I am a black girl from Long Island, New York, born to a Jamaican mother and a Nigerian father. Growing up with busy parents, I spent a lot of time in both my father's pharmacy and my aunt's hair salon. It was in those two places where I discovered my interest in understanding the things we put in our body and on our hair—which I now hope to study in my career. Because of my analytical nature, I’ve always excelled in math and science. This nature, combined with my unique experiences growing up with diverse identities, deepened my passion for social change. Long Island is one of the most segregated areas in the country. I realized this quickly when moving from my majority black and Latino town of Hempstead to the majority white and Asian town of Dix Hills at six years old, while still spending time at my father's pharmacy in a predominantly Latino neighborhood in Freeport. Exploring this segregated region, I've witnessed the disparities faced by minorities in various sectors. I saw how my access to resources increased when moving to a majority white neighborhood from a majority black and Latino one, and how academic performance hierarchies in my multiracial school reflected racial and ethnic divides. These experiences made me vow to center the advancement of minorities in my career. When I decided to study engineering, I knew this would be through the innovations I sought to create. Coming into UCLA, I aimed to create a natural hair care line for black women like myself—one that uses tiny nanoparticles to penetrate our hair shafts. However, UCLA introduced me to academic outreach, which has since become my focus. Mentoring for organizations like CRWND, Incorporated, and the Computational Thinking Equity Project has fueled my passion for bringing children of underrepresented backgrounds to the resources they need to succeed. I want other black and Latino students to feel smart and audacious enough to use their education to give back to their communities the same way I have. While I still want to develop my own hair care line, I believe more diverse perspectives will lead to countless innovations. As I begin my terms as Pre-College Initiatives Chairperson for UCLA’s National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) Chapter and Technical OutReach and Community Help (TORCH) Chairperson for our regional NSBE board, I plan to organize and execute programs that address educational inequities for black and brown children. I aim to continue this throughout my career. I hope my impact can not only come from what I do, but what I inspire others to do as well.

I am a black girl from Long Island, New York, born to a Jamaican mother and a Nigerian father. Growing up with busy parents, I spent lots of time in both my father's pharmacy and my aunt's hair salon. It was in those two places where I discovered my interest in understanding the things we put in our bodies and on our hair. Because of my analytical nature, I’ve always excelled in math and science. This nature plus my experiences growing up with diverse identities deepened my passion for affecting social change. Long Island is one of the most segregated areas in the country. I realized this quickly when moving from my majority black and Latino town of Hempstead to the majority white and Asian town of Dix Hills at six years old, while still spending time at my father's pharmacy in a predominantly Latino neighborhood in Freeport. Exploring this segregated region, I've witnessed the disparities faced by minorities in various sectors. I saw how my access to resources increased when moving to a majority white neighborhood from a majority black and Latino one, and how academic performance hierarchies in my multiracial school reflected racial and ethnic divides. These experiences led me to vow from an early age that I would center the advancement of minorities in my career. When I decided to study engineering, I knew this would be through the innovations I sought to create. Coming into UCLA, I knew the mark I left on this earth would be from creating a natural hair care line for black women like myself—theorizing one that uses nanoparticles to penetrate hair shafts. However, UCLA introduced me to a whole new world of academic outreach, which has since become my focus. Mentoring for organizations like CRWND, Incorporated, and the Computational Thinking Equity Project has fueled my passion for bringing children of underrepresented backgrounds to the resources they need to succeed. I want other black and Latino students to feel audacious enough to use their education to give back to their communities the same way I dream to. While I still want to have my hair care line, increased minority perspectives in total will lead to countless innovations. As I begin my terms as Pre-College Initiatives Chairperson for UCLA’s National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) Chapter, as well as Technical OutReach and Community Help (TORCH) Chairperson for our regional NSBE board, I plan to organize and execute programs addressing the growing inequities in educating black and brown children. I hope to carry this on throughout my career. It is never too early to feed the future, even if the future still lies within yourself. I am very grateful to attend the prestigious UCLA—one of the top twenty schools for my major. However, as an out-of-state student from New York, this has put an intense financial burden on myself and my family, forcing me to take out loans when scholarships were insufficient. I’ve realized that the more debt I graduate with, the less freedom I will have in determining my future path. I fear I may be forced to give up my dream of honoring my aunt by starting my hair care line. Additionally, I’ve learned that leading research into my own hair care line will likely require an advanced degree, which I would need to be financially comfortable to pursue. Winning this scholarship would alleviate my financial burden, allowing me to focus on my studies and entrepreneurial ambitions. It would provide me the freedom to pursue advanced research and innovation in hair care, honoring my aunt's legacy and empowering black engineers like myself.

Growing up, I’ve always loved experimenting with hair. I'd create concoctions with lotions, hand sanitizers, and perfumes to put in my dolls' hair before giving them rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt, ‘Auntie Keisha,’ who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige and Simone Smith. Her creativity made her a star and gave her the ability to help others shine. So, when she passed away, I knew that in my career I wanted to honor this gift. By then, I'd already started buying my own hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from skimming research articles or following chemists on YouTube. Years later, I’ve begun molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and pitching my ideas to those impacted. I’ve done all this to grow into the creative person who would make my aunt proud and will succeed in the hair care industry while attacking issues with the current market. As an engineer, I want to innovate products for a client demographic that looks like me, black women. According to various studies, 85% of African-Americans report using hair products that specifically cater to their hair type, black consumers spend nine times more on hair products compared to other ethnic groups, and black consumers are three times more likely to be dissatisfied than non-black consumers with their options for hair care, skin care, and makeup. I can attest to these statistics, as it’s why I’ve spent so much time investigating my hair. Yet I still haven't found a product that truly conditions my hair, especially for extensive periods. In my textured hair research, I’ve found that low molecular weight compounds penetrate deeper than higher molecular weight compounds. If this is the case, can’t I assume that products including compounds that are so small would be the best for moisturizing the hair shaft? Here I landed on my proposed solution: nanotechnology. When I read the literature, I learned researchers have found nanomaterials in hair treatments to have positive effects penetrating the scalp. I want to expand this research to center hair products containing nanomaterials affecting textured hair cuticles, and eventually formulate my own products in accordance. I’ve pitched this idea in business competitions such as the NSBE Fall Regional Conference Pitch competition and have received much support from my peers. When my aunt did hair for others, she made them feel beautiful and understood. Because of her, my educational goals revolve around researching how to make better hair products for the same women she served. I hope that in winning this scholarship, I can spend less time worrying about undergraduate loans and be assured I can complete the graduate research I’ll need to develop my products. While I believe I have the network, drive, and faith to eventually succeed, I hope this scholarship can grant me the financial security I need to do so.

As an engineer, I want to innovate products for a client demographic that looks like me, black women. Growing up, I’ve always loved experimenting with hair. I'd create concoctions with lotions, hand sanitizers, and perfumes to put in my dolls' hair before giving them rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt, ‘Auntie Keisha,’ who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and me. Her creativity made her a star and gave her the ability to help others shine. So, when she passed away, I knew that in my career, I wanted to honor this gift. By then, I'd already started buying my own hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from skimming research articles or following chemists on YouTube. Years later, I’ve begun molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and pitching my ideas to those impacted. I’ve done all this to grow into the creative person who would make my aunt proud and will succeed in the hair care industry on a mission to solve the issues with the current market. According to various studies, 85% of African-Americans report using hair products that specifically cater to their hair type, Black consumers spend nine times more on hair products compared to other ethnic groups, and Black consumers are three times more likely to be dissatisfied than non-Black consumers with their options for hair care, skin care, and makeup. I can attest to these statistics, as it’s why I’ve spent so much time investigating my hair. Yet I still haven't found a product that truly conditions my hair, especially for extensive periods. In my textured hair research, I’ve found that low molecular weight compounds penetrate deeper than higher molecular weight compounds. If this is the case, can’t I assume that products including compounds that are so small, nano even, would be the best for moisturizing the hair shaft? Here I landed on my proposed solution: nanotechnology. When I read the literature, I learned researchers have found nano-materials in hair treatments to have positive effects penetrating the scalp. I want to expand this research to center hair products containing nano-materials affecting textured hair cuticles, and eventually formulate my own products in accordance. I’ve pitched this idea in business competitions such as the NSBE Fall Regional Conference Pitch competition, and have received much support from my peers. When my aunt did hair for others, she made them feel beautiful and understood. Because of her, my educational goals revolve around researching how to make better hair products for the same women she served. I hope that in winning this scholarship, I can spend less time worrying about undergraduate loans and be assured I can complete the graduate research I’ll need to develop my products. While I believe I have the network, drive, and faith to eventually become successful, I hope this scholarship can grant me financial security to take off.

Being involved in STEM throughout high school, I’ve always been familiar with being the only black girl in the room. But coming to UCLA and seeing my underrepresentation persist at such large, elevated spaces has been truly humbling. I would go to classes feeling a need to excel in fear of enforcing stereotypes, just to be disregarded as soon as I spoke. I found myself isolated, but I knew I needed to seek change. First, I sought out diverse engineering organizations like the National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) and made it my mission to get involved. For example, I joined NSBE’s autonomous car project team despite it not relating with my major. I made sure not to miss any socials, and if I met other black engineers/scientists in my classes, I’d also refer them to NSBE. From there, I involved myself in outreach work, attacking engineering’s lack of diversity at the source. In helping plan our Women in Science and Engineering Day and Freshman Admit Weekend, I found hope in looking to the future. Getting involved in outreach introduced me to a whole new world of passion. So when I came across the CRWND, Incorporated Mentoring Organization application sent around in the Black Bruins GroupMe chat, I applied without thinking twice. I read the headlines about mentoring young black girls in Compton, not even knowing how I’d get there. However, I had a passion, so I knew I would make it work. Now, five months later, I’ve spent every Monday with my CRWND sisters—mentors and mentees—finding so much joy in the ways I’ve been influenced and able to influence our girls to brighter futures. I got this same feeling of passion when I applied to my current job with UCLA’s Center for the Transformation of Schools. To do the work, I had to find a way to commute from UCLA to a school in South Los Angeles once a week to provide extra help in Algebra 1 classrooms. The project aims to create pipelines for Black and Latinx students into STEM throughout the region, yet right after I was onboarded for the job, the only two other students involved had left after issues with having to commute. However, I stayed because—as my supervisor once said to me—“we have to go where the need is.” Since starting my job with UCLA’s Computational Thinking Equity Project (CTEP), I’ve gotten so much amazing feedback from the teacher whose class I support, as well as from my supervisor after our meeting. Through the feedback, I’ve learned just how much of an impact I’ve been able to have, and I’ve started to notice it myself as I witness students improve just after weeks of being afforded some necessary one-on-one instruction. Students who had missed classes were able to catch up in class periods where they never would’ve had the opportunity to. This work makes a difference, and I am so grateful to my project for allowing me to affect change. While I may not be able to see the project’s research goals fully come into fruition during my time as a mentor, I have definitely already seen its impact on me. Since indulging myself in outreach, I’ve centered my goals in STEM around community above individuality. I want to see a world where many more black students like myself can succeed in STEM. STEM is a unique field in how it breeds innovation, yet our lack of presence has left a gap that must be filled. This starts with outreach and education en masse, so I will continue to dedicate myself to the work.

When I first entered UCLA, I sought out the National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) and made it my mission to get involved. I joined NSBE’s autonomous car project team despite it not relating with my major. I made sure not to miss any socials, and if I met other black engineers/scientists in my classes, I’d also refer them to NSBE. From there, I learned about outreach work, attacking engineering’s lack of diversity at the source. In helping plan our outreach events, I found hope in looking to the future. Getting involved in outreach introduced me to a whole new world of passion. So when I came across the CRWND, Incorporated Mentoring Organization application sent around in the Black Bruins GroupMe, I applied without thinking twice. I read the headlines about mentoring young black girls in Compton, not even knowing how I’d get there. However, I had a passion, so I knew I would make it work. Now, five months later, I’ve spent every Monday with my CRWND sisters—mentors and mentees—finding so much joy in the ways I’ve been influenced and able to influence our girls to brighter futures. I got this same feeling of passion when I applied to my current job. To do the work, I had to find a way to commute from UCLA to a school in South Los Angeles once a week to provide support in Algebra 1 classrooms. The project aims to create pipelines for Black and Latinx students into STEM throughout the region, yet right after I was onboarded for the job, the only two other students involved had left after not wanting to commute. However, I stayed because—as my supervisor once said to me—“we have to go where the need is.” Since starting my job with the Computational Thinking Equity Project (CTEP), I’ve gotten so much amazing feedback from the teacher I support, as well as from my supervisor. Through the feedback, I’ve learned just how much of an impact I’ve been able to have, and I’ve started to notice it myself as I witness students improving just after weeks of being afforded some necessary one-on-one instruction. Students who had missed classes were able to catch up in class periods where they never would’ve had the opportunity to. This work makes a difference; I’m so grateful to my project for allowing me to affect change. While I may not be able to see the project’s goals fully come into fruition during my time as a mentor, I have definitely already seen its impact on me. Since indulging myself in outreach, I’ve centered my goals in STEM around community above individuality. I want to see a world where many more minority students like myself can succeed in STEM. STEM is unique in how it breeds innovation, yet our lack of presence has left a gap that must be filled. This starts with outreach and education en masse, so I will continue to dedicate myself to the work. While at UCLA, I’ve been afforded a multitude of opportunities—most from outreach efforts supporting me. One of the greatest has been attending NSBE’s 50th National Conference in Atlanta, Georgia, where I met recruiters for Procter & Gamble (P&G). P&G had accepted me for their own outreach program, the Emerging Leaders Standout Camp. Among the recruiters I met, I connected with a black woman who happened to be on the same committee that accepted me for the camp. To me, she is a blueprint on how to further support outreach during my professional career. I hope to follow in her footsteps and create more as I go.

Being involved in STEM throughout high school, I’ve always been familiar with being the only black girl in the room. But coming to UCLA and seeing my underrepresentation persist at such large, elevated spaces has been truly humbling. I would go to classes feeling a need to excel in fear of enforcing stereotypes, just to be disregarded as soon as I spoke. I found myself isolated, but I knew I needed to seek change. First, I sought out diverse engineering organizations like the National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) and made it my mission to get involved. For example, I joined NSBE’s autonomous car project team despite it not relating with my major. I made sure not to miss any socials, and if I met other black engineers/scientists in my classes, I’d also refer them to NSBE. From there, I involved myself in outreach work, attacking engineering’s lack of diversity at the source. In helping plan our Women in Science and Engineering Day and Freshman Admit Weekend, I found hope in looking to the future. Getting involved in outreach introduced me to a whole new world of passion. So when I came across the CRWND, Incorporated Mentoring Organization application sent around in the Black Bruins GroupMe chat, I applied without thinking twice. I read the headlines about mentoring young black girls in Compton, not even knowing how I’d get there. However, I had a passion, so I knew I would make it work. Now, five months later, I’ve spent every Monday with my CRWND sisters—mentors and mentees—finding so much joy in the ways I’ve been influenced and able to influence our girls to brighter futures. I got this same feeling of passion when I applied to my current job with UCLA’s Center for the Transformation of Schools. To do the work, I had to find a way to commute from UCLA to a school in South Los Angeles once a week to provide extra help in Algebra 1 classrooms. The project aims to create pipelines for Black and Latinx students into STEM throughout the region, yet right after I was onboarded for the job, the only two other students involved had left after issues with having to commute. However, I stayed because—as my supervisor once said to me—“we have to go where the need is.” Since starting my job with UCLA’s Computational Thinking Equity Project (CTEP), I’ve gotten so much amazing feedback from the teacher whose class I support, as well as from my supervisor after our meeting. Through the feedback, I’ve learned just how much of an impact I’ve been able to have, and I’ve started to notice it myself as I witness students improve just after weeks of being afforded some necessary one-on-one instruction. Students who had missed classes were able to catch up in class periods where they never would’ve had the opportunity to. This work makes a difference, and I am so grateful to my project for allowing me to affect change. While I may not be able to see the project’s research goals fully come into fruition during my time as a mentor, I have definitely already seen its impact on me. Since indulging myself in outreach, I’ve centered my goals in STEM around community above individuality. I want to see a world where many more black students like myself can succeed in STEM. STEM is a unique field in how it breeds innovation, yet our lack of presence has left a gap that must be filled. This starts with outreach and education en masse, so I will continue to dedicate myself to the work.

As an engineer, I want to innovate better products for a client demographic that looks like me, other black women. When Mellisa Butler founded The Lip Bar, she aimed to serve other black women with lip products that suited our complexions. When Monique Rodriguez launched Mielle, she sought to serve black women’s hair follicles with quality products with natural ingredients. Their “why” is also to serve other black women; however I actually learned this ideal firsthand from my aunt. I’ve always liked experimenting with hair. When I was younger, I'd create concoctions with lotion, hand sanitizer, and perfumes to put in my dolls' hair before giving them pencil rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt, ‘Auntie Keisha,’ who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and me. My Auntie Keisha always had a tease to tell, a smile to share, and an outfit to show off. She’d always been my favorite aunt because she was creative in everything she did. She beautified other black women with her magic tools and, in the process, helped them see their beauty. Her creativity made her a star and gave her the unique ability to help other stars do the same. So, when she passed away, I knew that in my career, I wanted to honor this gift. Years later, I’ve begun molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, pitching my ideas to others they may impact, and applying to colleges for chemical engineering. I’ve done all this to grow into the creative person who would make my aunt proud and will succeed in the haircare industry on a mission to solve the issues so many other black women have also had with the current market. However, in applying to schools, I ended up being accepted to and attending the prestigious University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), one of the top twenty schools for my major. As an out of state student from New York, this has put an intense financial burden on myself and my family, forcing me to apply to a multitude of scholarships and take out loans when those were not sufficient. While engineering itself has a high return of investment when working in industry, I’ve realized over the past year that the more debt I graduate with, the less freedom I will have in determining my future path in engineering. With loans to pay off, I may be forced to take higher paying jobs in fields I do not enjoy, and even worse, give up my dream of honoring my aunt with the risk of starting my own hair care line. Additionally, I’ve learned that starting or leading research into my own hair care line will likely require some sort of advanced degree, which I would be more prepared to pursue if I find myself financially comfortable after completing my undergraduate degree. In my career, I want to center the research on hair products containing nano-materials in their effects on the hair cuticles of black women with textured hair. From there, I hope to make my own hair products to fill this gap in the market. I’ve pitched this idea in business competitions such as the National Society of Black Engineers Fall Region Conference Pitch competition, and have received much support from my peers. I want to win this scholarship so I can keep displaying my learned passion for serving black women in the future of not only my educational, but also my occupational career.

As an engineer, I want to innovate better products for a client demographic that looks like me, other black women. When Mellisa Butler founded The Lip Bar, she aimed to serve other black women with lip products that suited our complexions. When Monique Rodriguez launched Mielle, she sought to serve black women’s hair follicles with quality products with natural ingredients. Their “why” is also to serve other black women; however I actually learned this ideal firsthand from my aunt. I’ve always liked experimenting with hair. When I was younger, I'd create concoctions with lotion, hand sanitizer, and perfumes to put in my dolls' hair before giving them pencil rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt, ‘Auntie Keisha,’ who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and me. Auntie Keisha always had a tease to tell, a smile to share, and an outfit to show off. She’d always been my favorite aunt because she was creative in everything she did. She beautified other black women with her magic tools and, in the process, helped them see their beauty. Her creativity made her a star and gave her the unique ability to help other stars do the same. So, when she passed away, I knew that in my career, I wanted to honor this gift. By then, I'd already started buying my hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from casually skimming research articles or listening to chemists on YouTube. Years later, I’ve begun molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and pitching my ideas to others they may impact. I’ve done all this to grow into the creative person who would make my aunt proud and will succeed in the haircare industry on a mission to solve the issues so many other black women have also had with the current market. According to various studies, 85% of African Americans report using hair care products that specifically cater to their hair type, Black consumers spend nine times more on hair care products compared to other ethnic groups, and Black consumers are three times more likely to be dissatisfied than non-Black consumers with their options for hair care, skin care, and makeup. I can report growing up with textured hair and often feeling unsatisfied with all the products I used. That is why I watched all the natural hair influencers and cosmetic chemists on YouTube, taught myself hair porosity and the ins and outs of a cuticle, and I took the advice from all streams for years. Yet I still haven't found a product that truly lets my hair feel moisturized, especially for extensive time periods. In my research into textured hair, I found that low molecular weight compounds penetrate deeper than larger compounds. So if this is the case, can’t I assume that products including compounds that are so small, nano even, would be the best in moisturizing the hair shaft? This is where I landed on my solution: nanotechnology. When I looked into the literature on this topic, I found that past researchers have found nano-materials in hair treatments to have positive effects on the scalp due to their ability to penetrate it so deeply. I want to expand this research. When my aunt did hair for others, she made them feel beautiful and understood in their deepest desires. Because of her, my goal in finishing my education is to research how to make better hair products for the same women she worked for.

When Mellisa Butler founded The Lip Bar, she aimed to serve other black women with lip products that suited our complexions. When Monique Rodriguez launched Mielle, she sought to serve black women’s hair follicles with quality products with natural ingredients. Their “why” is to serve other black women, an ideal I learned firsthand from my aunt, Keisha. I’ve always liked experimenting with hair. When I was younger, I'd create concoctions with lotion, hand sanitizer, and perfumes to put in my dolls' hair before giving them pencil rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt, ‘Auntie Keisha,’ who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and me. Auntie Keisha always had a tease to tell, a smile to share, and an outfit to show off. She’d always been my favorite aunt because she was creative in everything she did. She beautified other black women with her magic tools and, in the process, helped them see their beauty. Her creativity made her a star and gave her the unique ability to help other stars do the same. So, when she passed away, I knew that in my career, I wanted to honor this gift. By then, I'd already started buying my hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from casually skimming research articles or listening to chemists on YouTube. Years later, I’ve begun molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and searching for cosmetic industry internships. I’ve done all this to grow into the creative person who would make my aunt proud and will succeed in the haircare industry. Now, whenever I’m asked what I want to achieve in my career, I tell them I want to research nanotechnology in hair care. I tell them about my aunt, my childhood, and how most hair products that have already been engineered have failed not only me but also many of my fellow black sisters. I tell them about the hard work I’ve done to get where I am and more of the work I’ll need to do to get where I am going. Most of all, I tell them that the reason I’ve worked so hard to get to a place where my goals are so feasible is because of the miracles I’ve seen firsthand whenever my aunt made another black woman feel beautiful down from root to tip. When my aunt did hair for others, she made them feel beautiful and understood in their deepest desires. Because of her, my goal in finishing my education is to be able to research how to make better hair products for the same women she worked for. During her time on earth, she blessed me with some of her magic. Now, it’s my turn to send it into the universe.

When Mellisa Butler founded The Lip Bar, her goal was to serve other black women with lip products that suited our complexions. When Monique Rodriguez founded Mielle, her goal was to serve Black women’s hair follicles with quality products with natural ingredients. The “why” behind their drives is as black as their skin and as deep as the melanin that permeates it. Their “why” is to serve other black women—a "why" I absorbed years ago why my favorite aunt. I have always liked experimenting with hair. When I was younger, I'd create concoctions with lotion, hand sanitizer, and random bathroom chemicals to put in my dolls' hair before giving them box braids or pencil rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt Keisha who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and also me. She beautified other black women with her magic tools, and in the process, helped them see their hidden queen. Her work brought women who looked like the two of us so much joy, so when she passed, I knew exactly what special way I would honor her: I began looking into cosmetic engineering. By the time I made this choice, I'd already started to buy my own hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from casually skimming research articles or listening to cosmetic chemists on Youtube. Years later, I began molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and searching for internships. I began doing everything I could to permit myself to grow into the creative person I’d need to be to succeed in my profession, and I did so very well. Now, whenever I’m asked what I want to achieve in my career, I tell them I want to research nanotechnology in hair care. I tell them about my aunt, my childhood, and how most hair products that have already been engineered have failed not only me but also many of my fellow black sisters. I tell them about the hard work I’ve done to make it here, and especially how the reason that I’ve worked so hard to get to a place where my goals are so feasible is because of the magic I’d seen first hand whenever a black woman was made to feel beautiful down from root to tip. As a black female student, I will walk into my education with a black perspective, and walk out with knowledge on how to improve life for all living through my same lens. Therefore, when my black female future is invested in, that is one more investment for black advancements, and the black community as a whole. There is no better investment than one that gives back—truly none else.

When Mellisa Butler founded The Lip Bar, her goal was to serve other black women with lip products that suited our complexions. When Monique Rodriguez founded Mielle, her goal was to serve Black women’s hair follicles with quality products with natural ingredients. The “why” behind their drives are as black as their skin and as deep as the melanin that permeates it. I have always liked experimenting with hair. When I was younger, I'd create concoctions with lotion, hand sanitizer, and random bathroom chemicals to put in my dolls' hair before giving them box braids or pencil rod sets. I wanted to be like my favorite aunt Keisha who once did hair for greats like Mary J. Blige, Simone Smith, and also me. She beautified other black women with her magic tools, and in the process, helped them see their hidden queen. Her work brought women who looked like the two of us so much joy, so when she passed, I knew exactly what special way I would honor her: I began looking into cosmetic engineering. By the time I made this choice, I'd already started to buy my own hair products—and instead of checking what lotions or hand sanitizers they contained, I knew what silicones, alcohols, and humectants to look for from casually skimming research articles or listening to cosmetic chemists on Youtube. Years later, I began molding my coursework around chemistry and physics, working in my father’s pharmacy, and searching for internships. I began doing everything I could to permit myself to grow into the creative person I’d need to be in order to succeed in my profession, and I did so very well. Now, whenever I’m asked what I want to achieve in my career, I tell them I want to research nanotechnology in hair care. I tell them about my aunt, my childhood, and how most hair products that have already been engineered have failed not only me but also many of my fellow black sisters. I tell them about the hard work I’ve done to make it here, and especially how the reason that I’ve worked so hard to get to a place where my goals are so feasible is because of the magic I’d seen first hand whenever a black woman was made to feel beautiful all the way down from root to tip. As a black female student, I will walk into my education with a black perspective, and walk out with knowledge on how to improve life for all living through my same lens. Therefore, when my black female future is invested in, that is one more investment for black advancements, and the black community as a whole. I believe this commitment is why I should receive the HM Family scholarship. There is no better investment than one that gives back—truly none else.

Over my seventeen years of living, I've been a dedicated cheerleader, curious physics connoisseur, growing fashion designer and more. These labels paint who I am, and to become all those things, I first had to learn. I love the wisdom in learning, the empathy in understanding, and the creativity in digging deep. I love throwing around “Did you know?”, “it’s because,” and starting tangents that start with God knows what words. It’s exhilarating when answers come easy, but I love most when learning demands your all, when understanding ideas threatens your peace, and the depth of knowledge eats at your soul. I learned this through the most difficult lesson of all: understanding my older sister. Naomi was born just two years before me; we shared our first homes, first schools—first everything. She was the first to recognize my eagerness to learn. After my school days were over, she’d teach me what she learned in hers, from writing the alphabet in cursive to advanced algebra. Together we danced to my keyboard’s demo songs and sang to Beyonce, but these experiences would eventually exist only in my memories as her demeanor toward me grew to reflect only discomfort. She went from leaning into my hugs to needing to be at least three feet apart. When I was just twelve years old, she cut me off completely. I tried everything to keep her attention, but she wouldn’t budge. Whenever I tried explaining this to others, everyone—even adults—would assure me this behavior would pass, but I knew that wasn’t true. Real answers came only when my mom took me to therapy, where she was asked a question I wished I’d pondered before. The therapist inquired, “Does anyone in the family have a history of mental illness?” To which my mom replied, “Well, my first daughter was once diagnosed with OCD—.” I immediately froze in my seat. I salvaged my brain for everything I knew about those three letters. Obsessive. Compulsive. Disorder. Just knowing of her disorder allowed me to blame her actions on it; it shielded me from having to interrogate where and why I fit in. I was satisfied with my surface-level understanding. I didn’t go the extra mile as I had for everything else I’d learned in my life. The possibility of learning I triggered her disorder was too much to bear, and the possibility of understanding we’d never speak again would break me. I refused to go deeper until I noticed myself mirroring my sister’s behaviors—crying when my mom reorganized my dresser, and feeling like I couldn’t breathe around boys who liked me unrequitedly. While I had little control, my actions had consequences too. When I saw my past hurt mirrored on others, I knew I had to begin researching the disorder that terrified me. I found a site listing obsessions, or “intrusive thoughts.” These included fears of contamination, illegal activity, and even immorality. I learned that these fears had no real basis and that compulsions, like my sister’s avoiding, were just ways to cope with these fears. The more I learned, the more I empathized with my sister’s behaviors and controlled my own. While OCD may never allow me to truly understand my sister aside from her disorder, I’ve learned a much greater lesson about myself. I learned that I am strong enough to handle the answers I desire, and am more than capable of obtaining them. I learned that I am more than capable of digging deeper, regardless of how frightening it may be. I’ve learned that knowledge can never break me, but my ability to learn constantly is instead my greatest strength in navigating this world. Because I am a learner, an understander, a knowledge-witholder, I will be able to take whatever lessons life throws at me, whether that’s organic chemistry or microsociology. As long as I continue to learn, I know I am fulfilling my life’s purpose.