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.