against you—has shaped my academic journey. It has taught me the value of perseverance, problem-solving, and the power of community support. As I continue my education, I am committed to combining my passion for STEM with my cultural heritage to create solutions that can positively impact others, especially those from underserved communities like mine. In the face of adversity, I learned that the real obstacle isn't the challenge itself, but how you respond to it. I am stronger and more determined because of the lessons learned during that time, and I’m motivated to keep moving forward in pursuit of my goals, knowing that I have the strength to overcome whatever comes my way.

As a first-generation Nigerian-American, my cultural heritage is the heartbeat of everything I do. My parents came across an ocean to give me the opportunity to build a better life, and that responsibility weighs heavily on me every day. My father’s spinal injury and the challenges we faced when he could no longer work taught me early on that nothing is guaranteed, but everything is possible through resilience. Growing up, I always had to be the one to step up, whether it was taking care of my younger siblings or balancing schoolwork with the responsibility of supporting my family. Through it all, my Nigerian roots provided the strength I needed to keep pushing forward. In our community, African Hall parties were a sanctuary—a place where we celebrated who we were, our shared struggles, and our triumphs. The rich smells of jollof rice, the thumping of Afrobeats, and the laughter of family and friends created an environment where no one was alone. This sense of togetherness became the core of my identity and shaped my values. I learned that community is not just about being surrounded by people but about lifting one another up, being there for each other, and sharing in both the highs and lows of life. These values drive my commitment to giving back to my community, whether through mentoring younger girls or creating spaces for those who feel unseen. I founded an affinity space for women of color at my school, where we could discuss our challenges and triumphs in a supportive, empowering environment. Through this, I’ve helped younger girls feel heard and supported, teaching them that their voices matter, and that their identities are not something to hide but something to celebrate. Whether it’s through hosting events or mentoring younger students, I’ve dedicated myself to creating spaces where others can feel safe and valued, just as I did growing up. My cultural background has also had a profound impact on my educational journey. In my family, education is sacred—something my parents fought for, traveling across oceans and leaving behind everything to ensure I had opportunities they never had. That sacrifice fuels my determination to succeed. I am committed to using my education in STEM, particularly computer engineering, to create solutions that can help underrepresented communities, especially my own. Whether it’s helping churches connect with their congregations or developing resources to empower African communities, I want to use my skills to give back to those who have shaped me. Receiving the Dr. Soronnadi Nnaji Legacy Scholarship would be more than just financial assistance—it would be a chance to honor the sacrifices my parents made. This scholarship would help me continue my journey in STEM, equipping me with the tools to create positive change. My parents came to this country with nothing but hope, and I refuse to let that hope go unfulfilled. I am determined to not only succeed but to build a future where I can give back to my family, my community, and those who need it most. This scholarship would be the key to making that vision a reality.

God has always been my rock, my father, the one I can turn to when it feels like my whole world is crashing down. Growing up in a Nigerian immigrant household, there were moments when the weight of everything seemed too heavy to bear. My family has faced challenges that many wouldn’t even begin to understand—my father’s injury that took away his ability to provide for us, my mother working tirelessly to support us all, and the constant fear of what would happen next if things didn’t change. There were nights when I would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and feel like I was drowning in responsibilities, expectations, and the pressure to keep everything together. In those moments, it was my faith that held me up. It wasn’t the quiet moments of peace or the comfort of knowing everything would be okay right away. It was the knowledge that God was with me, even when it felt like I was alone. I could cry out to Him, pour out my fears and frustrations, and feel His presence, reminding me that I wasn’t walking this path by myself. Those prayer gave me strength, even when I had none left to give. God has been my father in the truest sense of the word, always providing guidance, reassurance, and love, even when I had nothing left to offer. In my darkest moments, when my family was struggling and it felt like life was pulling us apart, I’ve held onto the belief that God’s plan for me was bigger than the temporary struggles I faced. That belief has been my anchor. My faith has taught me that while the world may throw obstacles in my way, there is always a higher purpose, a reason for the trials I go through. Through it all, I’ve learned that I’m stronger than I think, and with God by my side, nothing is impossible. As I continue my journey, I know that my faith will guide me in ways I can't fully understand yet. When I pursue my career in technology, I plan to use my skills to give back to my community, and to the church that has been there for me through everything. I want to use my passion for coding to create resources that will help churches and other organizations in need, especially those serving underserved communities. I see the lack of resources and digital infrastructure in many places of worship, and I want to help change that. Whether it's building websites, developing apps, or creating tech solutions that make it easier for people to connect with their faith, I want to use my skills to bridge the gap for others. Just as God has been the one to help me stand up when I’ve felt like falling, I want to be that support for others. In the end, I know my faith will continue to shape not only my personal life but my career. It will be the source of my strength, the foundation for my decisions, and the reason I keep moving forward, even when the path is unclear. God is my father, my rock, and I know that with Him, I can face anything that comes my way.

Resilience is often about overcoming challenges and using those experiences to inspire others. For me, it wasn’t just about surviving tough situations—it was about using what I’ve learned to help someone else see their own strength, especially when they’re facing their own struggles. One person I mentored who truly showed me how powerful resilience can be was a little girl named Najae. When I first met Najae, she was facing a lot of challenges in her own life—much like I had when I was her age. She was quiet, unsure of herself, and unsure of where to turn for support. I remember her walking into our group for the first time, her head down, barely making eye contact with anyone. She reminded me of myself when I was younger, struggling to find my place and my voice. I saw that fear in her eyes, and I knew exactly what she was going through. I decided to focus on showing Najae how to channel that fear into something powerful, like I had to learn to do myself. Slowly, I began to mentor her, giving her the same encouragement I wished I had received at her age. I shared stories with her about my own struggles—how I faced setbacks, whether it was balancing my family responsibilities, academic challenges, or moments when I felt like giving up. I made sure she knew that it wasn’t the setbacks that defined us, but how we picked ourselves up after they knocked us down. I showed her how resilience wasn’t about avoiding failure but learning from it and growing stronger. Over time, Najae began to change. She started to speak up more, her confidence growing with every little success. I remember one day when she spoke in front of a group for the first time. She was nervous, but I could see the spark in her eyes. I encouraged her, reminded her that her voice mattered, and that it was okay to be scared, but it wasn’t okay to let fear stop her. She finished her speech, and I could see how proud she was of herself. Seeing Najae grow and become more confident made me realize how much of an impact we can have on others just by sharing our experiences and helping them believe in their own strength. By showing her that resilience wasn’t about perfection, but about persistence, I hope I’ve helped her see that no matter what comes her way, she has the ability to rise above it, just like I did. In the end, mentoring Najae taught me that resilience isn't just something we build for ourselves—it’s something we pass on, lifting others up so they can build their own strength too.

public class FutureGoals { public static void main(String[] args) { String computerScienceGoal = "Develop innovative tech to empower underserved communities"; String nonComputerScienceGoal = "Continue creating safe spaces for people of color"; System.out.println("Initializing future goals..."); System.out.println("Computer Science goal: " + computerScienceGoal); System.out.println("Non-computer Science goal: " + nonComputerScienceGoal); combineGoals(computerScienceGoal, nonComputerScienceGoal); } public static void combineGoals(String csGoal, String nonCsGoal) { System.out.println("Combining tech and community for a better future..."); System.out.println("My mission: Use computer science to create solutions that bridge the digital divide and uplift my community."); } } When I think about my future, it's like running a program full of possibilities—some goals are coded in, others are more like variables waiting to be defined. As someone who's passionate about computer science, my main goal is clear: I want to harness the power of technology to solve real-world problems, particularly for communities that are underserved or overlooked. Whether it’s through developing software that addresses accessibility issues or building tools that improve access to education, I want to create tech solutions that make a tangible difference. My dream? To one day build platforms that connect people and resources in ways we haven’t even thought of yet. It's all about combining the technical with the social to make a lasting impact. On the flip side, while I’ve got my head in the code, I’m equally focused on making sure my heart stays grounded in community work. I’m driven by a desire to help others, especially young people of color, find spaces where they feel seen, supported, and celebrated. That’s why I founded S.H.E., an affinity space for girls of color to come together, share experiences, and lift each other up. My goal here is to continue creating environments where everyone can thrive, whether that’s through mentoring, organizing events, or simply providing a listening ear. Now, here’s where things get interesting: I don’t see these two goals as separate. In fact, I’m convinced that the combination of my computer science ambitions and my community-focused mindset will lead to the best kind of future. Imagine using tech to amplify the voices of marginalized communities or creating digital spaces where people of all backgrounds can come together to share their stories, much like what I’m doing with S.H.E., but on a global scale. Whether it’s through creating accessible education platforms or using data to push for social change, I want to be the bridge that connects innovation and impact. In the future, I see myself working at the intersection of technology and social justice, blending my technical skills with my passion for advocacy. I’m coding my way toward a career that not only advances my personal goals but also makes a positive, lasting impact on the world around me. And with a little bit of creativity, some problem-solving, and a lot of determination, I’m confident that I can build a future where tech and community aren’t just linked—they’re inseparable.

I’ve always been a bit of a scaredy-cat when it comes to animals. The classic "I'm afraid of dogs" trope? Yeah, that was me. The first time I met Bassey, my friend’s massive dog, I froze. Picture this: a big, fluffy, slobbery giant of a dog staring me down while I tried to make myself invisible. He was this huge ball of fur with a bark that could probably be heard from space, and let me tell you, I wasn’t having it. I’d always keep my distance, afraid that his excitement would end in me being knocked over or slobbered on in the worst possible way. But then… something changed. As I spent more time with my friend, I realized Bassey wasn’t this terrifying creature at all. Slowly, we began to coexist in the same space—my friend and I laughing and hanging out, and me cautiously warming up to Bassey, too. I’d throw the ball for him (while strategically keeping my distance, of course), and I noticed that he was incredibly gentle. For all his size and bark, he was a true “gentle giant.” He’d give me the kindest, softest puppy eyes, waiting for me to throw the ball again, and before I knew it, we were thick as thieves. I’ll admit, there were still moments where he startled me (hello, random barking!), but Bassey and I had formed an unspoken bond. By the time Bassey passed away, we were inseparable. He’d learned to trust me, and I had learned to trust him. His presence became comforting instead of scary, and I realized that my fear had transformed into admiration and deep affection. I had finally understood why people were so passionate about their pets and why animals were worth loving. He wasn’t just a dog; he was a friend, a companion, and a reminder that what we fear most can sometimes turn out to be something beautiful. That experience with Bassey really solidified my desire to help animals. I’d been afraid of him at first, but as I saw the pure love he gave my friend and me, I realized how much animals have to offer. They’re full of heart, loyalty, and affection. That’s why I’m so passionate about finding a way to help animals with technology—because they deserve all the love and care we can give them. Just like Bassey, they can transform our lives in ways we never expect, and I want to be there to make sure they get the care and respect they deserve.

Giving back to my community is more than just a responsibility for me—it’s a way of life. It’s something I’ve carried with me since I was young, and it continues to shape who I am today. I’ve always believed that the true measure of success is not how much you can get for yourself, but how much you can lift others along the way. From the creation of S.H.E to the jollof rice every Sunday, these are the ways I give back to the people who’ve shaped me, and the ways I plan to continue long after I graduate. S.H.E., the affinity group I founded, has been one of the most impactful ways I’ve been able to serve my community. In our meetings, we create space for girls of color to come together and talk about the struggles we face, the triumphs we celebrate, and everything in between. It’s a space where we can lift every voice and sing, much like the hymn "Lift Every Voice and Sing" that has always reminded me of the strength that comes when people come together. S.H.E. is about building a foundation where we share experiences, not just as individuals, but as a collective of resilient, empowered young women. It’s about seeing each other for who we truly are, not who society tells us we should be. Much like the chorus of that anthem, we stand together—unapologetic and strong. But giving back isn’t just about creating formal spaces—it’s also about the small, consistent things. Every week, the smell of jollof rice fills my house as I invite friends and family over to share a meal. This is where I’ve learned the real meaning of community. Jollof rice isn’t just food; it’s tradition, it’s family, it’s love. It’s a connection to my roots and a reminder that no matter how far I go, I’ll always come back to the people who’ve supported me. It’s in these moments—where we come together, laugh, and share our stories—that I truly feel the power of community. And that’s something I’ll carry with me forever. Every person who steps into my home gets more than just a meal—they get a piece of my heart, and I get the opportunity to give back in the most personal way. When I think about the future, I know that the work I’ve started—whether through S.H.E., my family, or the lessons passed down through the generations—will continue in everything I do. I plan to go into digital law or technology, to ensure that communities like mine have access to the opportunities they deserve. I want to be the kind of leader who helps bridge the gap between privilege and access, and I plan to do that by creating more spaces like S.H.E and using my career to advocate for underserved communities. I want to give back, not just through direct service, but by fighting for justice, equality, and opportunity in everything I do. The words of Langston Hughes always stick with me: “I, too, sing America.” This line resonates with me because, like Hughes, I believe everyone deserves to have their voice heard and their story told. I want to continue to lift others, just as my community has lifted me, and as I continue my journey, I know that my responsibility to give back will only grow. It’s not just about making a living—it’s about making a difference, about finding ways to help those who need it, whether through mentorship, career opportunities, or simply showing up with a plate of jollof rice. Because, at the end of the day, we all rise together.

Playing softball has had a massive impact on my life in ways I never expected when I first stepped onto the field. There’s something about the crack of the bat at early morning practice, the sound echoing through the stillness, that instantly ignites a fire inside me. It’s a reminder that hard work and passion are what drive me, whether it’s on the field or in my everyday life. Softball has shaped my mindset, my discipline, and my approach to everything I do. It’s not just a game—it’s a way of life that’s taught me resilience, teamwork, and leadership. I’ve been playing softball for years now, starting at a young age, and I’ve seen how it’s shaped me as both an athlete and a person. The sport has taught me the importance of working together toward a common goal. Whether it’s coordinating with teammates on a double play or encouraging someone who’s struggling, I’ve learned how to be a supportive leader and communicator. But it’s also taught me to push through the tough moments, when nothing seems to be going right. I’ve had my fair share of strikes, missed catches, and long seasons where it felt like progress was slow. But every time I fell short, I came back stronger—more determined to get it right. The challenges are part of the game, and they’re part of life too. I currently play on my school’s varsity team, where I’ve been fortunate enough to take on a leadership role, helping to guide the younger players and build team spirit. It’s a responsibility I take seriously because I know how much the sport has given me. It’s taught me about work ethic, perseverance, and how to stay mentally tough, especially when things get tough. I’ve also been involved in travel teams and local leagues, which has pushed me to compete at a higher level and refine my skills. But the best part? It’s the sense of camaraderie and the bond I share with my teammates. We’re not just a team on the field; we’re a family off it. The laughs, the inside jokes, and the shared sense of pride in our hard work make every moment worth it. Looking forward, I dream of continuing to play softball at the collegiate level. The thought of competing at that level excites me—not just for the challenge, but for the opportunity to represent something bigger than myself. I want to push my limits, develop as an athlete, and become a leader who inspires others, especially young girls of color, to believe in their abilities and take pride in their hard work. Softball has shown me that success isn’t just about the final score—it’s about the effort you put in along the way, the growth you experience, and the way you lift others up with you. Whether I continue to play professionally, move into coaching, or just keep the sport close to my heart, I know softball will always be a part of me. It’s taught me that failure is part of the process and that every setback is just an opportunity to bounce back stronger. Softball has been the foundation of my determination, my love for teamwork, and my belief in the power of hard work. It’s more than a sport—it’s helped shape the person I am today and the person I’m still becoming. And that’s something I’ll carry with me wherever life takes me.

Being a core facilitator in the Baltimore Student Diversity Leadership Conference (BSDLC) holds a special significance for me as a Black individual. It allows me to teach future generations of children of color that it is okay to be who they are and that their identities are not just accepted but celebrated. My journey with BSDLC began in middle school when I participated in the Middle School Diversity Leadership Conference (MSDLC). From that early experience, I learned the power of diversity and the importance of fostering an inclusive environment where every voice is heard and valued. Growing up Black, I have experienced firsthand the challenges and obstacles that come with navigating spaces that were not always designed with my identity in mind. These experiences have fueled my passion for creating a more inclusive and equitable environment for all students. In my role as a core facilitator, I have the privilege of using my experiences to guide and mentor younger students, helping them understand that their unique perspectives and identities are strengths. One of the most profound aspects of my work with BSDLC is the opportunity to directly address and challenge the systemic issues that children of color often face. We delve into topics such as racial equity, identity, and social justice through workshops, discussions, and interactive sessions. These conversations are crucial for helping students understand that their experiences are valid and that they are not alone. By sharing my own stories and listening to theirs, we create a supportive community that empowers them to embrace their identities fully. Being a Black facilitator in BSDLC also allows me to serve as a role model for younger students. Representation matters, and seeing someone who looks like them in a leadership position can have a powerful impact on their self-esteem and aspirations. It sends a message that they, too, can achieve great things and be community leaders. This visibility is crucial for fostering a sense of belonging and encouraging students to take pride in who they are. Moreover, BSDLC provides a platform to spread awareness of issues that affect not just individual schools but the broader community as well. By addressing topics such as racial bias, cultural heritage, and the importance of diversity, we help students develop a broader understanding of the world around them. This knowledge equips them to become advocates for change in their own right, challenging prejudices and promoting inclusivity in their schools and neighborhoods. In conclusion, my involvement with BSDLC as a Black core facilitator is deeply meaningful. It allows me to teach future generations of children of color that it is not only okay to be who they are but that their identities are a source of strength and pride. By fostering an inclusive environment, providing representation, and spreading awareness of critical issues, we are building a community where every student can thrive. This work is not just about individual growth; it is about creating a more just and equitable society for all.