As I stand on the precipice of my college journey, I find myself at a unique crossroads. My path forward is clear: I aspire to be a journalist who uses the power of words to highlight the stories of those who are impoverished and facing economic hardships, often due to the color of their skin or other societal factors. The inspiration behind this aspiration lies in my own life experiences, having navigated similar struggles and found my passion in helping others overcome adversity. Growing up, I witnessed the harsh reality of socioeconomic adversity. My family faced economic hardships, which made me acutely aware of the daily struggles that many individuals endure. It was not just about making ends meet; it was about facing systemic barriers, prejudices, and a lack of opportunity that seemed insurmountable. These experiences instilled in me a deep sense of empathy and a burning desire to create change. As a journalism major, my goal is to be the person who tells the stories that often go unheard. I want to be the voice of the voiceless, shedding light on the injustices faced by individuals who are trapped in the cycle of poverty, particularly those who bear the additional burden of discrimination based on their skin color or other factors. I believe that journalism has the power to hold a mirror up to society and compel us to confront these issues, to bring about change, and to challenge the status quo. My personal experiences have been instrumental in shaping my belief that socioeconomic adversity should not be a life sentence. I have seen firsthand how these struggles impact not only an individual's financial well-being but also their mental and emotional health, relationships, and overall quality of life. This perspective has made me more compassionate, resilient, and determined to help others overcome these obstacles. One of the defining moments of my life came when I witnessed the unwavering strength of my mother. As a single parent, she worked tirelessly to provide for our family, often holding down multiple jobs and persevering through difficult times. Her determination and resilience in the face of adversity were nothing short of remarkable. Her sacrifices served as a powerful example of what can be achieved through unwavering commitment. In addition to my family's experiences, I have witnessed the larger impact of socioeconomic adversity within my community. I have seen friends and neighbors struggle to access quality education, affordable healthcare, and economic opportunities. I have seen systemic inequalities perpetuated by policies that often overlook those who are most vulnerable. These observations have reinforced my belief that change is urgently needed.

One song that has an important message to me is Mariah Carey's "Outside". Though the song was written about Carey's life experiences growing up biracial in a time when the world wasn't as accepting as it has been moving towards, the song's message of feeling lost and out of place can be applied to so many facets and identities we experience in the world. "Neither here nor there, Always somewhat out of place everywhere" Carey sings in the opening lines. Feeling unseen is a universal experience, you cannot come across a single person in the world who could tell you that they have never felt this way. As a black man in the performing arts, I felt this far more than I believe anyone should have. Growing up around all these students who had the same love and interest as me but because of our differences in skin tone, we experienced different lives, where they could find comfort in seeing many around them who shared their looks, I had to learn and develop a love for myself in being different, praising myself on how I didn't fit in. On the flip side, I had my home, my community. Yet I still felt out of place there, we had similar life experiences and looks but we could never see the reasons behind each other's passions. "Early on, you face, The realization you don't have a space" she sings towards the bridge. This line truly summarizes my life and what I felt throughout all these years, the realization that I would always have to create my own space, my lane, and my community if I ever dreamed of feeling accepted. Without Mariah's words, I would have never realized my love for myself, an important message of living on the "Outside"

I have always wanted to pursue a career where I would be working in schools, I chose to pursue education because it gives me a chance to be hands on with students and truly cultivate an enviornment where I can help mold and inspired the minds of tommorow. Teachers are only second to parents when it comes to involvment in the developing lives of students. What happens in the classroom reflects how these students act in the real world, how they manage to work in the real world. As a student I learned that looking back on my life my biggest inspirations were my teachers, spending so much of my life with them it's hard for them not to be, because of this I feel that it is important for those who are teaching to actually be passionate and love their career, and I feel that I embody that passion. All of society benfits when students have teachers that inspire, support, and care for them. Many students come to school escaping abusive households, poverty, and many other hardships. What they need when they enter school grounds is a supportive team who they can feel is in their corner, I want to be that support. Growing up I was someone who needed that support system when I walked on campus. I remember times where I would walk onto campus and just head to my favorite teacher's class and just hug her and cry. She was my biggest support. That's what educators bring to society, so many teachers share stories of how they touch the lives of their students. I can't imagine what my life would have been if I didn't have that support system. So many other can agree with me, we see the stories everywhere. Students who keep in contact with teachers years later, or coming back to share their success year later, people who share stories about how their teachers saved their lives and inspired them to keep living. Teachers are very important to society, they are beyond just the people who educate us. Teaching is just a small part of what the role requires, the biggest part is helping students not only want to learn, but be in the rght headspace to be able to learn. That's the impact that I want to have on society when I have achived all my goals, the satisfaction that I have been there for a student and helped them onto the right path, taught them lessons beyond the tectbook, inspired them to want to go into the world and become someone of importance.

As a black musician, walking into choirs that aren't strictly gospel, auditions that aren't solely musical theatre or pop and r&b, I'm instantly put on the edge, like a mouse who has stepped foot into the lion's den. It's not hard to see that I don't belong; I'm not welcomed. That's been my constant battle every day I pursue my career in the arts. As P.O.C artists, we walk into an audition room and instantly see a sea of blondes and brunettes, reminding us we are walking into a world that is not made for us. Even when we have breakout artists like Paul Robeson and J'Nai Bridges and many other prominent black artists, we are still never respected. Their talents and accomplishments equated to them being diamonds in the rough. Baffled faces as I tell someone I'm singing a classical aria because "A black man doesn't sing opera." I've always struggled to find mentors because no one really wanted to take me on. I was new to them, an anomaly to their natural order. Comments about how "full" or "soulful" my voice was, or my favorite, the cold honest truth, "I don't know how to work with your type of voice." Professionals with years of training who couldn't work with my voice. That's why I work so hard to have a career in the arts. Representation matters, and it's essential to have it for younger generations. One face that's all I wanted, one face that looked like mine, a face that could tell me I was safe, I was okay! One person to say I have a voice like yours, one person to take me under their wing-like I saw so many of my white peers receive. I want more for us. I'm pursuing my career as a music educator to show younger generations that we can have this skin and sing in choirs; we can have this hair and be classical singers. Breaking down the look that has become ingrained into the professional singing world. Just one face being there who looks the same as those potential kids can inspire them. I want to train to be able to work with everyone's voices, not just the ones that fit my style and sound of singing. We deserve to be treated and seen as equals, and that starts with more of us developing the drive to pursue our careers in the arts.

As a black and queer man, I am no stranger to adversity and harsh criticism from the world. It’s become a a normal occurrence to me, a day to day thing that I’ve learned to just live with. At least I used to. There was once a time where I let the world through every obstacle against me, I’ve been denied jobs, show roles, and have been profiled in store because of my skin. While I’ve also been ostracized from both communities I thought I should find a home in. After years of this treatment though I had finally had enough, for the first time in years I have been vocal and speaking out against the cruelties of the world. Using my voice, my reach, my platforms to build up my communities by not only helping ourselves, but education how we treat those among our ranks. I constantly have to remind so many people that I have gay just as much as I am black, I will always fight for issues affect the that community. Just like I am just as black as I am gay. There is an intersectionality that exist between the two, because I cannot be me without the other. That’s what I fight for my communities to understand, that’s the hardship in life that gets me down. Trying to fight against the rampant homophobia engraved into the hearts and minds of the black community, while also trying to make places for black LGBTQ individuals to feel safe, welcomed, and heard. I want better for my community, I want the world to no longer force us to look down and pretend we are weak, less than or undeserving.

Growing up in the black community mental health, and the idea of having an mental illness isn’t acknowledged. We push the idea and the existence of them under the wrong and we are told to keep moving. I am tired of this though, we can’t keep pretending that we are above having a mental health issue, before they eat away at us completely. In my household my first brush with mental health issues was through my mom; She had Bipolar Depression disorder. For years after her diagnosis no-one helped my mom, they didn't take her seriously. “She's not crazy,” they would say. “Your mom doesn't need to take medication.” To them it was easier to just pretend she was okay than to help her, and little did they know how this would effect her kids. My mom would go onto constantly be in and out of the mental hospital, I’ve watched her attempt suicide through overdosing around 7 times, at the ripe young age of 8. I remember how shocked I was to learn that mental illnesses like depression are hereditary. After years of mental abuse by the hands of my “damaged but totally not crazy mother ” at 15 I took it upon myself to seek mental help, I refused to not be medicated, I refused to sweep my problems under the wrong. I was diagnosed with depression, and even thought to my family it was a “death” sentence for me it was the first time I finally knew myself and why I was the way I am. From then on I’ve always put my mental health and protecting my mind above all things. For a time I wanted to go into psychology just for the chance to help those who are told they aren’t “crazy” understand that needing help, wanting to talk to a professional, say “I’m not mental able to do this” doesn’t make you crazy and it never will. I’ve taken the time to change my friendships based how someone effected my mental, I’ve no longer subject myself to put up with things that are draining to me to please another. Denying mental health treatment, kills. Everyday I want to fight for little black boys and girls to take pride in their mental health, to no longer let generational beliefs that we can’t be depressed, to save themselves before the damage lines you so deep you can’t recover. Before I finally took my mental health seriously I tried multiple times to take my own life, it felt like the only option, I want a world where that feels like a thing of the past.

Coming out is a challenging and scary process. You never know how someone will react, and it can be so nerve-racking to let people in to see the real you. I was in that same position as so many other queer individuals, but coming out had opened me and bared my true self in ways that I could never be when I was in the closet. Some people like to establish that they are a person before they are gay, and that's okay. However, I believe I am a gay person in that order. Being gay isn't just a determining factor for my sexuality. It's who I am through and through, and when people didn't know that I was gay, I honestly felt that they weren't seeing me. Now don't get me wrong, there is no specific way to be gay, and there is no gay personality, but being gay is far more profound than just who you love. Being gay is accepting yourself; being gay is accepting a community of people who were told they are wrong, nasty, and different; being gay is knowing yourself and finally being in your skin. When I finally came out of that closet, it felt like a weight had lifted off my shoulders. I could finally be me and not have to hide; I could open my family and friends up to a culture so rich and full of love and color. Before coming out, I wouldn't invite my family to meet friends; they couldn't drop me off at parties or events, anything! I was living a double life, and every day it felt like I was walking onto a movie set getting into character when I came home. My family knew me, but they didn't see me. They didn't get to hear fun stories about my school day or what fun adventure I had at rehearsals. I had forced myself to be a stranger from the people who should have known me the best. I could see that it wasn't just hurting me but my family too. When I finally took the time to come out, it felt like my family had opened their eyes and seen me for the first time. No more smokescreen, no more lies, just me and everything I came with. It's been a blessing ever since to talk about boys with my mom and sister, telling them about my day and what happened in my life. To no longer be afraid of questions when they saw my friends. To be me truly and to NEVER have to play a role or character again.