Growing up in Kansas City, Missouri, I was exposed to gun violence, crime, and loss at a very young age. In a city where the murder rate and violence are constant topics in the news, tragedy can start to feel normal. But for me, it was never normal. It was personal. When I was around three years old, my uncle and aunt lost their lives to gun violence. At that age, I did not fully understand what had happened. I was too young to process death. What I did understand, though, was the way it affected my dad. I saw the emotions the anger, the pain, the sadness. I saw how deeply he loved his family. Even though I could not comprehend the situation, I could feel the weight of it in our home. That was my first experience with how violence changes a family forever. As I got older, the losses continued. In 2023, I lost another uncle to gun violence. This time it was different. I understood. I felt it. He was someone I had a real bond with, someone I could call, laugh with, and look up to. Losing him made everything hit harder. I realized how quickly someone you love can be here one day and gone the next. Then in 2024, I experienced even more loss. My grandmother passed away due to alcohol abuse. That hurt in a different way. It was painful knowing that addiction slowly took a toll on someone I loved. Just months later, I lost another uncle to drugs. It felt overwhelming, like grief kept stacking on top of grief. Toward the end of 2024, my grandfather passed away shortly after being released from jail. That loss brought complicated emotions sadness, and questions about how life circumstances can shape a person’s path. I have always struggled with how to process these emotions. Part of me feels shock, part of me feels anger, and part of me feels deep sadness. Sometimes I think, “I’ll never see them again. I’ll never be able to call them or hear their voices.” That reality is heavy. I’ve learned that I am very emotional, a lot like my dad. The difference is that I tend to suppress my feelings. I stay strong on the outside, even when I feel a lot on the inside. Although I have not consistently practiced meditation or journaling, I have found that being alone with my thoughts and reflecting has helped me understand myself better. Quiet reflection has shown me that I carry pain, but I also carry resilience. Each loss has forced me to mature faster than I expected. I have learned that life is fragile, time is limited, and the choices we make matter. One of the biggest reasons I chose to go to college was to remove myself from the environment that surrounded so much loss. I needed space to grow, think clearly, and build a different future. College represents more than education for me it represents safety, opportunity, and a chance to break cycles. I want to make my loved ones proud. Losing so many loved ones I've learned that life can change in an instant. It has taught me that I cannot take time for granted. Most importantly, it has taught me that I have a responsibility to live differently to build something meaningful. I go to college not only for myself, but for every family member whose life was cut short. Their stories push me forward. Their memory motivates me to succeed. And through my education, I hope to turn pain into purpose.

I am a young man from Kansas City, Missouri, where many kids grow up surrounded by distractions, violence, and limited expectations. In my neighborhood, it is common to see people choose the streets over school because it feels immediate and accessible. For many, college does not seem realistic. Success stories are rare, and sometimes survival feels more important than long-term goals. Growing up in that environment taught me how important it is to make intentional choices. It also showed me that if I wanted something different for my life, I would have to stay focused and disciplined. I learned early on that the decisions I make now will shape my future, and that I cannot allow myself to be distracted by what others think or do. I come from a family where no one has attended college, let alone an HBCU. There was no blueprint for me to follow. I had to figure things out step by step, asking questions, seeking guidance, and pushing myself to aim higher than what I saw around me. My mother played a major role in shaping my mindset. She led by example and showed me that it is possible to live with integrity and make responsible decisions, even when others take a different path. Because of her, I learned that your environment does not have to control your future. I also learned the importance of accountability, discipline, and staying true to my goals. Watching her navigate life with strength and focus taught me that leadership is not just about words — it’s about actions. Attending an HBCU means more to me than earning a degree. It represents a space where Black excellence, culture, and history are celebrated. It is an environment where I can learn from professors who understand the importance of representation and who push me to reach my highest potential. It means joining a legacy of resilience and achievement, and being part of a community that encourages each person to lead, innovate, and give back. For me, this opportunity is not just an academic experience — it is a chance to grow, to challenge myself, and to build the foundation for a life that can inspire others in my family and my community. Back home, younger kids look up to me. They tell me they wish they could do what I’m doing, and they see my journey as proof that it is possible to take a different path. Their admiration is not just encouragement — it is a responsibility. I cannot let them down. I have family counting on me, cheering me on, and believing in my success. Their faith pushes me to keep going, even when I face challenges or distractions. I know that I am not just pursuing my own dreams; I am showing the next generation that education and focus can create opportunities that the streets or distractions cannot. I plan to make a difference through both my actions and my choice of study. I want to lead by example, showing the younger generation that it is possible to rise above your circumstances. The streets will always be there, but opportunities like education and personal growth are rare and precious. I hope to show my peers and my community that with focus, discipline, and hard work, anything is possible. By staying committed to my studies, I aim to provide stability for my family, honor the sacrifices they have made for me, and inspire others to pursue a path of purpose and achievement. This journey is bigger than me. It is about setting a new standard for my family, creating hope in my community, and inspiring those who are watching me to believe in themselves. Every decision I make, every goal I achieve, and every challenge I overcome is a way to honor my family, my mentors, and the kids who look to me as an example. I have come this far, and I am determined to keep moving forward — not just for my own success, but for everyone who believes in me and is inspired by the life I am building. I know the road will not always be easy, but the lessons I have learned, the people who support me, and the opportunity to attend an HBCU give me the strength and motivation to continue. I am ready to embrace this path, stay focused, and use my education as a way to make a lasting difference in my family, my community, and myself.

Some of the most traumatic experiences in my life have come from losing people I love to substance abuse. I lost my uncle because of drugs, and it happened so fast that it didn’t feel real at first. One day he was here, and the next day he wasn’t. There was no warning and no time to prepare. Seeing how quickly drugs could take someone away scared me. It also made me realize how fragile life really is. Not long after that, I lost my grandmother due to alcohol abuse. Her situation was different from my uncle’s because it wasn’t sudden. It was something that slowly affected her over time. I watched alcohol impact her health and our family, and it hurt knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it. I loved her, and I wanted her to be okay, but I had to learn that you cannot control someone else’s choices. That feeling of being powerless was one of the hardest parts. Losing both of them changed the way I see drugs and alcohol. For some people, those things might seem normal or harmless, but to me they represent loss, pain, and broken families. I have seen the consequences up close. Because of that, I made a serious decision to stay sober. I don’t see it as missing out on anything. Instead, I see it as protecting myself and my future. Their deaths forced me to grow up and think more about the kind of life I want to live. I want stability. I want success. I want to be present for the people who care about me. Staying sober is part of that commitment. It is my way of breaking a cycle and choosing a different path. Even though I couldn’t save my uncle or my grandmother, I can honor them by making better choices for myself. I also give a lot of credit to my mom. She has always led by example, choosing not to use drugs and showing me that it’s okay to stand firm in your values, even when peers or family members make different choices. She taught me that strength sometimes means saying no. Because of her example and my own experiences, I try to lead by example for others. I want younger people around me to see that it is possible to choose a different path. It is okay to stay sober. It is okay to protect your future. One decision can change your life overnight, and I choose to make decisions that build my future instead of risking it.