I grew up in Brooklyn, New York, until I was 10, when my mom joined the army.

We moved to
Colorado and then permanently to Florida after she was discharged for a knee injury in boot
camp. My parents were never married. My dad always lived in Idaho (in the witness protection
program) after being released from prison years after I was born. I usually spent summers with
my dad and completed my associate's degree in Idaho. My dad has been the perfect example of
a man destined to fail but changed his life around. He has taught me many valuable lessons,
and I am forever grateful that I am his daughter. He was a son to two absent parents who
abused drugs and were involved in gangs. His dad died from AIDs when I was born. His mom,
my grandma Maggie, ultimately turned her life around after I was born and moved with us to
Florida. She was my everything; she made me feel special and loved every moment she got.
Unfortunately, her previous drug use and constant cigarette smoking caught her. She passed
away my senior year of high school from lung cancer, unable to see me graduate. I have a sister
who is 13 and a brother turning two, and a wonderful stepmom on my dad's side.
On my mom's side, I have two brothers, 20 and 8. I am the oldest. On my mom's side of the
family, whom I would say I primarily grew up with, I am the only girl, no girl cousins even, just
me. My mom raised us in the church, but my mom's actions strayed far from what we learned
to be okay at home. This gave me a skewed view of the church, and as I got older, I stopped
attending. My mom suffered as a child and thus passed along her hurt to us. She grew up never
knowing her dad and living with her drug-addicted mother. She dated a lot during my childhood
and ultimately married someone from the Marines when I was 13, the marriage lasted nine
years, and I wouldn't say I liked every moment. He was usually strict and disciplined us typically
daily. I did not have many friends since my upbringing made me shy, and I was not allowed
outside of my house, even if it was to play on the driveway. My mom was diagnosed with
bipolar and refused to accept it or treat it. My mom frequently said she loved me, but I did not
feel loved and grew up battling depression and eating disorders heavily. The norm in our house
was chaos; I attended maybe 30 schools in my life since we were poor and always getting
evicted. My grandma, Yolanda, came to live with us eight years after moving to Florida and
became sober off drugs. I could tell my mom did not forgive her. Still, I, on the other hand,
remembered her addicted stage but did not hold it against her. My grandma helped me during
the most challenging times in my life as a young adult and was always someone I could lean on;
she passed away last year from throat cancer.
My experiences drove me to later get guardianship over my older brother, who is now in my
care, and I have my youngest brother twice a week. My passion has always been helping
children who grew up with odds against them. I worked in daycares, a children's mental health
office, and immigration law firms. After completing my bachelor's, my goal is to attend law
school and become a juvenile defense attorney. I believe my trauma, and overcoming and
reclaiming my story through therapy, put me in the perfect position to fight for children whose
voices are often silenced. I have seen time and time again children being overlooked and just
brushed off as “bad” when in reality, there is an entire world they battle on their own. My
purpose is to fight for children and ensure they grow up to be a voice in their communities and
light to those in the dark.