Mental Health and Public Policy Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

Growing up Poor I grew up as a mixed-race African woman. My mother was from Ghana, my father was a white man from America. I grew up here in New Jersey. I looked very tan with curly long hair often being confused with being Hispanic. I am proud of my African roots but I love it here in America. This is my home. I grew up in poverty, living in and out of hotels and cars. We lived all over the state in whatever apartment we could afford. I never had my own room. The closest I got was a moldy basement that gave me bronchitis. The one advantage of growing up poor was I got a healthy amount of grants from the Fafsa. The unfortunate part of growing up poor was it takes a toll on your mental health. My father was a gambling addict that was in and out of me and my siblings' lives. My mother was a single parent who couldn’t read and had anger issues. I wanted the best for my family no matter what happened. I wanted more for people of color or people in poverty. That's why I got into politics in college. Nothing was more motivating than the 2016 election, it felt like the first time in my life where my peers were paying attention to the problems arising in the country. It drove me crazy when I went out to college and I wasn't there to support my family. So crazy that I learned I wasn't just struggling with depression and anxiety, but with bipolar disorder. It landed me in inpatient treatment and now outpatient treatment. I forgot who I was. I thought I needed absolute silence, in the middle of the woods, in a cabin I built for myself when in reality I needed to get back into politics and help the working class and people of color. The George Flyod and Black Live Matter movement was a huge motivator to go back to school, but I was still sick. Turns out that when you're sick you start to miss a couple of classes and nearly drop out you end up owing Rutgers University some money back. I lost my car, lost my apartment, and nearly lost my mind, and nearly lost my mind. Now I am back on track to helping those in need but first I need some help getting back to school.

Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

I grew up as a gifted child in a chaotic household. We moved probably 10 times growing up due to financial insecurity. We were all up and down New Jersey, taking a few detours in Pennslyvania and Massachusetts. The whole time I maintained the status of the gifted child. I was ahead of my grade in math by two years by the time I ended up in high school. I was placed in the Arts Academy at Bayonne High School. It was a special little section of the school for kids with high academic scores or talent. I happened to have both. I was a blossoming artist at the time, a skill I now occasionally use for mural gigs nowadays. I am currently on pause from college, trying to gather the funds to return. I took a pause to deal with some very severe mental health issues brought on by the lockdown and pandemic. As a student, I was very politically active. I feel like I snapped into reality during the 2016 election. Something about Trump winning that election posing as a populist when he was so clearly a corrupt corporatist charged me. I was motivated, I was following to news, I was forming my own opinions, I was finding unbiased journalists, I was finding candidates that matched my moral code. I gravitated toward Bernie Sanders for obvious reasons. Once I got to university I tethered between following my artistic dreams and going into politics. I chose the latter. I had 3 great years where I was hyper-focused. I was an As and Bs student, except for that one F for calculus, and I was a very outspoken participant in all of my classes. I got myself a car, I was renting out a room on campus, I was working part-time, and I was making friends online. That all came to an end when the lockdowns ended and I was forced to go outside. I took a year off for my mental health and realized the plight of all the kids around me. We were paying attention and we burned out. I had one friend tell me he had reoccurring nightmares about a nuclear holocaust. I had another say they are giving up hope for peace in America. That's what brings me here today. I am fighting for my generation. My generation is mentally exhausted. We are ill. We see the future blooming before us and it's scary. I want to fight for a New Green Deal. I wanted to push for an isolationist stance on wars overseas. I want to fight for equal rights for people of color like myself, and members of the LGBTQ community. I'm a gifted child who's ready to fight back. If I have to lead that charge myself I will. I was born to be a leader, it's time to prove myself

I grew up as a gifted child in a chaotic household. We moved probably 10 times growing up due to financial insecurity. We were all up and down New Jersey, taking a few detours in Pennslyvania and Massachusetts. The whole time I maintained the status of the gifted child. I was ahead of my grade in math by two years by the time I ended up in high school. I was placed in the Arts Academy at Bayonne High School. It was a special little section of the school for kids with high academic scores or talent. I happened to have both. I was a blossoming artist at the time, a skill I now occasionally use for mural gigs nowadays. I am currently on pause from college, trying to gather the funds to return. I took a pause to deal with some very severe mental health issues brought on by the lockdown and pandemic. As a student, I was very politically active. I feel like I snapped into reality during the 2016 election. Something about Trump winning that election posing as a populist when he was so clearly a corrupt corporatist charged me. I was motivated, I was following to news, I was forming my own opinions, I was finding unbiased journalists, I was finding candidates that matched my moral code. I gravitated toward Bernie Sanders for obvious reasons. Once I got to university I tethered between following my artistic dreams and going into politics. I chose the latter. I had 3 great years where I was hyper-focused. I was an As and Bs student, except for that one F for calculus, and I was a very outspoken participant in all of my classes. I got myself a car, I was renting out a room on campus, I was working part-time, and I was making friends online. That all came to an end when the lockdowns ended and I was forced to go outside. I took a year off for my mental health and realized the plight of all the kids around me. We were paying attention and we burned out. I had one friend tell me he had reoccurring nightmares about a nuclear holocaust. I had another say they are giving up hope for peace in America. That's what brings me here today. I am fighting for my generation. My generation is mentally exhausted. We are ill. We see the future blooming before us and it's scary. I want to fight for a New Green Deal. I wanted to push for an isolationist stance on wars overseas. I want to fight for equal rights for people of color like myself, and members of the LGBTQ community. I'm a gifted child who's ready to fight back. If I have to lead that charge myself I will. I was born to be a leader, it's time to prove myself.

Growing up Poor I grew up as a mixed-race African woman. My mother was from Ghana, my father was a white man from America. I grew up here in New Jersey. I looked very tan with curly long hair often being confused with being Hispanic. I am proud of my African roots but I love it here in America. This is my home. I grew up in poverty, living in and out of hotels and cars. We lived all over the state in whatever apartment we could afford. I never had my room. The closest I got was a moldy basement that gave me bronchitis. I wanted more for people of color or people in poverty. That's why I got into politics in college. The one advantage of growing up poor was I got a healthy amount of grants from the FAFSA. The unfortunate part of growing up poor was it takes a toll on your mental health. My father was a gambling addict that was in and out of my and my siblings' lives. My mother was a single parent who couldn’t read and had anger issues. She was raised by Africans who would hit misbehaving children with a ceramic pot and leave them to heal their broken skulls on their own. My mother lived a very hard life, and so did me and my siblings. I want a better life for immigrants and their families moving forward. I wanted the best for my family no matter what happened. It drove me crazy when I went out to college and I wasn't there to support them. So crazy that I learned I wasn't just struggling with depression and anxiety, but with bipolar disorder. It landed me in inpatient treatment and now outpatient treatment. I forgot who I was. I thought I needed absolute silence, in the middle of the woods, in a cabin I built for myself when in reality I needed to get back into politics and help the working class and people of color. Remembering the George Flyod and Black Live Matter movement was a huge motivator to go back to school. I see police misusing their power all the time. Pulling over black men going 65 in a 60 mph zone. Situations where cops are putting black men on their knees and in cuffs for talking back. They aren't gods and should be viewed as such. We need to demilitarize and deflate the egos of cops. Hearing about black kids being shot for ringing the wrong doorbell by accident terrified me. My brother is only 13. Something like that can happen to him. I'm afraid every time he heads out the door. You never know what can happen. Turn out that when you're sick you start to miss a couple of classes and nearly drop out you end up owning Rutgers University some money back. Now I am back on track to helping those in need but first I need some help getting back to school. I have a lot of dreams. I want to become a lawyer or get into politics, but first I need some financial help. It would mean the world to me.

I grew up as a gifted child in a chaotic household. We moved probably 10 times growing up due to financial insecurity. We were all up and down New Jersey, taking a few detours in Pennslyvania and Massachusetts. The whole time I maintained the status of the gifted child. I was ahead of my grade in math by two years by the time I ended up in high school. I was placed in the Arts Academy at Bayonne High School. It was a special little section of the school for kids with high academic scores or talent. I happened to have both. I was a blossoming artist at the time, a skill I now occasionally use for mural gigs nowadays. I am currently on pause from college, trying to gather the funds to return. I took a pause to deal with some very severe mental health issues brought on by the lockdown and pandemic. As a student, I was very politically active. I feel like I snapped into reality during the 2016 election. Something about Trump winning that election posing as a populist when he was so clearly a corrupt corporatist charged me. I was motivated, I was following to news, I was forming my own opinions, I was finding unbiased journalists, I was finding candidates that matched my moral code. I gravitated toward Bernie Sanders for obvious reasons. Once I got to university I tethered between following my artistic dreams and going into politics. I chose the latter. I had 3 great years where I was hyper-focused. I was an As and Bs student, except for that one F for calculus, and I was a very outspoken participant in all of my classes. I got myself a car, I was renting out a room on campus, I was working part-time, and I was making friends online. That all came to an end when the lockdowns ended and I was forced to go outside. I took a year off for my mental health and realized the plight of all the gifted kids around me. We were paying attention and we burned out. I had one friend tell me he had reoccurring nightmares about a nuclear holocaust. I had another say they are giving up hope for peace in America. That's what brings me here today. I am fighting for my generation. My generation is mentally exhausted. We are ill. We see the future blooming before us and it's scary. I want to fight for a New Green Deal. I wanted to push for an isolationist stance on wars overseas. I want to fight for equal rights for people of color like myself, and members of the LGBTQ community. I'm a gifted child whose ready to fight back.

It's very funny seeing my 47-year-old African mother be obsessed with Taylor Swift. As silly as it is to say Taylor Swift's music has brought my mother, my 2-year-old sister, and I closer together. We are currently on a Midnights binge trying to decypher every clue in every music video. I personally love Karma, the baby and my mom can't get enough of Anti-Hero. Even as I type this we are listening to snippets of the Eras tour. For the songs that aren't getting a music video, I love Could've Would've Should've. I even drew a picture to go with the song that I posted on my Instagram, @_Bum_Bunny_ for proof. I first thought the next re-recorded album was going to be Speak Now, but based on what I've been hearing and based on this scholarship question I'm beginning to think it's 1989. My favorite song from 1989 has to be Wildest Dreams. First of all, I am a sucker for old Hollywood and the music it is based on that. I love the brunette Marilyn Monroe-styled hair, I love the wardrobe, I love a good red carpet look, the glitz and glam, the dramatic romance, etc. Second of all the lyrics are incredible. She is such a songstress. The lyrics are so descriptive and detailed. Who thinks of a line like "standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe, red lips and rosy cheek." Lyrics like "Heaven can't help me now, nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down" are so melancholic, it's my favorite thing to listen to. The instrumentals are a whole different masterpiece. It gives off a grand orchestra feeling, and at the low points it feels like a real human heartbeat. The message of the song is something that I resonate with. I recently just went through a very hard breakup. We were both going through some mental health issues, mine were more serve than his, and we ended up breaking up on relatively good terms. We promised to find each other later in life. So the line "Say you'll remember me standing in a nice dress" absolutely destroys me. I want him to remember our relationship fondly, not who we were at the end. He is a wonderful guy, he just doesn't understand mental health issues or poverty. What I love about Taylor is she is a songstress first. Her lyrics are so meaningful, yet vague enough to relate to every girl or guy out there. We play Taylor Swift so much my stepdad has gotten into it. So here I am as a Swifty who can't afford concert tickets asking for some financial support to get back into university. I hope I made a good case.

Mental Health and Public Policy Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

Mental Health and Public Policy Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I supported Medicaid for all. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance.

Growing up Poor I grew up as a mixed-race African woman. My mother was from Ghana, my father was a white man from America. I grew up here in New Jersey. I looked very tan with curly long hair often being confused with being Hispanic. I am proud of my African roots but I love it here in America. This is my home. I grew up in poverty, living in and out of hotels and cars. We lived all over the state in whatever apartment we could afford. I never had my own room. The closest I got was a moldy basement that gave me bronchitis. I wanted more for people of color or people in poverty. That's why I got into politics in college. The one advantage of growing up poor was I got a healthy amount of grants from the FAFSA. The unfortunate part of growing up poor was it takes a toll on your mental health. At the age of 17, my father took off for good. He met a Dominic woman who also didn't speak much English and took off with her leaving me alone and forcing me to stay at my best friend Gina's house. Their home life wasn't great either, my mother was still on a rampage and I felt like I had nowhere to go. I started experimenting with drugs with my other best friend Nathan. They didn't do much for me and I patched things up with my mother before I went down Nathan's unfortunate path. My father was a gambling addict that was in and out of my and my siblings' lives. My mother was a single parent who couldn’t read and had anger issues. She was raised by Africans who would hit misbehaving children with a ceramic pot and leave them to heal their broken skulls on their own. My mother lived a very hard life, and so did me and my siblings. I want a better life for immigrants and their families moving forward. I wanted the best for my family no matter what happened. Now with are in a healthier spot than before. She met a good African man who is in a union and can afford a modest house. I'm sitting here in my bedroom while my brothers are crammed in another bedroom. I now have a little sister that I'm helping to raise but it's really hard when your mother's husband won't help support your wife's kids. I'm working on my mental health in therapy and I want to get back to school but I need some financial help first.

Disney's magic has always had a huge influence on me when it came to my interest in storytelling and illustration. I remember balling my eyes out to movies like Tarzan, Up, Pocahontas, Mulan, and the Frozen movies. You cannot find better storytellers than the people working at Disney and Pixar. A Disney story cares about the heart, friends and family. Whether that be about found family like in movies like Up and Tarzan or incredible friendships like in Zootopia and Mulan. It has inspired me to look into artistic careers for myself. Whether that means I pursue mural and painting jobs as a side hustle or children book illustrations job as a career. All I know is take it takes a bit of financial help to make it as an artist, and I would deeply appreciate help from the company that has inspired me my whole life. I remember seeing Frozen as a young girl with best friend Gina. We were both 13 and saw the movie in theaters on opening night. I considered this girl like a sister to me since I had a tense relationship with my own sister at the time. Just the other night Gina and I were on the phone reminiscing about that one time we watch Frozen in theaters. She turn over to look at me and I was crying like a baby. She giggled at me while I teared up. It was the end scene where Elsa saves Anna from freezing. She has never forgotten about that moment and neither will I. I always appreciated the music aspect of Disney movies and how it paired with the visuals. In Disney's Tangled I loved the dancing scene in the Bar where Rapenzal sings with all the men about their dreams. They went from scary brooding men to big softies with cute dreams. Phil Collins singing in Tarzan was amazing, same with Brothers Bear. His powerful voice always pairs well with heartfelt scenes. "Let It Go" from Frozen took the world by storm. The visuals attached to the dramatic lyrics and instrumentals of "Colors of The Wind" from Pocahontas, and "Hellfire" for Hutchback of Nortedome are so amazing I can still go back to them without the context of the movies. The Disney Family has been with me my whole life. From Hannah Montana and Suite of Zach and Cody, to the animated movies, to the cartoons I grew up with like Phineas and Ferb, to the extended family like Marvel that I watch as an adult. They have always been there to entertain. For that I am grateful.

Growing up Poor I grew up as a mixed-race African woman. My mother was from Ghana, my father was a white man from America. I grew up here in New Jersey. I looked very tan with curly long hair often being confused with being Hispanic. I am proud of my African roots but I love it here in America. This is my home. I grew up in poverty, living in and out of hotels and cars. We lived all over the state in whatever apartment we could afford. I never had my own room. The closest I got was a moldy basement that gave me bronchitis. I wanted more for people of color or people in poverty. That's why I got into politics in college. The one advantage of growing up poor was I got a healthy amount of grants from the Fasfa. The unfortunate part of growing up poor was it takes a toll on your mental health. My father was a gambling addict that was in and out of me and my siblings' lives. My mother was a single parent who couldn’t read and had anger issues. She was raised by Africans who would hit misbehaving children with a ceramic pot and leave them to heal their broken skulls on their own. My mother lived a very hard life, and so did me and my siblings. I want a better life for immigrants and their families moving forward. I wanted the best for my family no matter what happened. It drove me crazy when I went out to college and I wasn't there to support them. So crazy that I learned I wasn't just struggling with depression and anxiety, but with bipolar disorder. It landed me in inpatient treatment and now outpatient treatment. I forgot who I was. I thought I needed absolute silence, in the middle of the woods, in a cabin I built for myself when in reality I needed to get back into politics and help the working class and people of color. Remembering the George Flyod and Black Live Matter movement was a huge motivator to go back to school. I see police misusing their power all the time. Pulling over black men going 65 in a 60 mph zone. Situations where cops are putting black men on their knees and in cuffs for talking back. They aren't gods and should be viewed as such. We need to demilitarize and deflate the egos of cops. Hearing about black kids being shot for ringing the wrong doorbell by accident terrified me. My brother is only 13. Something like that can happen to him. I'm afraid every time he heads out the door. You never know what can happen. Turn out that when you're sick you start to miss a couple of classes and nearly drop out you end up owning Rutgers University some money back. Now I am back on track to helping those in need but first I need some help getting back to school. I have a lot of dreams. I want to become a lawyer or get into politics, but first I need some financial help. It would mean the world to me. Mental Health and Public Policy Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build safe houses where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want walkable cities. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

I grew up as a mixed-race African woman. My mother was from Ghana, my father was a white man from America. I grew up here in New Jersey. I looked very tan with curly long hair often being confused with being Hispanic. I am proud of my African roots but I love it here in America. This is my home. I grew up in poverty, living in and out of hotels and cars. We lived all over the state in whatever apartment we could afford. I never had my own room. The closest I got was a moldy basement that gave me bronchitis. I wanted more for people of color or people in poverty. That's why I got into politics in college. The one advantage of growing up poor was I got a healthy amount of grants from the Fasfa. The unfortunate part of growing up poor was it takes a toll on your mental health. My father was a gambling addict that was in and out of me and my siblings' lives. My mother was a single parent who couldn't read and had anger issues. I wanted the best for my family no matter what happened. It drove me crazy when I went out to college and I wasn't there to support them. I hated being around strangers, especially during the covid-19 pandemic. Strangers were gross and dangerous and out to get me. The South was full of a bunch of crazy racists who were out to get my brothers. The world was ending and I couldn't do anything about it but sit back and watch. I learned I wasn't just struggling with depression and anxiety but with bipolar disorder. It landed me in inpatient treatment and now outpatient treatment. I forgot who I was. I thought I needed absolute silence, in the middle of the woods, in a cabin I built for myself when in reality I needed to get back into politics and help the working class and people of color. The George Flyod and Black Live Matter movement was a huge motivator to go back to school, but I was still sick. Turn out that when you're sick you start to miss a couple of classes and nearly drop out you end up owning Rutgers University some money back. Now I am back on track to helping those in need but first I need some help getting back to school. I want to demilitarize the police. I want to get people off the streets and into affordable housing. I want to heal the nation. I want to unite white people and black with the common goal of finical stability. I want to take the abandoned houses in places like Detroit or closer to home like in South Jersey and rebuild them for low-income households instead of the constant luxury apartments no one can afford. I want to fight for unions for blue-collar jobs. All of the policy issues I want to fight for have a bigger impact on black households than white ones, but I want to fight for them all the same.

Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through a 10-hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, and there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to an F student within a summer's break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build a safe house where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am applying here.

Mental Health and Public Policy Mental health issues run in my family, and unfortunately so does the stigma against it. I found that out the hard way when I entered my final year of college at Rutger University. I was in the middle of a major depressive episode. I haven’t fully recovered from the fear of being in close quarters with people that I have gained from the covid pandemic. The idea of sitting next to another human being disgusted me. I just worked through an 10 hour shift at Applebees and the idea of going to class tomorrow sent me into a spiral. Rent was due, car payments were due, there was no time to study and go to school. I went from being a B- student to a F student within a summers break. My head wasn’t clear, the world was ending, I needed a break. I used to be so politically motivated, I was a Bernie Sanders fan and a public policy major after all. I used to care. I took a year off to realize I wasn’t depressed, I was bipolar. Now I am fresh out of the psych ward, which the nurses like to call Inpatient Treatment. I impressed all of the workers and patients there when I told them my diagnoses and my triggers, I was only there for a week. I told them I knew I was mentally ill. I need help coping so I can make a difference for other people struggling at my age. All of the nurses, social workers, and therapists said I should get into their fields, but I told them I wanted to work on a larger scale. I came back with a vengeance, I had thought of policy proposals that I wanted to use to make my professors proud. The only problem is if you fail 2 semesters straight you need some grants or some internships to make you whole again, at least at the school I chose. This is what brings me here, asking for a second chance. I have a million policy ideas that lean to the left. I want to expand public transit to South Jersey so people aren’t so reliant on cars. I want to create a program that renovates abandoned homes and gives them to low-income families. I want to deregulate pointless zoning laws so people can build a safe house where the exact size and appearance don’t matter. I want to build up small businesses and weaken the power held by corporate America. I want to invest in nuclear energy. I want to do a lot of things for the people, but I know I’m still young and need to learn how to negotiate and how the legislative process actually works. That’s why I am here.