I plan to create a legacy rooted in visibility, voice, and value, especially for black youth who often grow up feeling unseen or unheard. My dream business isn’t traditional. I want to build a creative media brand and storytelling platform that bridges personal identity, community history, and digital culture. It’ll be part production company, part community studio, and part educational resource; a space that invites people, especially those from marginalized communities, to tell their stories beautifully, unapologetically, and on their own terms. Right now, I’m laying the foundation through my YouTube channel and photography projects, but this is only the beginning. My long-term goal is to expand into a full media company, one that offers workshops, production opportunities, grants, and storytelling mentorships for youth, especially those in underfunded schools or low-income areas. I want to disrupt the idea that you need fancy connections or expensive equipment to create something meaningful. I want to make creativity accessible. I grew up watching people settle. Not because they weren’t ambitious, but because they didn’t have the resources or support. I want to shift that narrative. My business will be a place where young creators find tools, mentorship, and belief in themselves. Where art and entrepreneurship live side-by-side. Where storytelling is treated not just as entertainment, but as a form of liberation. I shine my light through service, creativity, and connection. I've volunteered with Habitat for Humanity during an alternative spring break, worked backstage on community fashion shows, and taken on leadership roles in student organizations—all while continuing to show up for my peers emotionally and creatively. I’m someone who pays attention to the quiet pain in others and tries to transform it into something meaningful, whether that’s through helping someone organize their ideas, capturing their beauty through a photo, or simply listening when they feel invisible. I also shine by refusing to shrink myself. As a low-income student of color, I’ve been told to play it safe, get a stable job, and keep my head down. But I believe safety comes from building something real, something that reflects who you are and uplifts those around you. That’s what entrepreneurship means to me: freedom, purpose, and impact. This scholarship would help me continue my studies in management information systems, a field I chose because I believe digital tools can expand access and representation. My passion lives at the intersection of tech and storytelling, and I plan to use both to reimagine what’s possible for young black creatives. Legacy, to me, isn’t just about personal success. It’s about creating something that outlives you, something that leaves doors open behind you. I want my work to echo long after I’m gone; to remind people that their stories matter, that their creativity can heal, and that with vision and community, they can change the world. That’s the legacy I plan to leave behind.

I grew up in an underfunded school district where free lunch was the norm, not the exception. Resources were scarce, and the cracks in the system weren't just visible; they were swallowing kids whole. The further we advanced in grade level, the more those around me began to fall behind. I witnessed classmates give up on reading, on testing, on trying, simply because the system seemed to give up on them first. By middle and high school, the shift became stark. Violence felt closer. Drugs became more accessible than art supplies. Students who once thrived in after-school programs slowly disengaged because the programs disappeared, or worse, because the programs couldn’t meet them where they were emotionally. Some of my peers repeated grades not because they weren’t smart, but because they had been emotionally and academically neglected for too long. There was no safety net. There was barely a foundation. What made it worse was seeing the effects ripple outward: into families, mental health, community pride. Creativity, imagination, and hope began to shrink. I realized early that poverty doesn't just steal food off your table. It robs people of their futures in small, relentless ways. But I also realized this: we were never hopeless. Just under-seen, under-heard, and under-served. As someone who found solace in writing, photography, and video storytelling, I now understand the power that creative outlets hold for kids like me. They’re more than hobbies; they’re lifelines. They’re how you learn to believe in yourself again. That’s why I’m building my own platform through my YouTube channel and photography to document, celebrate, and uplift stories that often go untold. It’s why I want to create spaces, both digital and physical, where black youth can engage with media, technology, and storytelling, and realize their experiences are valid and their voices are powerful. Simultaneously, I’m studying management information systems with a focus on digital media analytics because I want to bring real data to the forefront. I want to expose the disparities in education access, literacy rates, and funding gaps with more than just anecdotal evidence; I want to build digital tools that advocate for transparency and reform. My career goal is to work at the intersection of technology, media, and education equity. I want to show communities like mine what’s possible when creativity and data meet purpose. Yes, I come from a district where the ceilings felt low. But I also come from people who dream beyond them. I know what it’s like to grow up watching your peers get left behind, and I carry that with me as fuel, not baggage. This scholarship would not only ease the financial strain on my family, but it would allow me to continue building the tools, platforms, and programs that I never had growing up. I’m committed to being part of the solution, not just by advocating, but by creating. Because I believe that when you give young people both structure and imagination, education and expression, they don’t just survive. They soar.

I’ve moved more times than I can count—seven, maybe eight—but the number doesn’t matter. What matters is that I never truly knew the feeling of permanence. No walls I could call mine for long, no room that wasn’t temporary. But with every move, one thing stayed: my mother’s love. That kind of love; the quiet, overworked, bone-tired kind taught me that home isn’t always a place. Sometimes, it’s a person who carries you forward, even while they’re falling apart behind the scenes. My mother is a single parent who’s given everything she has and more to see me educated, safe, and hopeful. She never wanted me to repeat her life of exhaustion. So I stopped asking for the “extras” other kids had. Not because I didn’t want them, but because I knew better. I knew she skipped meals. I knew her joints hurt. I knew the headaches she ignored and the dreams she had put on hold. I didn’t want to be another weight on her already burdened shoulders. Instead, I wanted to be her return on investment. She always told me, “Charity begins at home.” Back then, I thought it meant chores. But now I understand; before you pour into the world, you care for your own. That’s why my success isn’t just mine. It’s the house she never got to settle in. It’s the books she’ll finally read for pleasure, not for another nursing course. It’s the passport stamps she’ll collect with her friends, the family we’ll bring from Cameroon, so no one has to dream from across an ocean. My ambition is generational. My drive is emotional. My “why” is love. But I don’t just want to survive or succeed. I want to question the world. I want to look around and ask why a country that promises so much still leaves so many behind. I don’t believe in sitting comfortably in systems that exploit and erase. I’m studying business analytics and technology, but my vision is bigger than numbers. I want to use my voice, my platform, and eventually my resources to give the people their voices back. To tell the truth. To rewrite the story for those of us told to shrink. And still, I dream of one day feeling fulfilled, not because I made it for someone else, but because I lived fully as myself. Because I chose passion over fear. Because I took everything I was given—pain, movement, love, sacrifice—and I turned it into something undeniable. That’s why I believe I’m a strong candidate for this scholarship. Not because I’ve had it the hardest, but because I’ve learned how to keep going with hope, humility, and heart. I’m not just dreaming of a better future, I’m working every day to build it, for myself, for my family, and for others who deserve more than what the world has handed them.

Growing up as a fully Cameroonian daughter in an immigrant household, I was taught the value of education not just as a path forward, but as a promise; to myself, to my family, and to everyone who came before me. That promise drives me every day. It’s what fuels my commitment to earning my degree in management information systems and technology, and it’s what kept me grounded as I worked part-time jobs, volunteered with nonprofits, and stayed involved on campus, all while navigating life’s unpredictable turns. My story is not without struggle. Like many underrepresented students, I’ve battled self-doubt, financial insecurity, and the pressure of being “the first.” The first to step into higher education with no roadmap. The first to balance a deep creative passion with a practical career path. But what I’ve learned is that we don’t have to choose one dream over another, we must work harder and work smarter. In college, I’ve found meaning in helping others find their footing. I volunteered with Habitat for Humanity on an Alternative Spring Break trip, where I worked alongside a women’s guild in honor of International Women’s Day. It was there that I truly understood the meaning of solidarity; how strangers can come together with open hands and open hearts to build more than just houses. We built stories. We built hope. That same spirit has carried over into every leadership opportunity I’ve taken on since, whether working on a fashion show committee, organizing behind the scenes, or supporting my peers who feel unseen. Beyond my academic and volunteer work, I’m also pursuing my love for storytelling through digital media. I’m building a YouTube channel, 'Digital Angel', dedicated to capturing the raw, beautiful complexity of human experience. I want to travel, document culture, uplift underrepresented voices, and show that no matter who you are, your story is worth telling. In a world saturated with trends and short attention spans, I want to create art that lasts, art that resonates. This scholarship would ease the financial burden on my family and allow me to continue growing academically and creatively. More importantly, it would affirm that my dreams, no matter how big or multifaceted, are valid. I want to live a life that makes room for others to dream too. One day, I hope to start a nonprofit that empowers young people of color to combine tech, creativity, and storytelling to rewrite narratives about their communities. To be selected for the Mark Green Memorial Scholarship would not only help me pursue my own education, but also empower me to uplift others in the process—just as Mark did. Like him, I believe in education as a vehicle for transformation. And like his legacy, I’m committed to turning every obstacle into opportunity.

I’ve spent most of my life trying to be the "right" kind of successful. I chased good grades, packed my resume with leadership roles, and stayed on track; the kind of track that looks impressive on paper but didn’t always feel aligned with my soul. Somewhere in the pursuit of perfection, I forgot to ask myself: What do I truly want? And more importantly: Why do I believe I deserve it? I am an immigrant daughter of a Cameroonian mother whose strength and sacrifice have shaped every fiber of who I am. I grew up with an acute awareness of what it means to carry weight quietly, to make do with little, to dream while holding it down for everyone else. Watching my mom give everything so I could have made me deeply committed to not letting her sacrifices go in vain. My biggest dream isn’t just for me, it’s to one day retire my mother, to give her the rest she’s never asked for but always deserved. Right now, I’m pursuing a degree in management information systems with a focus on business analytics—but that’s only one part of my identity. I’m also a creative, a storyteller, and a young woman who believes in the power of media to connect people to themselves and to each other. I’m currently building a YouTube channel, Digital Angel, where I’ll document life, real life, with all its color, culture, emotion, and complexity. I want to give people permission to feel, laugh, learn, to see beauty in their everyday lives. I don’t want to just follow trends; I want to create timeless work that reflects the full spectrum of humanity. As a volunteer with Habitat for Humanity through my college’s Alternative Spring Break program, I witnessed the true meaning of community. During that week, I had the opportunity to work alongside a women’s guild for International Women’s Day, where the deeper purpose of our efforts became clear. It wasn’t about charity, it was about solidarity. I wasn’t just a student; I was a builder, a listener, and a teammate. More than anything, I was reminded of the transformative power of women coming together to create something meaningful from nothing. I carry that same energy into every space I enter, whether I’m coordinating backstage operations for a fashion show, collaborating with performers and creatives, or mentoring peers who feel lost like I once did. I’m also learning that growth doesn't always look like forward motion. Sometimes, it’s standing still long enough to hear your inner voice again. After years of chasing achievement, I’ve started making space for softness. For joy. For artistry. For the kind of self-worth that doesn’t hinge on productivity, but presence. I am worth my dreams not because I have it all figured out, but because I’ve finally started choosing myself. I am learning to embrace the full complexity of womanhood: the fierce and the fragile, the dreamer and the doer. I’m not afraid of hard work; I’ve been doing it my whole life. But now, I’m learning to pair that grit with grace. This scholarship wouldn’t just fund my education. It would affirm that my multidimensionality is a strength, not a flaw. That being a woman with many passions and a powerful vision is enough. I know my worth, not just in what I’ve done, but in who I am becoming. And I’m committed to building a life that honors that truth, unapologetically.