Mental health is often misunderstood as weakness. In my life, it has been the very reason I am still standing. I did not grow up in a household that nurtured mental wellness. Instead, I was raised by parents who believed that emotions should be buried, that women should be quiet and obedient, and that ambition, especially in a woman, was shameful. I was told daily that I was worthless. That I would never make it. That my dreams were laughable. That I would fail no matter how hard I tried. I lived in a home where the only thing louder than the silence was the weight of being unwanted and constantly doubted. Over time, that belief system started to seep into my own thinking. I began to believe that maybe I was nothing. That maybe the pain I felt, the emptiness, the tears I cried in silence, maybe it was all just part of who I was. I started hiding behind a mask. I smiled on the outside, but inside, I was fighting for my life. I carried anxiety like armor, and I pushed myself harder than anyone else did because I believed that if I achieved more, maybe I would finally feel like I mattered. But nothing was ever enough. I am a first-generation college student, a woman of color, a double major in Marketing and Supply Chain with a focus in Artificial Intelligence, and a full-time student athlete playing golf at the University of Texas at Dallas. I also work two jobs just to survive. My academic journey is not funded by college savings or supportive parents, in fact, my parents made it more difficult by refusing to complete FAFSA, refusing to help with housing, and punishing me emotionally and financially when I did not conform to their expectations. They even took away my dream car and replaced it with a broken one as “discipline” for making decisions they did not approve of, like letting someone drive the car or being home 20 minutes late. But despite that, I kept going. I have no safety net, no backup plan, and no one to fall back on. If I fall, I fall alone. The emotional toll of that kind of life is heavy. It led to isolation, panic attacks, insomnia, and feelings of hopelessness. There were moments when I questioned my worth, even considered if life was worth continuing, but something deep in me kept fighting. I realized that I did not want to die, I just wanted to stop hurting. I wanted peace. I wanted freedom. And I realized that if no one was going to save me, I had to save myself. That was when my relationship with golf became more than a sport. On the course, I was not a disappointment. I was not a burden. I was a player. I was focused. I was free. Golf taught me patience, emotional control, and how to reset under pressure. It gave me strength when I had none left and taught me how to walk with my head high in rooms where I was the only girl. It shaped how I approach life, work, school, and relationships. When I play, I remember that I am not what I came from. I am not the names they called me. I am not the failures they predicted. I am powerful, and I am proving it every day. Mental health has also shaped how I relate to others. I have learned how important it is to show empathy, to listen when someone is silently breaking, and to offer support even if you do not fully understand someone’s pain. I have become the friend I wish I had. I have also had to let go of people who did not respect my boundaries or who triggered the same feelings of inadequacy I grew up with. I have chosen peace over popularity and healing over history, even when it is lonely. My mental health struggles have become my fuel, not my flaw. They have taught me to lead with compassion, to speak up for others who have been silenced, and to build spaces where people, especially women, feel seen and heard. My dream is to use my voice and platform to advocate for mental health in sports, education, and the workplace. I want to show people, especially those raised like I was, that they are not doomed by their beginnings. I want to be a voice for women who were told they should only serve men. For students who are told they are wasting time chasing a degree. For the girls who cried themselves to sleep but still showed up to class. For the athletes who feel like they must always be strong. For anyone who ever thought they were nothing, because I was that person, and now I know I am everything they said I could not be. I am no longer trying to prove my parents wrong. I am proving to myself that I was always right to dream bigger. That I deserve to be here. That surviving was not the end goal, thriving is. This journey has not been easy. I still have hard days. I still hear their voices in my head, but now I drown them out with my own. I choose to believe in myself even when it is hard. I choose growth. I choose healing. I choose to keep going, not in spite of my mental health journey, but because of it. This scholarship would not just support my education. It would validate the years I spent being told I did not belong. It would help lift the financial burden I carry alone and allow me to continue pushing toward a future I am building entirely by myself. And one day, when I am in a position to give back, I will be the one funding scholarships for students like me, because we deserve a chance to be more than what the world expected.

I was raised in a household where girls were constantly reminded of their place, silent, obedient, and in service to others. My parents told me education was pointless for a woman. They openly believed that a woman's only value was in how well she could serve men. I grew up hearing that I was worthless, that I would never amount to anything, and that dreaming beyond the walls of my home was foolish. As a Muslim woman navigating a deeply traditional and emotionally harsh environment, I felt trapped between the values I knew were wrong and the strength I knew I had inside me. That internal conflict nearly destroyed me. There were times when I questioned whether pushing forward was even worth it, times I truly considered giving up altogether. But God gave me signs in those moments, through people, opportunities, and quiet moments of hope. And slowly, I realized I was not meant to shrink myself to fit someone else's expectations. I was meant to grow and help others grow too. Despite every obstacle, I became the first person in my family to attend college. I am now a student at the University of Texas at Dallas, double majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I am also a student athlete, competing on the collegiate golf team, and I work two jobs just to support myself. I receive no financial help from my family, only constant reminders that they believe I will fail. I do not receive academic scholarships or federal aid, so every tuition payment, textbook, and meal is something I fight for and earn myself. This is not the life my parents imagined for me, but it is the life I chose, and the one I know Allah wants me to pursue. I want to pay it forward by showing young Muslim girls that faith and ambition can coexist. I want to use my career in marketing to uplift women owned businesses and amplify the voices of those who feel silenced in their own homes or communities. One day, I hope to start a nonprofit that provides career mentorship and education resources for Muslim women facing cultural or familial barriers like I have. More than anything, I want to be living proof that we are not limited by where we come from. That we can be strong, educated, Muslim women, full of faith, drive, and purpose. This scholarship would not only lift the heavy financial burden I carry, but it would also affirm that I am not alone, that there are people who believe in women like me, and in the power we have to change this world. My story is painful, but it is not rare. That is why I plan to use every opportunity I am given to open doors for the girls coming after me. Girls who were told to sit down and be quiet. Girls who were taught that their dreams were sins. I want them to know that their strength, their voices, and their minds are gifts from God, and that no one can take that away from them. I will never forget the women who inspired me, even from afar. Now, I hope to become that woman for someone else.

My name is Syrah Javed, and I am currently an undergraduate student at the University of Texas at Dallas. I am pursuing a double major in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. My reason for choosing this path stems from a deep desire to change the narrative for people like me, people who come from overlooked backgrounds, who are underestimated, and who are often told that they will never succeed. Marketing, to me, is more than promoting a product; it is about understanding people, connecting with their needs, and delivering solutions that matter. Coming from a strict household where I was constantly told that women are meant to serve, not lead, I found my voice through strategy, branding, and storytelling. I was raised hearing that education was pointless, that a career would be useless for someone like me, and that I would never amount to anything. That negativity once crushed me, but it later became the fuel for everything I do. I found inspiration in the very things I was told I could not be: independent, creative, strategic, and influential. Marketing became a space where I could reclaim my voice and turn my ideas into action. It is the perfect blend of psychology, design, innovation, and communication, all things I am deeply passionate about. I thrive in environments where I can think critically, create impact, and build trust with an audience. That is what marketing allows me to do. I have already begun applying these passions in the real world. As a full-time student athlete, I balance golf practices and tournaments while working two jobs to support myself financially. One of those roles involves brand management and customer engagement, giving me hands-on experience with what makes a business thrive. It is a challenging schedule, but it has shown me just how committed I am to this industry. I have learned the importance of storytelling, emotional connection, and value-based selling, and I see how marketing can shape communities, shift perspectives, and elevate voices that have long been silenced. What draws me most to sales and marketing is the opportunity to inspire. I want to represent women of color in spaces that still lack diversity. I want to show the next generation that we can lead, pitch, close deals, and command rooms with confidence. I want to prove that someone who was once told they were too emotional or too different can be the most persuasive voice in the room. My long-term goal is to establish my own marketing consultancy or brand agency that supports minority-owned startups in growing, scaling, and building recognition. I want to work with purpose-driven entrepreneurs who have incredible ideas but lack the resources and representation to share them with the world. I want to apply everything I have learned, both academically and personally, to help others turn their dreams into thriving businesses. Receiving this scholarship would lift some of the financial pressure I carry and allow me to focus more deeply on honing my craft and completing my degree with confidence. More than that, it would affirm that someone believes in the work I want to do and the impact I want to make. Marketing is not just my career choice; it is my mission. I am not entering this field for status or prestige. I am here to lead with empathy, inspire change, and prove that even the most underestimated voices can be the loudest ones in the room when given the chance.

Golf has impacted every part of my life, emotionally, mentally, and professionally. For me, it has never been just a sport. It has been my safe space, my discipline, my purpose, and my lifeline. I grew up in a household where support was nonexistent, and belief in my potential was absent. My family didn’t believe women should pursue careers, go to school, or think independently. I was told daily that I was worthless, that I would fail, and that my dreams were foolish. But golf gave me something that no one else around me did: belief. Every swing, every round, every moment I spent on the course was a quiet rebellion against everything I was told I couldn’t be. It taught me resilience, patience, and focus in a world that felt determined to shake my confidence. Playing golf competitively showed me how to push through discomfort, manage pressure, and control my mindset. It’s where I learned to lead with poise and keep showing up even when I felt like giving up. As a woman of color in a male-dominated sport, I’ve faced countless moments where I felt overlooked or underestimated. But instead of stepping back, I stepped up, and golf gave me the tools to keep doing that every single day. Currently, I am a student-athlete at the University of Texas at Dallas, competing on the collegiate golf team while double-majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. Balancing school, work, and golf is not easy. I work two jobs to support myself and do not receive academic aid because of the transfer portal, but my commitment to this sport and my education has never wavered. I’ve had to fight for every resource, every opportunity, and every moment I spend on the course, and I carry that fight with me into everything I do. I do not plan to stop playing golf. I see this sport as a lifelong commitment, not just to competition but to mentorship and community. My goal is to work in the business side of the sports or golf industry, using my education and experience to improve accessibility, diversity, and opportunity in the game. I want to be part of expanding the golf world for those who come from backgrounds like mine, where playing a sport like this might seem out of reach. This scholarship would not just support my financial journey through college. It would be a reminder that my story matters, that athletes from lower socioeconomic backgrounds belong in golf, and that someone out there believes in my potential — just like I believe in the next generation that I hope to inspire. Golf has already changed my life. I plan to use it to change others’ lives, too.

My name is Syrah Javed, and I am an undergraduate student at the University of Texas at Dallas. I am a double major in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. But more than anything, I am a lifelong learner. My love of learning has been my lifeline. It has carried me through some of the darkest moments of my life, and it continues to guide my purpose, shape my resilience, and fuel my future. I did not grow up in a supportive environment. In my household, curiosity was discouraged, independence was punished, and education was viewed as a waste of time, especially for women. I was told that my place was in the background, that I was not smart enough to succeed, and that women did not belong in classrooms, boardrooms, or anywhere outside the home. But something deep inside me refused to accept that. I did not just want to learn, I needed to. Learning became my rebellion, my escape, and my form of healing. Every new topic I studied gave me a piece of myself back. In high school, I would sneak extra books into my room just to study quietly. I fell in love with business because it gave me the power to build, to create, and to imagine a future that was bigger than my circumstances. When I started exploring Artificial Intelligence, it opened my mind to what is possible when curiosity meets innovation. I started seeing learning not just as a path to success but as a tool for transformation, in myself and in my community. Outside the classroom, I kept feeding that curiosity. I volunteered over 150 hours at the North Texas Food Bank, learning about food insecurity and the systems that create inequality. I made handmade jewelry for little girls in homeless shelters, learning how the smallest gestures can restore a sense of dignity and joy. I took on two jobs in college to support myself, learning about financial independence, responsibility, and grit. I have learned not just from lectures and textbooks but from real life, from falling and getting back up, from being doubted and proving people wrong, from living in survival mode and still choosing to dream. That, to me, is what a true love of learning looks like. It is not about getting the best grades or always having the answers, it is about staying curious, staying open, and staying hungry to grow. This passion has completely shaped my outlook on life. I see challenges as opportunities to learn, not reasons to quit. I have developed a growth mindset that helps me see failure as feedback and success as something I define for myself. I no longer measure my worth by other people’s expectations. I know who I am because of what I have learned and what I continue to seek. In the future, I want to use this passion to uplift others. My dream is to create a community-centered business that not only provides services but also educates and empowers underserved communities. I want to host workshops, mentor young women, and use technology to create solutions that make life easier for those struggling to get by. Learning changed my life, and I want to help others discover the same power. This scholarship would help me keep learning, keep leading, and keep building a future where curiosity, compassion, and courage can coexist. Like Ross, I believe life is meant to be explored fully. And I plan to keep exploring, for me and for everyone who was once told they could not.

My name is Syrah Javed, and I’m a first-generation college student currently attending the University of Texas at Dallas. I’m double majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I’m also a student-athlete on the UTD women’s golf team, and I work two jobs while managing my academic and athletic responsibilities. My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s shaped me into a strong, disciplined woman who is determined to make a positive impact on the world. Growing up, I was constantly surrounded by negativity. My parents openly believed that women didn’t belong in the workforce or higher education. They would regularly tell me that I wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, or capable of achieving anything on my own. I was reminded almost daily that my future would amount to nothing. I was raised to feel like my worth depended on how well I could serve others — especially men. This emotional burden wasn’t something I could escape, but it was something I chose to fight against. Despite the lack of emotional or financial support at home, I pushed forward. I focused on school, sports, and community service — not because it was expected of me, but because I needed something to believe in. Golf became my safe space. It gave me the emotional discipline, focus, and mental toughness that I didn’t even know I had. On the course, I wasn’t just playing a sport — I was reclaiming control over my life. Throughout high school, I also volunteered over 150 hours at the North Texas Food Bank, packaging and distributing food to families in need. I witnessed firsthand how devastating food insecurity could be — and how something as simple as a box of groceries could restore dignity and hope. I also made handmade jewelry for young girls in homeless shelters. I knew how it felt to grow up unseen and unheard, and I wanted to give those girls a reminder that they mattered — that someone out there cared. These moments helped me understand what leadership really meant: showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable or hard, and giving more than you take. Now in college, I continue to carry that same mindset. I work two jobs to cover living expenses, housing, and school-related costs. I don’t receive academic or need-based aid — only a small portion of athletic support — so every paycheck, every shift, and every hour of practice means something. The pressure can be overwhelming, but I remind myself that I’m not just working for myself — I’m working for the future I want to create. Through my career, I plan to make a meaningful impact in my community. I want to use my degrees in business and AI to launch a community-centered organization focused on job creation, financial literacy, and food security. I want to host charity events and mentorship programs, provide meals for underserved households, and create safe, empowering spaces for young women of color. I believe everyone deserves the right to opportunity — and no one should have to fight as hard as I did just to be seen. This scholarship would not only help ease my financial burden, but it would also serve as a symbol of belief — belief that students like me, who come from hardship but are filled with purpose, deserve the chance to lead and make a difference. I am not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a hand up — so I can keep rising and lifting others with me.

My name is Syrah Javed, and I’m a first-generation college student currently attending the University of Texas at Dallas. I’m double majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I’m also a student-athlete on the UTD women’s golf team, and I work two jobs while managing my academic and athletic responsibilities. My journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s shaped me into a strong, disciplined woman who is determined to make a positive impact on the world. Growing up, I was constantly surrounded by negativity. My parents openly believed that women didn’t belong in the workforce or higher education. They would regularly tell me that I wasn’t smart enough, strong enough, or capable of achieving anything on my own. I was reminded almost daily that my future would amount to nothing. I was raised to feel like my worth depended on how well I could serve others ,especially men. This emotional burden wasn’t something I could escape, but it was something I chose to fight against. Despite the lack of emotional or financial support at home, I pushed forward. I focused on school, sports, and community service ,not because it was expected of me, but because I needed something to believe in. Golf became my safe space. It gave me the emotional discipline, focus, and mental toughness that I didn’t even know I had. On the course, I wasn’t just playing a sport, I was reclaiming control over my life. Throughout high school, I also volunteered over 150 hours at the North Texas Food Bank, packaging and distributing food to families in need. I witnessed firsthand how devastating food insecurity could be,and how something as simple as a box of groceries could restore dignity and hope. I also made handmade jewelry for young girls in homeless shelters. I knew how it felt to grow up unseen and unheard, and I wanted to give those girls a reminder that they mattered ,that someone out there cared. These moments helped me understand what leadership really meant: showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable or hard, and giving more than you take. Now in college, I continue to carry that same mindset. I work two jobs to cover living expenses, housing, and school-related costs. I don’t receive academic or need-based aid ,only a small portion of athletic support ,so every paycheck, every shift, and every hour of practice means something. The pressure can be overwhelming, but I remind myself that I’m not just working for myself, I’m working for the future I want to create. Through my career, I plan to make a meaningful impact in my community. I want to use my degrees in business and AI to launch a community-centered organization focused on job creation, financial literacy, and food security. I want to host charity events and mentorship programs, provide meals for underserved households, and create safe, empowering spaces for young women of color. I believe everyone deserves the right to opportunity ,and no one should have to fight as hard as I did just to be seen. This scholarship would not only help ease my financial burden, but it would also serve as a symbol of belief — belief that students like me, who come from hardship but are filled with purpose, deserve the chance to lead and make a difference. I am not asking for a handout. I’m asking for a hand up ,so I can keep rising and lifting others with me.

Giving up has never been an option for me, even on the days when it felt easier. I was raised in a home that should have made me feel safe and supported, but instead, it became the first place I had to survive. My parents didn’t believe in education, especially not for women. They believed women only existed to serve men and that my dreams, ambitions, and independence were worthless. Every day I was reminded that I wouldn’t make it, that I would fail, and that I wasn’t enough. They didn’t just discourage me ,they hoped for my failure. That kind of environment didn’t just hurt. It broke me down emotionally, piece by piece. But somewhere deep inside me, something refused to give in. I told myself that I would be the one to break the cycle. That I would prove that girls like me who are constantly told they don’t belong ,can rise and lead. I’m now a first-generation college student at the University of Texas at Dallas. I’m double majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I am a full-time student-athlete on the golf team and I currently work two jobs to support myself financially. I pay for my own housing, food, and school expenses without help. The pressure is nonstop, and the emotional burden from my past still lingers. But I’ve learned to turn that pain into fuel. Every time I feel like quitting, I remind myself how far I’ve come ,not just academically, but personally. My family struggles were never just financial , they were emotional and mental. Growing up in a home where love felt conditional and dreams were dismissed made me doubt myself constantly. I still struggle with self-worth and anxiety, but I fight it daily with every class I pass, every shift I work, and every challenge I overcome. That is what resilience looks like for me, not pretending to be okay, but choosing to keep going even when I’m not. Leadership, to me, means showing up,especially when no one else does. I’ve completed over 150 volunteer hours at the North Texas Food Bank, where I helped distribute food to struggling families. I’ve made handmade jewelry for little girls in homeless shelters so they could feel special, even just for a moment. I’ve used my own pain to reach others in theirs, and that is the kind of impact I want to continue making. My dream is to lead and serve with purpose. I want to help reduce food insecurity and homelessness in my community. I want to host charity events, build safe spaces, and remind people that they matter ,especially those who feel invisible. I want to be the kind of leader I never had growing up. I may not come from a place of privilege or support, but I come from struggle, and that struggle shaped me into someone who refuses to give up. I will continue to lead, to grow, and to fight for the better world I believe in, one act of service at a time.

Community has never been something I was handed; it’s something I had to build on my own. I grew up in a household where love, support, and encouragement were missing. My parents didn’t believe in education, especially not for women. I was told constantly that I would fail, that my dreams were useless, and that I wasn’t meant to lead or succeed. For a long time, I believed them. But when I stepped into my community, everything started to change. I began volunteering with the North Texas Food Bank in Commerce, Texas, where I’ve completed over 150 hours of service. I packed and distributed food to families who were facing hunger, some of them single mothers, children, and elderly people who reminded me of how easily we overlook those who struggle quietly. It showed me the value of showing up. Sometimes hope is a box of food handed over with dignity and a smile. Another moment that shaped me was when I started making handmade jewelry for little girls in homeless shelters. I knew what it felt like to feel invisible, so I made each piece with the hope that it might make one girl feel special, even just for a moment. I wanted them to know they were seen, that they mattered, and that someone believed in their worth. These acts weren’t about checking boxes. They were about healing, for myself and others. I didn’t grow up with a strong community, but I’ve learned how to create one and how to be part of one. It’s given me hope that even when the people closest to you don’t believe in you, others will. Now, I’m a full-time student-athlete at the University of Texas at Dallas, double-majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I work two jobs and carry the full weight of my financial and academic journey on my own. But I carry it proudly, because I know who I’m doing it for. In the future, I want to lead efforts that help reduce homelessness, host charity events, and support local shelters and food banks. I believe everyone deserves the basic dignity of a meal and a safe place to sleep. No one should have to wonder where their next meal will come from, especially not in a world with so much potential for kindness and shared responsibility. I believe in what Sweet Hut and Food Terminal stand for. Like them, I want to create safe, welcoming spaces that bring people together and lift them up. I want to continue using kindness, resilience, and community to lead with purpose and make a lasting difference, not just in my own life, but in the lives of others who need hope.

Before I begin, I would like to respectfully acknowledge that I do not come from a single-parent household, and I understand that this essay prompt was intended for those who do. I apologize for stepping outside the exact eligibility, but I felt compelled to write and apply because Iliana Arie Velez’s story moved me deeply. Her strength, light, and resilience reflect everything I’ve fought to build within myself. This is not just an essay — it’s my truth. My name is Syrah Javed. I’m a first-generation college student at the University of Texas at Dallas, double-majoring in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence. I’m also a full-time student-athlete on the golf team and currently work two jobs to support myself completely. While I was raised in a two-parent household, I was not raised in love. I grew up in an environment where women were expected to stay silent, serve men, and never pursue education or independence. My parents constantly told me I was worthless. That I would fail. That I would never make it. Every time I took a step forward, I was reminded it wouldn’t matter. They believed women like me should stay home, not chase degrees, careers, or dreams. Their prayers weren’t for my success — they were for my downfall. But I chose to rise. Golf became my freedom. It gave me the strength to keep going when everything else around me felt like it was designed to break me. It taught me how to focus, how to breathe, and how to believe in myself even when no one else did. I carry that strength into every class I take, every shift I work, and every quiet moment when I feel the pressure to give up. Reading about Iliana’s journey made me feel seen. Her drive, her passions, her ability to carry responsibilities beyond her years — I see pieces of her in me. I, too, know what it means to carry burdens that aren’t fair. I, too, have chosen to keep going with fire in my chest and dreams that refuse to die. I want to make a difference in the world by building the future I was never given. I want to use my education to start something of my own, empower other young women, and create space for voices like Iliana’s — and mine — to thrive. I want to show girls who are told they’re too small, too weak, or too broken that they are more than enough. Iliana said, “You got this.” And now, I carry those words with me too.

Golf has never just been a sport for me , it’s been a lifeline. In a life filled with pressure, fear, and emotional pain, golf has been the one space where I feel powerful, in control, and at peace. It’s where I proved to myself that I am more than what I was told I’d be.

I was raised in a household where women are expected to stay silent, serve men, and never think independently. My parents openly believe that women are only valuable for their ability to please men and raise children. They do not think women should work, go to school, or have their own lives. I was told every day that I was worthless. That I would fail. That I wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, or good enough to make anything of myself. Even now, they pray for me to fail. They remind me regularly that I will never succeed without them, that my efforts are pointless, and that my future is already doomed.

But I refused to let their beliefs define me.

I am now a first-generation college student, studying as a double major in Marketing and Supply Chain Management with a concentration in Artificial Intelligence at the University of Texas at Dallas. I’m a full-time student-athlete on the golf team, and I currently work two jobs to support myself financially. I don’t receive academic or need-based aid – only athletic support. Every textbook, every meal, every night of housing is something I fight for and earn on my own. There is no safety net for me. The pressure is constant, and the mental toll is real. I battle imposter syndrome, burnout, and anxiety almost every day. It’s hard knowing that if I stumble, there’s no one to catch me. My parents don’t cheer me on – they wait for me to fall so they can say, “I told you so.”

And yet, I still rise because golf taught me how.

On the course, I found space to breathe. Golf gave me discipline, emotional control, patience, and the ability to refocus under pressure. I found strength in walking into male-dominated tournaments and holding my own. I found confidence in my swing, in my decisions, in my pace. Golf helped me build mental toughness that I now carry into every classroom, every job, and every confrontation with the people who once told me I’d never make it.

As a woman of color in a traditionally male-dominated sport, I know how rare it is to be seen and supported. That’s why this scholarship means more than just money to me. It’s validation. It’s a reminder that there are people out there who believe women like me do belong, not just in golf, but in the workplace, in leadership, and power.

I want to use my voice and my story to inspire other young women, especially those who are told they’re too emotional, too weak, or too different to succeed. I want them to know that they can walk onto a course, a campus, or a boardroom and claim space confidently. I want to show them that no matter what anyone says, they are not limited by where they came from.

Golf saved my mindset, and my mindset is what’s building my future. This scholarship would help ease the financial burden I carry alone and allow me to keep pushing forward, both on the course and beyond it.