As a Black woman and first-generation college student pursuing a career in cybersecurity, I have walked a path shaped by ambition, resilience, and constant resourcefulness. I didn’t grow up in a household where tech careers were common or college was assumed. Instead, I grew up in a home where internet access was limited, textbooks were shared, and college dreams felt like luxuries—not guarantees. But I’ve always believed that the barriers I face are not dead ends—they’re blueprints for building new systems. From the start, I encountered financial obstacles at every stage of my education. The cost of SAT prep books and testing fees required sacrifices from my family. Now, as I prepare for professional certifications and postgraduate opportunities in cybersecurity, the weight of expenses—from application fees to prep materials for industry exams like CompTIA and CISSP—continues to grow. Many of these tools are necessary to remain competitive in a rapidly evolving field, yet they’re priced beyond the reach of many first-gen students like me. Balancing these expenses while supporting my family and paying for college out-of-pocket has been challenging. There have been semesters when I borrowed books instead of buying them, or spent nights in parking lots using public Wi-Fi to complete assignments. And still, I persist. I’m currently working on a community-based cybersecurity app that helps low-tech users avoid phishing scams, and I lead digital safety workshops in underserved schools. But to keep going—to take the exams, earn certifications, and gain access to more impactful tech roles—I need help. Receiving the Victoria Johnson Minority Women in STEM Scholarship would be a pivotal step in lightening the financial burden that weighs on my journey. It would allow me to cover the costs of essential cybersecurity exams, industry conference travel, and continuing education without sacrificing my academic focus. More than a scholarship, this would be a reminder that people believe in my mission: to build inclusive, accessible technology for those who need it most. My long-term goal is to launch a nonprofit that provides free cybersecurity education to BIPOC youth and small community organizations. I envision mobile tech labs, open-source safety tools, and digital workshops that empower families with knowledge. With the right credentials and support, I can scale these ideas into lasting community programs that not only educate—but protect. Giving back isn’t something I’ll do after I succeed—it’s something I’m doing now, and will continue to do at every level. As I rise in the tech world, I plan to mentor young women of color entering STEM fields, advocate for more equitable access to certification programs, and help shift the narrative of what a technologist looks like. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger: someone visible, present, and willing to open doors for others. STEM is more than a career path for me—it’s a tool for transformation. I’m determined to reshape the digital world into one that includes and protects the most overlooked. With the support of this scholarship, I’ll be better positioned to stay focused on my academic and professional goals without being derailed by financial stress. I’m ready to move forward with clarity, purpose, and the means to make meaningful change.

Growing up in a household where internet access was a luxury and digital safety was never discussed, I learned early on that technology is both powerful and unevenly distributed. As a first-generation college student and a Black woman in cybersecurity, I carry both the privilege of opportunity and the weight of responsibility. My experiences have shaped a mission-driven approach to tech: one that centers community, equity, and digital empowerment. My passion for cybersecurity began not in a classroom, but in a library. I stumbled upon an outdated coding manual and started experimenting with basic Python scripts on shared public computers. The more I learned, the more I realized how often communities like mine are excluded from critical conversations around data protection and online safety. I didn’t see people who looked like me in cybersecurity—so I decided to become one. What drives me is the belief that cybersecurity shouldn’t be reserved for corporations or elite institutions—it should be accessible to everyone. I’ve led workshops in my community teaching basic digital safety, created multilingual materials on recognizing phishing attacks, and mentored high school students of color interested in tech careers. Through my leadership in our university’s Women in Tech club, I’ve organized laptop donation drives and built a mentorship program connecting college students with underrepresented youth in STEM. Each of these experiences has reinforced that representation is not just symbolic—it’s systemic. When Black students see themselves in tech, they begin to believe they belong in it. My mission is to normalize that belonging and build infrastructure to support it. Currently, I’m pursuing a degree in Information Technology with a concentration in cybersecurity. The program is giving me both the technical expertise and ethical foundation to build tools that protect—not exploit—communities. I’m also working on an AI-powered phishing detector app tailored for low-tech users, such as elderly internet users or families unfamiliar with scam tactics. My goal is to use this degree not just to enter the tech industry, but to disrupt it—to challenge the assumption that innovation has to come from the top down. In five years, I plan to launch a nonprofit that provides free cybersecurity education and consulting for BIPOC communities, low-income schools, and small businesses. I want to build a grassroots movement for digital justice that includes mobile clinics, open-source safety tools, and community-based tech fellows. Technology moves fast, but I believe trust and access are what create lasting change. I’ve faced many hurdles—financial instability, housing insecurity, and being underestimated in STEM spaces. During my freshman year, when my mother lost her job, I balanced coursework, part-time jobs, and caregiving. There were nights I used public Wi-Fi from parking lots to submit assignments. But instead of letting those experiences hold me back, I let them sharpen my resolve. They taught me how to be resourceful, disciplined, and fearless. Winning the Byte into STEM Scholarship would allow me to complete a cybersecurity certification alongside my degree, reduce my financial strain, and scale up the outreach work I’ve already started. More than that, it would affirm that my work matters—that being a community-centered technologist is not only possible but powerful. I’m not just preparing for a career—I’m building a future where cybersecurity is a right, not a privilege. A future where Black girls see themselves as engineers, coders, and changemakers. A future where we all feel safe—online and off.

I am a Black woman, a first-generation college student, and an aspiring cybersecurity innovator. I come from a family of determined women who taught me that being underestimated is not a disadvantage—it's a hidden strength. I care deeply about digital justice, community safety, and educational equity. I’m driven by the belief that tech should protect people, not exclude them. My mission is to build systems and spaces that make the digital world safer and more accessible—especially for people who’ve historically been left out of it. One real-world issue that I’m deeply connected to is the digital divide in underserved communities. While growing up, I watched neighbors fall prey to phishing scams and misinformation, not because they lacked intelligence, but because they lacked access to digital literacy and protection tools. Cybersecurity is often framed as a high-level technical concern, but its real-world consequences are felt on the most local level—when a grandmother loses her savings to fraud, or when a high schooler’s private messages are leaked. For BIPOC communities, this issue is compounded by systemic barriers to tech education, representation, and security. If I had the power to make change in this area, I would build a grassroots cybersecurity education network. This would include free online tools translated into multiple languages, culturally specific awareness campaigns, and mobile tech clinics that visit schools and community centers. I envision using gamified learning apps, peer-to-peer mentorship, and collaborations with local artists and influencers to destigmatize cybersecurity and make it relevant, even cool. We don’t need more tech gatekeeping—we need liberation through knowledge. I chose cybersecurity because I see it as both armor and opportunity. It’s a field that combines my love of systems thinking with my passion for social justice. I didn’t grow up around engineers or coders. I taught myself Python from online videos and debugged my first command line errors in a public library. The moment I learned how vulnerabilities can be exploited—and how they can be patched—I realized that tech isn’t just built, it’s defended. I want to use this skill not to protect corporations, but to protect communities. In five years, my goal is to launch my own nonprofit that provides free cybersecurity literacy programs for BIPOC youth and families. I’m already laying the groundwork: I’ve interned with a local tech hub, led campus workshops on data privacy, and am building a prototype for an AI-powered phishing detection app tailored to non-technical users. My next step is to complete a cybersecurity certification, secure a full-time role in ethical hacking, and begin forming partnerships with schools and mutual aid groups. Education has helped me discover my voice—and given me the blueprint for how to use it. Through college, I learned that I don’t have to choose between tech and advocacy. The courses, projects, and mentorship I’ve received have equipped me with both technical fluency and the confidence to speak up in rooms where I’m often the only woman, the only Black person, or the youngest. I used to shrink myself to fit in. Now, I expand my presence to shift the space. My identity as a woman, particularly a Black woman, has made me painfully aware of the ways tech can both harm and empower. I’ve faced assumptions that I’m not “technical enough” or that my interest in cybersecurity is surface-level. I’ve also experienced deep solidarity from other women of color in STEM—each of us pushing forward despite being underestimated. My perspective is shaped by community, compassion, and resistance. I move through the world not just as a student, but as someone committed to redesigning the systems that often exclude people like me. Leadership, to me, means showing up with purpose and humility—even when no one asks you to. I led my university’s Women in Tech club, creating spaces for students to connect, collaborate, and be vulnerable about the challenges we face in male-dominated fields. I also started an initiative to provide recycled laptops and open-source learning resources to high school students in my hometown. Leadership isn’t about titles—it’s about impact. It’s being willing to start small, stay consistent, and lift others as you climb. One of the most defining moments of resilience in my life happened during my freshman year, when my mother lost her job and we faced housing insecurity. I juggled coursework, a part-time job, and helping care for my younger siblings. There were nights when I coded by candlelight during power outages and used borrowed Wi-Fi from parking lots to submit assignments. That year taught me how to be resourceful, manage my time, and believe in my own ability to persevere. I didn’t just survive—I grew. And I’ve carried that lesson with me into every challenge since. If awarded this scholarship, the support would go directly toward tuition and certification costs, allowing me to focus on the research and fieldwork that fuels my nonprofit plans. It would give me more time to mentor younger students, expand my campus outreach, and build tech tools for digital justice without the constant pressure of financial instability. More than that, it would be a vote of confidence—a reminder that my vision is seen, valued, and possible. I am a visionary not because I have all the answers, but because I see the gaps and know they can be filled. I am building a future where BIPOC girls code with confidence, where every household has access to digital protection, and where leadership looks like us. I’m not waiting to be invited to the table—I’m building a new one.

From the moment I took apart my family’s broken microwave at age ten, I was captivated by how things worked beneath the surface. What started as childhood curiosity grew into a deep fascination with systems, logic, and innovation. As a minority student in a low-income neighborhood, I often felt like my access to resources lagged behind my ambition. But STEM gave me a language to express not just ideas, but hope—and a path to transform challenges into possibilities. My interest in STEM stems from both a passion for problem-solving and a personal understanding of how technology can uplift underserved communities. I’m currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in Computer Science, with a specific focus on cybersecurity and AI ethics. These fields excite me because they sit at the intersection of technical innovation and social responsibility. I believe science is not just about what can be done, but what should be done—and how to do it equitably. What drives me most is the opportunity to make a measurable impact. I want to develop cybersecurity tools and educational platforms that protect vulnerable populations from data exploitation and misinformation. My long-term goal is to found a nonprofit that provides free digital literacy and privacy education to low-income communities and public schools. With data breaches and online manipulation disproportionately affecting minority and low-income groups, there’s an urgent need for accessible, culturally relevant tech solutions. I want to be at the forefront of that change—bridging the gap between innovation and equity. The road here hasn’t been easy. As a first-generation college student, navigating academia was like decoding a system without the instruction manual. My family supported me with love, but couldn't offer much guidance on college applications, course selection, or career planning. I taught myself how to code using free online resources, often using spotty Wi-Fi in public libraries. During high school, I balanced advanced STEM classes with part-time jobs to help support my household, all while grappling with imposter syndrome in classrooms where few students looked like me. One of the most formative challenges I faced came during my sophomore year of college, when I was temporarily forced to pause my studies due to financial hardship. Watching peers move ahead while I stepped back was heartbreaking. But I refused to give up. I took on additional freelance tech work, earned certifications, and built my own coding portfolio in the meantime. That pause, while painful, sharpened my determination. I returned to school stronger, more focused, and more committed than ever to using my STEM education to empower others who feel unseen in these spaces. To me, leadership in STEM isn’t just about technical brilliance—it’s about using that knowledge to lift others up. It's about advocating for inclusion in innovation, questioning the systems that exclude people, and building new ones that welcome everyone. I hope to serve as a mentor for younger students of color interested in STEM, offering the kind of support I never had when I started. Winning this scholarship would not only ease financial strain—it would affirm my belief that students like me belong in this field and can lead it forward. I’m not just pursuing a career in STEM; I’m pursuing a vision of justice through technology. And I am ready to build it.

As a BIPOC student growing up in a home where mental health was rarely discussed and therapy was seen as a luxury, I learned early on how stigma and cost keep support out of reach. I also learned how powerful art can be when words fall short. Through painting and spoken word, I began expressing emotions I didn’t yet have the language for—something that changed my life. My unique contribution to affordable and accessible mental health care is creating a mobile, community-based Art for Healing Collective—a traveling mental wellness program rooted in culturally relevant practices. This collective would host free workshops at local schools, libraries, and community centers, using visual arts, storytelling, music, and movement as therapeutic tools for young people of color. Sessions would be led by peer mentors and trained volunteers, rather than licensed therapists, to reduce cost while still providing emotional support and connection. Additionally, I would develop an open-access digital library of culturally responsive resources, including guided journaling prompts, art therapy videos, and mental health check-in tools designed by and for BIPOC youth. My goal is to make mental health care feel less clinical and more communal—something woven into everyday life rather than confined to therapy rooms. Healing should not be gatekept behind high costs or stigma. Everyone deserves a safe space to be seen, heard, and held. Through art and accessibility, I want to help create those spaces.

Growing up in a community where digital literacy was nearly nonexistent, I witnessed neighbors and families fall prey to scams and privacy breaches. As a first-generation college student in IT, I’m determined to change that by creating free cybersecurity workshops tailored for underserved groups. My mission is to make cybersecurity not a mystery, but a life skill—something every parent, student, and elder in my community can understand and use. By equipping people with tools to defend their digital identities, we strengthen not just individuals, but the fabric of the community. Empowerment through education is how I plan to spark long-term, grassroots resilience.