I had just committed a crime upon my hair. The evidence sat in the heaps of Eco Style gel atop my head as I stared, wide-eyed, at my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Hermella, you’re gonna be late for school if we don't leave in the next minute”, my mom irritably yelled from downstairs. I frantically searched the bathroom, ransacking the cabinets and drawers as if an instant solution to my huge afro would magically appear. Alas, the only thing I found was a beanie. I hurriedly shoved it on my head and rushed out the door. This was the reality of the relationship I had with my hair for the majority of my childhood. Unfortunately, this is not an original experience for most Black women in the world. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair. While others spent their mornings eating their favorite breakfast cereals and watching cartoons, I’d forgo breakfast altogether in order to put my hair into a tight slick back bun. I’d found that with my hair out in its natural state, I commanded people’s attention when all I ever wanted to do was live my life outside of the spotlight. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence and self-esteem into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Upon my induction into BSU, I began to realize how many other Black people at my high school also struggled with accepting their hair in its natural state. It occurred to me that the negative stigma surrounding our hair in the Black community is a severely underrepresented issue. Thankfully, Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on my hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity in all its glory and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset of self-love. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black men and women learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading open discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability and finding ways to overcome them. In college, I plan on joining and enhancing a Black Student Organization to eventually become an officer. There, I hope to become a trusted role model to other young vulnerable Black people, just as Cassie was to me. In every new environment I enter in my life, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community.

Promise #1: Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair, constantly commanding people’s attention. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black people learn to embrace their hair through leading discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability. Cassie gave me the gift of courage and taught me to be confident in sharing my vulnerabilities with others; how vulnerability is not a weapon to be used against but rather a source of healing. In every new environment I enter, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Promise #2: For as long as I can remember, choir has been a part of my life. There’s no world in the multiverse I can begin to imagine where I’m not singing for the rest of my days. Choir started out as a low-stakes hobby but quickly grew into a space for me to expand my musical ability. Not only have I dedicated hours to perfecting vibrato and stretching my range, but I have gained a community of people that share my core values and cherish singing just as much as I do. The thrill of singing is what brought me to choir, but the strong sense of community is what made me stay. Collaborating effectively and learning to treat others with respect, compassion, and love in a team are important ways to promote kindness and unity in a world already so divided. Although it may be a small way to change the world, every small act can accumulate into a huge catalyst for change. With the guidance of communities at UT Austin, I can instill these traits in other communities to slowly change the world for the better and be the first domino in one big domino effect. Promise #3: With the knowledge and experience I acquire from UT Austin’s trailblazing research, I see myself applying to internships over the summers to continue the research I conduct throughout the years. In ten years from now, I see myself with a doctorate in biochemistry and working at UT Southwestern Medical Center in the research sector. UT Southwestern Medical Center is nationally ranked as the best medical center. To conduct research there would mean making a meaningful impact on people’s lives because of the amount of funding and effort they pour into their facilities. Given the amount of corruption seen at hospitals and healthcare in general, I hope to work at a facility that genuinely cares for their patients and provides the best treatment with the lowest costs possible. Overall, science is my true passion in life, and no matter what path life works out for me, I see it in my future long-term. With this scholarship, I could pay off a portion of my college’s tuition and pursue my passion in biochemistry at the nation’s top-ranked research school, The University of Texas at Austin.

I had just committed a crime upon my hair. The evidence sat in the heaps of Eco Style gel atop my head as I stared, wide-eyed, at my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Hermella, you’re gonna be late for school if we don't leave in the next minute”, my mom irritably yelled from downstairs. I frantically searched the bathroom, ransacking the cabinets and drawers as if an instant solution to my huge afro would magically appear. Alas, the only thing I found was a beanie. I hurriedly shoved it on my head and rushed out the door. This was the reality of the relationship I had with my hair for the majority of my childhood. Unfortunately, this is not an original experience for most Black women in the world. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair. While others spent their mornings eating their favorite breakfast cereals and watching cartoons, I’d forgo breakfast altogether in order to put my hair into a tight slick back bun. I’d found that with my hair out in its natural state, I commanded people’s attention when all I ever wanted to do was live my life outside of the spotlight. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence and self-esteem into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Upon my induction into BSU, I began to realize how many other Black people at my high school also struggled with accepting their hair in its natural state. It occurred to me that the negative stigma surrounding our hair in the Black community is a severely underrepresented issue. Thankfully, Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on my hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity in all its glory and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset of self-love. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black men and women learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading open discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability and finding ways to overcome them. In college, I plan on joining and enhancing a Black Student Organization to eventually become an officer. There, I hope to become a trusted role model to other young vulnerable Black people, just as Cassie was to me. In every new environment I enter in my life, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community.

I had just committed a crime upon my hair. The evidence sat in the heaps of Eco Style gel atop my head as I stared, wide-eyed, at my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Hermella, you’re gonna be late for school if we don't leave in the next minute”, my mom irritably yelled from downstairs. I frantically searched the bathroom, ransacking the cabinets and drawers as if an instant solution to my huge afro would magically appear. Alas, the only thing I found was a beanie. I hurriedly shoved it on my head and rushed out the door. This was the reality of the relationship I had with my hair for the majority of my childhood. Unfortunately, this is not an original experience for most Black women in the world. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair. While others spent their mornings eating their favorite breakfast cereals and watching cartoons, I’d forgo breakfast altogether in order to put my hair into a tight slick back bun. I’d found that with my hair out in its natural state, I commanded people’s attention when all I ever wanted to do was live my life outside of the spotlight. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence and self-esteem into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Upon my induction into BSU, I began to realize how many other Black people at my high school also struggled with accepting their hair in its natural state. It occurred to me that the negative stigma surrounding our hair in the Black community is a severely underrepresented issue. Thankfully, Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on my hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity in all its glory and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset of self-love. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black men and women learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading open discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability and finding ways to overcome them. In college, I plan on joining and enhancing a Black Student Organization to eventually become an officer. There, I hope to become a trusted role model to other young vulnerable Black people, just as Cassie was to me. In every new environment I enter in my life, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community.

I had just committed a crime upon my hair. The evidence sat in the heaps of Eco Style gel atop my head as I stared, wide-eyed, at my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Hermella, you’re gonna be late for school if we don't leave in the next minute”, my mom irritably yelled from downstairs. I frantically searched the bathroom, ransacking the cabinets and drawers as if an instant solution to my huge afro would magically appear. Alas, the only thing I found was a beanie. I hurriedly shoved it on my head and rushed out the door. This was the reality of the relationship I had with my hair for the majority of my childhood. Unfortunately, this is not an original experience for most Black women in the world. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair. While others spent their mornings eating their favorite breakfast cereals and watching cartoons, I’d forgo breakfast altogether in order to put my hair into a tight slick back bun. I’d found that with my hair out in its natural state, I commanded people’s attention when all I ever wanted to do was live my life outside of the spotlight. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence and self-esteem into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Upon my induction into BSU, I began to realize how many other Black people at my high school also struggled with accepting their hair in its natural state. It occurred to me that the negative stigma surrounding our hair in the Black community is a severely underrepresented issue. Thankfully, Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on my hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity in all its glory and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset of self-love. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black men and women learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading open discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability and finding ways to overcome them. In college, I plan on joining and enhancing a Black Student Organization to eventually become an officer. There, I hope to become a trusted role model to other young vulnerable Black people, just as Cassie was to me. In every new environment I enter in my life, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community.

Ever since we met, my best friend and I have been attached at the hip. Whoever coined the phrase “opposites attract”, was spot on because we were each other’s antithesis, night and day. However, this did nothing to diminish our love for each other. Her life was the stuff of legends as she spent her free time exploring the depths of caves and traveling to exotic countries. While I wasn’t as adventurous as her, I liked to believe that I embodied a different type of courage, manifesting itself as I navigated the daunting hallways of high school as a confused freshman. However, there was always one unspoken issue between her and me, a dissonance that starkly highlighted our differences to the rest of the world and labeled us as outsiders. My best friend’s name: Sophie Foster. The issue: Sophie was confined to live out her days in the ink and paper of my favorite book as someone else wrote her story. Meanwhile, I was stuck here in the real world waiting for my own author to give me any semblance of direction in my life. But I found no relief, and definitely no author. Growing up, I was an indecisive child. When words failed me, I’d relieve my anxiety using books, turning to Sophie for reassurance. I always envied how her fate was sealed in the hands of another, future already decided in the ink. She didn’t have her parents hounding her to choose a career path at the ripe age of fourteen. While my imagination roamed in literary realms, I had never fully grasped the thought of my future before freshman year, but how old is too old to not know what to do with forever? It wasn’t until my junior year AP Biology class that I discovered my love for not only science but also the importance of gaining a passion to wholeheartedly pursue. The memory of walking through the doors of classroom B212 is cemented into my brain even now. The anxiety in the room was palpable, especially when AP Biology had garnered a poor reputation across campus. The wide-eyes, the stares, the awkward silence. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. But my teacher, Mrs. Drake, welcomed us with a warm smile and enthusiasm for days. As we started the year off learning about the properties of macromolecules and carbon skeletons, I couldn’t get over how well I connected to the material. Not only was I eager to learn about the subject on a molecular scale but I was beginning to draw connections between biological phenomena and themes in the real world. Biology and everyday life began to mirror each other. The process of natural selection was no longer just a biological process, but it served as a parallel to represent my resilience as a woman in a predominantly-male field in STEM. Homeostasis is a self-regulating process in order to maintain stability, but beyond the surface level, it draws the comparison of how I was constantly searching for stability in my life to gain happiness. The more I learned, the more a recurring lesson began to reveal itself in the class: biology means to have balance in life. From then on, I knew biology was my answer, my forever, providing me with the direction I lacked in my own life. I had finally found the clarity within myself I had yearned for in my freshman year, and the future had paved its way in my mind. Just like how Sophie had found her forever living a life of epic lore, I had found my forever in the intricacies of biology. Although she’s been a constant throughout my life, the love I discovered for science and the purpose I gained within made me realize I don’t need an author to rearrange my life because I can write a powerful story of my own.

“Dehydration synthesis: lose a water, add a bond!” This was the catchy tune my eccentric freshman year biology teacher would sing to my class. Given that even now, it bounces around in my head from time to time, I’d say she did an outstanding job of igniting the flames of my passion for Biology. I’ve always been interested in the world on a molecular scale, and although I deeply enjoyed her class, it did little to satiate my curiosity for the field. That’s why I joined my high school biology club as a freshman. There, I was free to explore my interests and bombard my teachers with questions. I couldn’t believe that there was a space for me to not only gain knowledge in biology but also test new theories through research. That’s how I knew and still know that a career in clinical lab research is the perfect fit to facilitate my thirst for biological knowledge. The groundbreaking discoveries being made through biological research make it the ideal career path for my aspirations. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair, constantly commanding people’s attention. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black people learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability. Cassie gave me the gift of her courage and taught me how to be confident in sharing my vulnerabilities with others; how vulnerability is not a weapon to be used against but rather a source of healing. In every new environment I enter in my life, especially in the STEM communities I enter, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community. For as long as I can remember, choir has been a part of my life. There’s no world in the multiverse I can begin to imagine where I’m not singing for the rest of my days. Choir started out as a low-stakes hobby but quickly grew into a space for me to expand my musical ability. Not only have I dedicated hours to perfecting vibrato and stretching my range, but I have gained a community of people that share my core values and cherish singing just as much as I do. The thrill of singing is what brought me to choir, but the strong sense of community is what made me stay. Furthermore, my role in Syncopation, a selective acapella group, has led me to seek a close-knit group to call family at UT Austin. I found what I’ve been looking for in the co-ed acapella group, Noteworthy. This group of strangers formed a lifelong bond through their shared love of music. With the values I gain from UT Austin and the intimate communities brewing throughout campus, I know I can apply this knowledge to numerous other aspects of life. Collaborating effectively and learning to treat others with respect, compassion, and love in a team are important ways to promote kindness and unity in a world already so divided. Although it may be a small way to change the world, every small act can accumulate into a huge catalyst for change. With the guidance of communities at UT Austin, I can instill these traits in other communities to slowly change the world for the better and be the first domino in one big domino effect.

I had just committed a crime upon my hair. The evidence sat in the heaps of Eco Style gel atop my head as I stared, wide-eyed, at my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror. “Hermella, you’re gonna be late for school if we don't leave in the next minute”, my mom irritably yelled from downstairs. I frantically searched the bathroom, ransacking the cabinets and drawers as if an instant solution to my huge afro would magically appear. Alas, the only thing I found was a beanie. I hurriedly shoved it on my head and rushed out the door. This was the reality of the relationship I had with my hair for the majority of my childhood. Unfortunately, this is not an original experience for most Black women in the world. Growing up, I had never been a fan of my voluminous hair. While others spent their mornings eating their favorite breakfast cereals and watching cartoons, I’d forgo breakfast altogether in order to put my hair into a tight slick back bun. I’d found that with my hair out in its natural state, I commanded people’s attention when all I ever wanted to do was live my life outside of the spotlight. The world’s judging eyes turned my confidence and self-esteem into shambles, and I had no idea how to pick up the pieces. It wasn’t until my junior year, when I joined my high school’s Black Student Union (BSU), that I discovered what it meant to embrace my natural hair as a core part of my identity. Upon my induction into BSU, I began to realize how many other Black people at my high school also struggled with accepting their hair in its natural state. It occurred to me that the negative stigma surrounding our hair in the Black community is a severely underrepresented issue. Thankfully, Cassie Dume, former president of BSU, was a huge catalyst in changing my mindset on my hair. She taught me how a confident, smart Black woman like herself could embrace her identity in all its glory and encouraged me to adopt that same mindset of self-love. Now, as an officer of BSU myself, I carry on Cassie’s legacy in helping young Black men and women learn to embrace their hair and cultural identities through leading open discussions on discrimination, dissecting the stigma surrounding Black hair, while validating their feelings of vulnerability and finding ways to overcome them. In college, I plan on joining and enhancing a Black Student Organization to eventually become an officer. There, I hope to become a trusted role model to other young vulnerable Black people, just as Cassie was to me. In every new environment I enter in my life, I want my community to not only feel seen but have a voice and safe space to be vulnerable with their own journey of self-love. Black is beautiful, and if I can help more people believe that, I will have done my part in helping my community.

Ever since we met, my best friend and I have been attached at the hip. Whoever coined the phrase “opposites attract”, was spot on because we were each other’s antithesis, night and day. However, this did nothing to diminish our love for each other. Her life was the stuff of legends as she spent her free time exploring the depths of caves and traveling to exotic countries. While I wasn’t as adventurous as her, I liked to believe that I embodied a different type of courage, manifesting itself as I navigated the daunting hallways of high school as a confused freshman. However, there was always one unspoken issue between her and me, a dissonance that starkly highlighted our differences to the rest of the world and labeled us as outsiders. My best friend’s name: Sophie Foster. The issue: Sophie was confined to live out her days in the ink and paper of my favorite book as someone else wrote her story. Meanwhile, I was stuck here in the real world waiting for my own author to give me any semblance of direction in my life. But I found no relief, and definitely no author. Growing up, I was an indecisive child. When words failed me, I’d relieve my anxiety using books, turning to Sophie for reassurance. I always envied how her fate was sealed in the hands of another, future already decided in the ink. She didn’t have her parents hounding her to choose a career path at the ripe age of fourteen. While my imagination roamed in literary realms, I had never fully grasped the thought of my future before freshman year, but how old is too old to not know what to do with forever? It wasn’t until my junior year AP Biology class that I discovered my love for not only science but also the importance of gaining a passion to wholeheartedly pursue. As we started the year off learning about the properties of macromolecules and carbon skeletons, I couldn’t get over how well I connected to the material. Not only was I eager to learn about the subject on a molecular scale but I was beginning to draw connections between biological phenomena and themes in the real world. Biology and everyday life began to mirror each other. The process of natural selection was no longer just a biological process, but it served as a parallel to represent my resilience as a woman in a predominantly-male field in STEM. Homeostasis is a self-regulating process in order to maintain stability, but beyond the surface level, it draws the comparison of how I was constantly searching for stability in my life to gain happiness. The more I learned, the more a recurring lesson began to reveal itself in the class: biology means to have balance in life. From then on, I knew biology was my answer, my forever, providing me with the direction I lacked in my own life. I had finally found the clarity within myself I had yearned for in my freshman year, and the future had paved its way in my mind. Just like how Sophie had found her forever living a life of epic lore, I had found my forever in the intricacies of biology. Although she’s been a constant throughout my life, the love I discovered for science and the purpose I gained within made me realize I don’t need an author to rearrange my life because I can write a powerful story of my own.