April 3, 2021, at 6:00 a.m. The sky was cloudy but colorful, a summertime sunset, with pink, orange, and hints of purple and blue. My shoes were off and even in my subconscious, I could feel the plushness of the grass beneath me. There were sidewalks, buildings, and a lot of people. I laughed and smiled, exclaiming, “I made it to the Mecca!” The Mecca? Then, a group of students walked past me wearing sweatshirts in crimson red that read, “Not A Coincidence: Howard University.” The Mecca is…Howard University. I awoke in amazement. As soon as I opened my eyes, I closed them again, saying a prayer that I would not forget it. January 28th, 2022 at 8:00 p.m. 301 days later. “Dear Jabrielle Shalem, You’ve done it! Congratulations, we are pleased to offer you admission to Howard University. You have been admitted…” I could hardly finish reading the words from my decision before tears welled up in my eyes. I cried continuously, mostly from joy but there was another underlying emotion that I could not identify. I pushed the feeling away and promised myself that I would not stop until the final hour until I got where I was meant to go. June 30th, 2022 at 2:41 p.m. 154 days later. “I am honored and delighted to have received an acceptance from your university in the Art-Fashion Design concentration. With Howard being my number one choice, I have anticipated my attendance with much excitement. As the year has progressed, unforeseen financial circumstances…”, my deferral letter read. Deep down, I knew from the moment I got in that this moment would come. Much more than financial circumstances had occurred in my life at that point. I had spent the latter half of my senior year living all over the city due to a toxic and dangerous home situation. Once I returned home, not only had my father been out of work for months but he constantly reminded me of his deep disdain for my school of choice so he was in no position to support me. My mother began working a part-time job to support the family but she was in a conflicting position and could not support me either. August 12, 2022, at noon 44 days later. I met on Zoom with my advisor at Howard to discuss options for me. Even though I had already requested a deferral, she wanted me to attend this year, in person. I started feeling hopeful too, thinking, “Maybe this will turn around.” August 17, 2022, at 11:00 a.m. 5 days later. My grandmother woke up, an hour later she was unresponsive, and 30 minutes later she was gone. Everything reset for me at that point. My mindset, my priorities, my desires. September 4, 2022, at 6:00 p.m. 19 days later. I had worked tirelessly, trying to acquire the funds necessary through scholarships, get last-minute housing, and finalize travel plans. But on this day, everything fell through. My advisor could no longer assist me, my decision to go to school divided my family, and the one scholarship I had received would not cover the cost. August 21, 2023, at 10:00 a.m. I sat down in what would become my assigned seat in the fashion design department of Howard University. “Welcome to Introduction to the Fashion Industry, my name is Professor…” Finally, it all made sense, everything that I worked for the past two years. What I realized, was that getting to Howard wasn’t the reward. That experience served as a catalyst for my change but the reward was the fruition of my hard work. It was doing what I told myself I would, and trusting God to do the rest. It was making peace with the present moment, knowing that my future was already written. To overcome means you have reached the end of a thing. I am overcoming. If I were blessed to win the WCEJ Low-Income Scholarship, I would be more than honored. It would aid me tremendously in paying my college tuition, due to the fact that I am an independent student and pay out of pocket. It would support my dreams of becoming a creative director in the fashion industry and creating my own sustainable clothing brand. It would place me a step closer to completing my own college journey and having the resources to support the next generation of independent artists of color through theirs.

My artistic approach is “If it hasn’t been done yet, then I’m doing it.”As a creative, I relentlessly pursue knowledge. I am invested and eager to use my talents within every creative discipline. As a Black woman, I am indebted to support my community and other communities of color by creating resources. My focus is on expanding my horizons and stepping out of my comfort zone to become a multidisciplinary professional. Leading me to a career that encompasses my passions for creative direction in both fashion and music, alongside my commitment to sustainability, social impact, and community engagement. I will create a sustainable fashion brand that not only creates clothes but also conducts research and studies dedicated to finding ways to improve sustainability. I plan to establish a career in fashion and then transition to other industries such as music and film. There are so many opportunities for black women in fashion and it is still an underrepresented environment for us. What motivates me is the drive and desire to be the precedent. No one in my family studied art, or fashion, went to school out of state, or paid for their education on their own. It is a privilege to me therefore my goal is to achieve success, not for myself but to pay it all forward and give back. It is a dream of mine to create a scholarship and mentorship program for underprivileged artists and creatives whose journeys have been like my own. My main motivation is to ensure that my successors have more than enough access, resources, and information to have even greater success than they could imagine. I want to contribute to this new way of looking at life through the lens of art; through fashion, film, music, and production. Art is not just something we consume, it is who we are, it is what we see, it is what’s around us, it is what we feel, it’s what we think, it’s what we share, that’s what I want my work to express. Ultimately, my intention is, and always will be, to create opportunities and provide exposure to those who represent who I am and who I have been. I want to erase the stigmas that come with choosing creativity and make a meaningful lasting impact on the people around me. That motivates me and makes me most eager to embark on this journey.

As a creative, I relentlessly pursue knowledge. I am continually seeking out opportunities to expand my skill set and deepen my understanding of different creative disciplines. As a student, I have a dedication to continuous improvement and a commitment to excellence. I am just as invested in community engagement, eager to use my talents to make an established impact on the world around me. As a Black woman, I am indebted to support my community and other communities of color by creating resources. For my short-term goals, my primary focus is on expanding my horizons and stepping out of my comfort zone to become a multidisciplinary professional. I am committed to broadening my skill set, gaining hands-on experience, and actively pursuing professional development opportunities that will enhance my expertise and effectiveness in diverse areas. My long-term career goals encompass a multifaceted career path that combines my passions for creative direction in both fashion and music, alongside a commitment to sustainability, social impact, and community engagement. I aim to establish myself as a prominent creative director within the fashion industry. I want to create my own sustainable fashion brand that not only creates clothes but conducts research and studies dedicated to finding ways to improve sustainability. I plan to establish a career in fashion then transition to other industries such as music and film. There are so many opportunities for black women in fashion and it is still an underrepresented environment for us, in design, styling, marketing, PR, business, and tech. We need black women at the head of the table, creating the designs, choosing the clothes we put on our bodies, and creating sustainable energy through clothing. What motivates me is the drive and desire to be the precedent. No one in my family studied art, or fashion, went to school out of state, or paid for their education on their own. It is a privilege and a burden to me therefore my goal is to achieve success, not for myself but to pay it all forward and give back. It is a dream of mine to create a scholarship and mentorship program for underprivileged artists and creatives whose journeys have been like my own. My main motivation is ensuring that the people behind me have more than enough access, resources, and information to have even greater success than they could imagine. When I was first starting, I had endured many things and I experienced a lot of mental blockage, not being able to express myself artistically in the way that I longed to. I want to contribute to this new way of looking at life through the lens of art; through fashion, film, music, and production. Art is not just something we consume, it is who we are. It is our being, it is what we see, it is what’s around us, it is what we feel, it’s what we think, it’s what we share, it is what we feel, that’s what I want my work to express. Ultimately, my intention is, and always will be, to create opportunities and provide exposure to those who represent who I am and who I have been. I want to erase the stigmas that come with choosing creativity and make a meaningful lasting impact on the people around me. That is what motivates me and makes me most eager to embark on this journey.

It wouldn’t go away. All I could see was black but I heard light. I could hear the sounds that accompany light; birds chirping and fluttering, cars whooshing past, leaves dancing only slightly to the wind’s song. I’m…awake? Just then, early morning sun rays shone so clearly and brightly through the windows and started to permeate my all black vision. I’m awake. Again. I thought that it was normal to fantasize about going to sleep and not waking up. To wake up and fantasize about sinking into the bed and never coming out. This feeling wouldn’t go away. As a child, I was always the picture of perfection. Seen, not heard. Somewhere hidden, reading a book, daydreaming about living a life with no issues. In addition, I was also an extremely religious child. My parents were fire without the brimstone Christians. We were discouraged from crying, complaining, and showing any signs of unhappiness or discouragement. If we did, we were quickly scolded on why showing that type of emotion was disagreeable. To avoid this pressure, if I cried it would often be masked as happy tears or remorse for disobedience. I was on track to be the perfect daughter, perfect sister, and perfect child of God. Until the tears got harder to hide. I would cry in the shed, the yard, the bathroom, under my covers when everyone was sleeping. Every time I cried, it felt like I was letting out years of pain. My chest felt as though it would expand enough to swallow me into it. This emotion? Phase? Reaction? I wasn’t sure what to call it, went strong all throughout my freshman year of high school, until a conversation I had with a friend one day. I explained to her in depth how I didn’t feel that I had any purpose, how no matter what I did, it didn’t feel like enough, and how I felt out of place in my life and family. She listened carefully yet her response was quite matter of fact when she said, “You sound depressed.” I quickly brushed it off, since “God’s people don’t get depressed.” But her words rang in my mind and quite literally kept me up at night, as I searched up test after test and symptom after symptom. I thought that this new word would change me somehow, imprison me even but little did I know, it was only the beginning of my freedom. Yet, it wouldn’t go away. Three years later, I thought self-diagnoses and journaling would send my depression into non-existence but it only invited its friends, anxiety and an eating disorder, to follow me around. I believed that the freedom that came from the awareness of my struggles would “fix” me somehow and all would be resolved. It didn’t help that I decided to keep my struggles to myself. Talking to family was like talking to myself, therapy wasn’t an option because I wasn’t gonna pay to tell somebody all my business, and talking to God felt like I was putting on a mask, trying to hide parts of me that He could clearly see. Finally, after I had been going through the motions for so long, it all came to a head my senior year of high school, when I kept myself closed in a room so that I wouldn’t go in the kitchen to get a knife and take my own life. I knew that I did not truly want to die but I felt it was the only way to have peace. If my mental health struggles wouldn’t die, then I would. This is the mindset that is so harmful in our society today, we are made to choose between our mental health and our lives, our internal and our external. All people, especially people of color, have to choose between being labeled weak for speaking up for ourselves and being labeled strong for staying silent until we break. The real strength lies in knowing that we can and we will speak up. I had to start having these conversations with myself first, internally. Then I had to be brave having these conversations with the people around me. I realized that not knowing how to regulate my mental health and keeping it a secret gave others the ability to constantly dictate to me how I should feel, to label me, and to write me off. I thought that I had to be a label to exist; that I because I had depression and anxiety, I was depression and anxiety. I would never be interacted with authentically if I could not learn to speak for myself, to listen to myself, to love myself. Then, it opened the doors for others to know and love me properly. I used to believe that the world only wanted a version of me that was whole, that there was no room for my mental health in school, at work, in my home. But I have learned that it makes me all the more complete to be honest about my pain rather than try to hide it. It makes me human and the world needs more people willing to be just that. It wouldn’t go away, and that’s okay.

To me, joy means peace. Usually where joy is, peace is following close behind. Before, I didn’t understand the difference between happiness and joy and I would always wonder what was wrong with me. But now, I’ve learned that happiness is an emotion and it can be very circumstantial, which is accompanied by the fear that at any moment, it could all go away. Joy, on the other hand, is more of a state of mind and a way of life. Joy is accompanied by peace because it lives within, it is not as affected by external circumstances. I seek out joy by finding ways to feed it internally. I spend a lot of time by myself, learning myself more. Trying to keep outside issues from tainting my inner joy. The main way that I maintain joy is by going outside and just looking up into the sky. The vastness reminds me that there is so much more to life than the ups and downs I face. It helps me to remember that everything does not lie on my shoulders. Knowing that helps me have all the joy in the world.

I’m a natural lover. I almost feel that I was made to love because it feels so instinctive to me. I always want others to feel and experience that too so I use what I love to make others feel loved. For example, I love to write and I always have, so two summers ago I wrote letters to all of my friends. I told them how I felt about them and encouraged them in ways that they were hurting or affected at the time. I also love music, so I make playlists inspired by or for my loved ones and friends. As I’m writing this, I’m realizing that I love others how I want to be loved. Even though I struggle with affection at times, I hug and kiss my family a lot. If someone I love is hurting, I hold them in an embrace so they can feel like I’m sharing the burden with them. I listen in conversations to remember what they want or need. My hope and desire is to make sure that if they ever felt alone, they can remember the time when I sat with them and if they ever feel unloved, they can remember the times when they felt my love for them.

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of what I want my legacy to be is that I gave everything I had to help others have a better life. I want the hungry to be fed, the unloved to be loved, the cold to be warm. I want to be remembered as a person who did that for others and who inspired others to do the same. I think about my legacy a lot, especially now, because with the state of the world we need people who still care about it. I am a young woman and a minority in this society. It’s already a struggle to make something of yourself in today’s world but it is especially difficult for those groups of people. That is my inspiration, that is why I push myself daily, to open up doors for the ones coming behind me and to somehow make it easier for them to exist. So that they can not only have even bigger dreams than myself but make it happen.

The artist and Harlem Renaissance painter Aaron Douglas created a piece called Study for A Mural that I recently discovered that is not only thought provoking but inspiring as well. Though I’m not sure if it was intentional, this piece by Mr. Douglas seems to coincide with the Biblical depiction of Jesus’ return, which is also supposed to be a time for Jesus to retrieve His followers from a dark world and take them to eternity. Because of its similarities to that concept, this piece gives me an overwhelming sense of peace in the myriad of changes in my life lately. I’m preparing for a transition in my life, from a high school student to a cool student. From a child to an adult. This piece inspires me because to me, it represents a place beyond all of the pressure, expectations, stress that I am currently experiencing. It represents a higher place and a safe haven. It inspires me to keep going but also to be still and experience heaven on earth, from within.

The most inspiring book that I have read was The Autobiography of Malcolm X told to Alex Haley by Malcolm X. Malcolm X was a minister, activist, and leader of the Nation of Islam of the 1960s. I decided to read this book because I had only ever watched the film Malcolm X by Spike Lee. I wanted to read about the human side of this monumental and controversial man. As I read, I was blown away by the confidence of this man, who was targeted by the same people that he built up. By the humility that it took to deepen his understanding of religion and what it means to be truly unified. Even to overcome his misconceptions and fears to find love. As I stated before, I began reading this book to learn about him but as I read, I began learning about myself too. I related to his childhood, growing up in the midst of several siblings and his desire, like mine, to break the mold. I began seeing a different perspective to my own religion when he was talking about his connection to the Nation of Islam. I was touched by how he took down his walls one by one when falling for his wife and it showed me how in my own relationships, it’s not really a loss when you’re losing layers for love. No matter what happened in Malcolm's life, it was never counted as loss, just a stepping stone in the journey. As someone who is really hard on myself, this is an important lesson for me to learn because if something wasn’t perfect, I used to look at it as a failure but not anymore. Perfection is a fantasy, but growth is an authentic reality,