I want the world to embrace parchita as much as it does apples. At 17 years old, I received my autism diagnosis. The doctor conducting my assessment told me, “You’re an orange, in a world full of apples.” He said, “Sure, you’re a different color, taste, texture, but even beyond that, the world you live in is made for apples. Not oranges.” He went on, explaining that I had spent the last 17 years of my life trying so hard to be a good apple, not realizing I was an orange. The whole time I was thinking, “I don’t even like oranges that much… and the world is made for humans, not fruit with identity issues.” Now, one fruit I do like is parchita, or passion fruit. Parchita is tropical, sweet, and uniquely tart, mirroring my life as an autistic Latina. A bit too bitter for some, or texturally overwhelming with crunchy seeds, but perfect in an agua fresca on a hot summer day. Parchita is a flip of perspective in a world of apples. As I grew in my self-understanding, I recognized that there were thousands of different “fruits” in my community, all with differently-abled and functioning minds. From this discovery, I developed an obsession with the word “intersectionality.” Much of my previous research has engaged my intersectional identities: a spiritual self while exploring qualitative accounts of transcendence, an autistic self presenting recent findings on masking, and a multicultural self examining non-Western and Indigenous storytelling for disability-accommodating web design. Though these experiences have shown a glimpse into my multidisciplinary nature, I have never had the opportunity to study at the crux of this trifold self. Through a PhD in Clinical Psychology, I aim to develop research on how spiritual agency, culture, and neurodivergence shape mental health trajectories in autistic and other neurodivergent youth from marginalized communities. I hope to pair this work with rigorous clinical training to design, test, and implement culturally and spiritually responsive interventions in schools, clinics, and community settings. My research experience has been richly diverse in the past three years of college, and has directly informed my goals in a multitude of ways. In my freshman year, I participated as a principal investigator for Pepperdine’s Research Symposium. I presented significant findings of anxiety, identity concerns, and other negative associations in autistic individuals who participated in masking. During my work as a qualitative analyst, I studied over 300 IRB-approved participants and analyzed their responses over sixteen different coding structures. While coding, I noticed limitations in our predominantly white sample. I presented this gap to one of my colleagues, and we began to develop a section of the presentation that called for further research within racially diverse autistic populations. These personal and research experiences have shown me how profoundly mental health is shaped by whether a person’s full self is seen, understood, and supported. Living at the intersection of autism, Latina identity, and faith, I have witnessed both the harm of mistuned care and the healing that comes from culturally and spiritually responsive support. It is this desire to transform my own and my community’s experiences—from feeling like the “wrong fruit” in an apple-centric world to being fully embraced as parchita—that has driven me to pursue a degree related to mental health.

It seems a gross understatement to say that coping with my already intense anxiety during COVID has been challenging. Piled on top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I was under the almost constant attack of overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking and self-harmful movement, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. In the amplified traumas of those eighteen months, I began to reflect on how I had always struggled with the same fundamental things. Social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyper-focused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. I began to ask my mother what I was like as a child, and she recounted stories of my intense sensitivity, crying on the streets of NYC, that “there was a needle in my sock” when really it was a strand of hair. I was so deep in an ever-persistent pang of panic that I turned to reckless decisions to fill the void of my anxiety-filled emptiness. Looking for a way out of this abyss, I turned to research, and a possible diagnosis: ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have always been obsessed with reading and doing research. Finding articles like “Understanding the social experiences of adolescent females on the autism spectrum” or “Understanding and recognizing the female phenotype of autism spectrum disorder and the 'camouflage hypothesis” fascinated me. I was drawn to this possibility of having an answer to why I was suffering so much. With the support of my parents, I sought a diagnosis. I wish I could end the story here, by saying I was quickly diagnosed, extremely relieved, and went on with my life. However, countless obstacles seemed to pop up in my quest for answers. A 70-year-old white male doctor said I was “too good” at socializing to be autistic, even though I checked every other box. He didn’t recognize the time I spent perfecting conversation points before our meeting. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I was finally diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. With the support of family, friends, and doctors that cared, I finally had a guiding path for my healing. Post-COVID has been an incredible time of growth in all aspects of my life. I have learned to understand how to be accommodating and patient with my limitations, while also celebrating my gifts and skills. Beyond the growth in coping with difficulties, I have also found ways to celebrate my disability as a way to educate others. As Pepperdine University celebrated Disability Awareness Week, I spoke on Neurodiversity 101 in front of fifty students and faculty. Speaking from experience and years of education, I taught many people basic language and myths about Neurodiversity that they were unaware of. A few weeks later, I received the good news that a paper I co-wrote with our school's 2023 Valedictorian was getting published in a well-respected journal. This paper was all about the negative effects of masking, or hiding autistic traits to appear more socially acceptable in our neurotypical world. As I learned how to embrace my multi-faceted identity, I began to share the value of seeing my disability as a gift with others around me. I hope to use this passion and commit myself to learning by getting my PhD in clinical child psychology, and serve communities of people like me.

When I was six years old, my mom would ask me, “Mamita, what do you want to do when you get a job?” I would often reply to her with something like, “I want to be a mom and a teacher, or a nurse, or a ballerina, or…” I would list profession after profession until my mother became tired of my rambling. Transitioning to middle school, I would often complain to friends that I was "mediocre at everything I did", an insecurity that came with me into high school. I felt that I had little to offer when my mind was so fascinated with many intersectional aspects of learning and education. Coming into college, I realized that so much of my education was just that: intersectional, dynamic, and multilayered. Studying “psychology” didn’t have to end with understanding Freud or Jung, or Maslow, but could go as far as critical race theory, feminist literature, masking in autism, and death rituals across cultures. Finally understanding that my own intersectional interest could easily translate to the world of psychology intrigued me and allowed me to formulate what I wanted to do as an adult post-college. A title I have grown comfortable with using as an answer to the age-old, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” question is, “clinical child psychology.” I am deeply passionate about my calling to serve underrepresented communities and use my psychology education to empathize and conduct research in the realm of disability, Autism, neurodiversity, and education. This scholarship will not only support my financial stability while balancing an unpaid internship, but also assist in solidifying my purpose of advocacy, education, and research. I plan on continuing to give back to my community in a mentorship and counseling manner at every step of my educational and professional career. I see a better world as a place where people learn to take advantage of the plasticity of their minds and learn to discern their morals and truth. While everyone else in my high school was skipping classes by going to concerts, warehouse parties in Brooklyn, or clubs, I decided to spend my year teaching in an underfunded elementary school. I served as an assistant teacher for the school’s infrastructure reuse program for the past two years. We taught students about the value of reusable architecture in the city and how to be engaged citizens in their communities. In my second year, a gifted young boy named Edward Harvey seemed different than the year prior. He was shy, kept to himself, wouldn’t talk to anyone, and had a rough time working with others. Later in the class, we noticed that he would either rip or cut up any artwork that he made because he thought “it wasn’t good enough.” We did our best to console & usher him in a more self-loving direction, but nothing worked. We found out that he was being bullied by some of the older students, so my coworker and I came up with a solution to have Edward have his own space, slightly distanced from the larger rambunctious group, but still included in the class. We comforted him through moments when he could not communicate with words and patiently sat with him while he did art at his own table, away from the sensory overload of the rest of the class. He drastically changed before our eyes and became known in class for the series of hugs he would give to the teachers when it was time to dismiss. Edward taught me how valuable it was to not be like everyone else and invest my time in something good and perfect: service. Every week after that, he would give me three or four hugs at the end of class, and say “Thank you, Thalia.” I hope to graduate with a PhD in child and adolescent clinical psychology, and working as a psychologist, I plan on donating some of my time to those same schools I taught in. In the future, I have a dream of starting a public school that highlights neurodiverse and gifted learning curricula that appeal to not just one neurotype. As a result of service being a part of what transforms me, it is ingrained in every step of my journey. These avenues of service and purpose, both academically and professionally, are important to me, as I am an autistic student who was often denied accommodations and support before coming to college. Now that I have the vocabulary and the tools to stand up for myself and voice my needs, I want to be able to use my education to teach others that as well. I plan to achieve my goals through opportunities such as these, by hustling, working hard, and remembering my roots.

When I was six years old my mom would ask me, “Mamita, what do you want to do when you get a job?” I would often reply to her with something like, “I want to be a mom and a teacher, or a nurse, or a ballerina, or…” I would list profession after profession until my mother became tired of my rambling. Transitioning to middle school, I would often complain to friends that I was "mediocre at everything I did", an insecurity that came with me into high school. Coping with intense anxiety during COVID was extremely challenging. On top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I experienced overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking, self-harmful movements, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. Reflecting on those traumatic eighteen months, I had to practice humility by admitting I had always struggled with social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyperfocused interests, repetitive behaviors, and an obsession with structure and order, which I had masked to be socially acceptable. Seeking a diagnosis, I turned to research on ASD (Autism Spectrum Disorder), I self-cataloged the various symptoms and difficulties I faced and was open, but fearful of the diagnosis. However, countless obstacles seemed to pop up in my quest for answers. One older doctor claimed that I was “too good” at socializing, or “too kind” to be autistic, even though I checked every other box. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I finally found a healthcare provider I trusted and respected. I was diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and ASD. This process was arduous and painful, but I know that my courage propelled me into a woman confident in all facets of my identity. Coming into college I realized that so much of my education was just that: intersectional, dynamic, and multilayered. Studying “psychology” didn’t have to end with understanding Freud or Jung, or Maslow, but could go as far as critical race theory, feminist literature, masking in autism, and death rituals across cultures. Finally understanding that my own intersectional interest could easily translate to the world of psychology intrigued me and allowed me to formulate what I wanted to do as an adult post-college. A title I have grown comfortable with using as an answer to the age-old, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” question is, “clinical child psychology.” I am deeply passionate about my calling to serve underrepresented communities and use my psychology education to empathize and conduct research in the realm of disability, Autism, neurodiversity, and education. This scholarship will not only support my financial stability while balancing an unpaid internship, but also assist in solidifying my purpose of advocacy, education, and research. I plan to continue giving back to my community through mentorship and counseling at every step of my educational and professional career. After graduating with a P.h.D in child and adolescent clinical psychology and working as a psychologist, I have a dream of starting a public school that highlights neurodiverse learning curriculums that appeal to not just one neurotype. These avenues of service and purpose both academically and professionally are important to me, as I am an autistic student who was often denied accommodations and support before coming to college. Now that I have the vocabulary and the tools to stand up for myself and voice my needs, I want to be able to use my education to teach others that as well. I plan to achieve my goals through opportunities such as these, by hustling, working hard, and remembering my roots.

It seems a gross understatement to say that coping with my already intense anxiety during COVID has been a challenge. Piled on top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I was under the almost constant attack of overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking and self-harmful movement, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. In the amplified traumas of those eighteen months, I began to reflect on how I had always struggled with the same fundamental things. Social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyperfocused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. I began to ask my mother what I was like as a child, she recounted stories of my intense sensitivity, crying on the streets of NYC that “there was a needle in my sock” when it was a strand of hair. I was so deep in an ever-persistent pang of panic that I turned to reckless decisions to fill the void of my anxiety-filled emptiness. Looking for a way out of this abyss, I turned to research, and a possible diagnosis; ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have always been obsessed with reading and doing research. Finding articles like, “Understanding the social experiences of adolescent females on the autism spectrum” or “Understanding and recognizing the female phenotype of autism spectrum disorder and the “Camouflage” hypothesis” fascinated me, I was drawn to this possibility of having an answer to why I was suffering so much. With the support of my parents, I sought a diagnosis. I wish I could end the story here, by saying I was quickly diagnosed, extremely relieved, and went on with my life. However, countless obstacles seemed to pop up in my quest for answers. A 70-year-old white male doctor said that I was “too good” at socializing to be autistic, even though I checked every other box. He didn’t recognize the time I spent perfecting conversation points before our meeting. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I was finally diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. With the support of family, friends, and doctors who cared, I finally had a guiding path for my healing. Post-COVID has been an incredible time of growth in all aspects of my life. I have learned to understand how to be accommodating and patient with my limitations, while also celebrating my gifts and skills. In this past calendar year, I have had no panic attacks and minimal sensory overloads, and I am finally finding a way to be my authentic, unapologetic self. I am deeply passionate about my calling to serve underrepresented communities and use my psychology education to empathize and conduct research in the realm of disability, Autism, neurodiversity, and education. This scholarship will not only support my financial stability while balancing an unpaid internship, but also assist in solidifying my purpose of advocacy, education, and research. I plan on continuing to give back to my community in a mentorship and counseling manner at every step of my educational and professional career. After graduating with a P.h.D in child and adolescent clinical psychology and working as a psychologist, I plan on donating some of my time to those same schools I taught in. In the future, I have a dream of starting a public school that highlights neurodiverse learning curriculums that appeal to not just one neurotype. As a result of service being a part of what transforms me, it is ingrained in every step of my journey. These avenues of service and purpose both academically and professionally are important to me, as I am an autistic student who was often denied accommodations and support before coming to college. Now that I have the vocabulary and the tools to stand up for myself and voice my needs, I want to be able to use my education to teach others that as well. I plan to achieve my goals through opportunities such as these, by hustling, working hard, and remembering my roots.

It seems a gross understatement to say that coping with my already intense anxiety during COVID has been a challenge. Piled on top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I was under the almost constant attack of overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking and self-harmful movement, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. In the amplified traumas of those eighteen months, I began to reflect on how I had always struggled with the same fundamental things. Social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyperfocused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. I began to ask my mother what I was like as a child, she recounted stories of my intense sensitivity, crying on the streets of NYC that “there was a needle in my sock” when it was a strand of hair. I was so deep in an ever-persistent pang of panic that I turned to reckless decisions to fill the void of my anxiety-filled emptiness. Looking for a way out of this abyss, I turned to research, and a possible diagnosis; ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have always been obsessed with reading and doing research. Finding articles like, “Understanding the social experiences of adolescent females on the autism spectrum” or “Understanding and recognizing the female phenotype of autism spectrum disorder and the “Camouflage” hypothesis” fascinated me, I was drawn to this possibility of having an answer to why I was suffering so much. With the support of my parents, I sought a diagnosis. I wish I could end the story here, by saying I was quickly diagnosed, extremely relieved, and went on with my life. However, countless obstacles seemed to pop up in my quest for answers. A 70-year-old white male doctor said that I was “too good” at socializing to be autistic, even though I checked every other box. He didn’t recognize the time I spent perfecting conversation points before our meeting. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I was finally diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. With the support of family, friends, and doctors who cared, I finally had a guiding path for my healing. Post-COVID has been an incredible time of growth in all aspects of my life. I have learned to understand how to be accommodating and patient with my limitations, while also celebrating my gifts and skills. In this past calendar year, I have had no panic attacks and minimal sensory overloads, and I am finally finding a way to be my authentic, unapologetic self. I am deeply passionate about my calling to serve underrepresented communities and use my psychology education to empathize and conduct research in disability, Autism, neurodiversity, and education. I plan to continue giving back to my community through mentorship and counseling at every step of my educational and professional career. After graduating with a P.h.D in child and adolescent clinical psychology, I have a dream of starting a public school that highlights neurodiverse learning curriculums that appeal to not just one neurotype. As a result of service being a part of what transforms me, it is ingrained in every step of my journey. I am an autistic student who was often denied accommodations and support before coming to college. Now that I have the vocabulary and the tools to self-advocate, I want to use my education to teach others that as well. I plan to achieve my goals through scholarship opportunities, hustling, working hard, and always remembering my roots.

When I was six years old my mom would ask me, “Mamita, what do you want to do when you get a job?” I would often reply to her with something like, “I want to be a mom and a teacher, or a nurse, or a ballerina, or…” I would list profession after profession until my mother became tired of my rambling. Transitioning to middle school, I would often complain to friends that I was "mediocre at everything I did", an insecurity that came with me into high school. I felt that I had little to offer when my mind was so fascinated with many intersectional aspects of learning and education. Coming into college I realized that so much of my education was just that: intersectional, dynamic, and multilayered. Studying “psychology” didn’t have to end with understanding Freud or Jung, or Maslow, but could go as far as critical race theory, feminist literature, masking in autism, and death rituals across cultures. Finally understanding that my own intersectional interest could easily translate to the world of psychology intrigued me and allowed me to formulate what I wanted to do as an adult post-college. A title I have grown comfortable with using as an answer to the age-old, “What do you want to do when you grow up?” question is, “clinical child psychology.” I am deeply passionate about my calling to serve underrepresented communities and use my psychology education to empathize and conduct research in the realm of disability, Autism, neurodiversity, and education. This scholarship will not only support my financial stability while attending once-in-a-lifetime study-abroad opportunities, but also assist in solidifying my advocacy, education, and research purpose. I plan on continuing to give back to my community in a mentorship and counseling manner at every step of my educational and professional career. After graduating with a P.h.D in child and adolescent clinical psychology and working as a psychologist, I plan on donating some of my time to those same schools I taught in. In the future, I have a dream of starting a public school that highlights neurodiverse learning curriculums that appeal to not just one neurotype. As a result of service being a part of what transforms me, it is ingrained in every step of my journey. These avenues of service and purpose both academically and professionally are important to me, as I am an autistic student who was often denied accommodations and support before coming to college. Now that I have the vocabulary and the tools to stand up for myself and voice my needs, I want to be able to use my education to teach others that as well. I plan to achieve my goals through opportunities such as these, by hustling, working hard, and remembering my roots. With all of those factors in place, financial support is the last piece of the puzzle. Thank you for your support in my education.

It seems a gross understatement to say that coping with my already intense anxiety during COVID has been a challenge. Piled on top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I was under the almost constant attack of overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking and self-harmful movement, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. In the amplified traumas of those eighteen months, I began to reflect on how I had always struggled with the same fundamental things. Social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyperfocused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. I began to ask my mother what I was like as a child, she recounted stories of my intense sensitivity, crying on the streets of NYC that “there was a needle in my sock” when it was a strand of hair. I was so deep in an ever-persistent pang of panic that I turned to reckless decisions to fill the void of my anxiety-filled emptiness. Looking for a way out of this abyss, I turned to research, and a possible diagnosis; ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have always been obsessed with reading and doing research. Finding articles like, “Understanding the Social Experiences of adolescent females on the autism spectrum” or “Understanding and recognizing the female phenotype of autism spectrum disorder and the “Camouflage” Hypothesis” fascinated me, I was drawn to this possibility of having an answer to why I was suffering so much. With the support of my parents, I sought a diagnosis. I wish I could end the story here, by saying I was quickly diagnosed, extremely relieved, and went on with my life. However, countless obstacles seemed to pop up in my quest for answers. A 70-year-old white male doctor said that I was “too good” at socializing to be autistic, even though I checked every other box. He didn’t recognize the time I spent perfecting conversation points before our meeting. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I was finally diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. With the support of family, friends, and doctors who cared, I finally had a guiding path for my healing. Post-COVID has been an incredible time of growth in all aspects of my life. I have learned to understand how to be accommodating and patient with my limitations while celebrating my gifts and skills. In this past calendar year, I have had no panic attacks and minimal sensory overloads, and I am finally finding a way to be my authentic, unapologetic self. Today I see those years of my life not as adversity, but as triumph. I am proud of the woman I have become, and I find that I learn more about myself and my mission each year. I would give a young girl facing confusion and anxiety in her neurological identity the wisdom and advice to find a safe space. It took me years to identify who around me was reliable, trustworthy, and safe to be vulnerable with. Once I did find my circle of friends, mentors, and confidants I felt more free to be myself and challenge the stereotypes facing me.

It seems a gross understatement to say that coping with my already intense anxiety during COVID was challenging. Piled on top of the virus, riots, and looting outside my Manhattan window, I was under the almost constant attack of overwhelming stress, manifesting in repetitive rocking and self-harmful movement, blurry vision, hallucinations, difficulty breathing, and crippling claustrophobia. In the amplified traumas of those eighteen months, I began to reflect on how I had always struggled with the same fundamental things. Social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyper-focused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. I began to ask my mother what I was like as a child, she recounted stories of my intense sensitivity, crying on the streets of NYC that “there was a needle in my sock” when it was a strand of hair. I was so deep in an ever-persistent pang of panic that I turned to reckless decisions to fill the void of my anxiety-filled emptiness. Looking for a way out of this abyss, I turned to research, and a possible diagnosis; ASD, or Autism Spectrum Disorder. I have always been obsessed with reading and doing research. Finding articles like, “Understanding the social experiences of adolescent females on the autism spectrum” or “Understanding and recognizing the female phenotype of autism spectrum disorder and the “camouflage hypothesis” fascinated me. I was drawn to this possibility of having an answer to why I was suffering so much. With the support of my parents, I sought a diagnosis. After a year of insurance issues and ignorant professionals, I was finally diagnosed with a sensory processing disorder, panic disorder, and Autism Spectrum Disorder. With the support of family, friends, and doctors who cared, I finally had a guiding path towards recovering my mental health. Post-COVID has been an incredible time of growth in all aspects of my life. I have learned to understand how to be accommodating and patient with my limitations, while also celebrating my gifts and skills. In this past calendar year, I have had no panic attacks and minimal sensory overloads, and I am finally finding a way to be my authentic, unapologetic self. Beyond the growth in coping with difficulties, I have also found ways to celebrate my disability as a way to educate others. University has allowed me to educate myself through psychology classes, as well as educate others. As Pepperdine University celebrated Disability Awareness Week, I spoke on Neurodiversity 101 in front of fifty students and faculty. Speaking from experience and years of education, I taught many people basic language and myths about Neurodiversity that they were not aware of. A few weeks later, I received the good news that a paper I co-wrote, with our school's 2023 Valedictorian, was getting published in a well-respected journal. This paper was all about the negative effects of masking, or hiding autistic traits for appearing more socially acceptable in our neurotypical world. As I learned how to embrace my multi-faceted identity, I began to share the value of seeing my disability as a gift with others around me. This groundwork of research, advocacy, and education has led me to develop my dreams for a future career. I hope to serve my community of New York City as a child clinical psychologist for disabled and neurodivergent youth. I cannot wait to guide, teach, and support young students of color in urban areas, providing them with the same answers that changed my life.

My major is Psychology, and my dream for many years has been to serve my community of New York City as a child clinical psychologist for disabled and neurodivergent youth. I hope to cater to young students of color in urban areas, as this was the basis of my story. Growing up in a bustling city I often reflected on how social interactions, sensory sensitivities, hyper-focused interests, repetitive behavior, and a general obsession with structure and order were things that I had masked to be socially acceptable to the world. Feeling outcast and different from those who processed seamlessly around me, I sought a diagnosis. At 17, being diagnosed as autistic helped me gain confidence in my identity, learn ways to cope with a world that wasn't made for me, and develop a deep desire to be an advocate for others in my position. With financial support and guidance from scholarships like these, I can embark on my higher education journey and inspire other young disabled women of color to seek support, build confidence, and continue the cycle of education and advocacy for disability studies.