When I first applied for the Bush Fellowship, I described myself as a seed planter and cultivator—someone who invests in ideas, people, and possibilities with the understanding that meaningful change often takes time. That metaphor still resonates deeply with me. However, through this journey, I’ve come to realize that the way I lead—how I plant, how I nourish, how I harvest—has grown in both depth and direction.

This Fellowship has been both transformative and reaffirming. It has reaffirmed the essence of who I am: someone deeply committed to cultivating change, compassion, and creativity. But it has also transformed my perspective—particularly in how I engage with myself as a leader.

One of the most unexpected and empowering parts of this experience has been my reconnection with academia. For a long time, I feared academic spaces. They often felt unwelcoming, rigid, or isolating—especially as someone with intersecting identities and lived experiences that weren’t always reflected in the curriculum or the institutions themselves. Honestly, I was scared to return after struggling in college more than 20 years ago. Back then, it felt defeating. But through this Fellowship, I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had. As I conclude my certification, much of my academic life that hasn’t left me in tears, but now it is shifting—even though the topics are still complex and emotionally demanding. I’ve grown. I’ve changed. And now, I want more. I’ve fallen in love with learning again. I love the challenge. I love the adaptation. I appreciate that I’m still resilient.

Even more surprising has been the supportive network of peers—fellow students, educators, and collaborators—who not only welcomed me but valued the knowledge I brought with me. I no longer feel like an outsider—I feel like a contributor. That sense of belonging has carried into other areas of my leadership. I’ve started to appreciate that simply by sharing my story, my path, and my growth, I am helping others—especially youth—envision a future of autonomy, empowerment, and possibility. I’ve received messages from young people who’ve told me that seeing someone like them—leading, creating, learning, and showing up—has helped them begin to reclaim their narratives and trust in their own voice. That, to me, is leadership in action.

Still, I’ve wrestled with self-doubt throughout this process. I’ve been overly critical of my accomplishments, often feeling as though I’m not doing enough. I’ve realized how much power I’ve given to outside pressures and perceptions. But when I pause and truly reflect—on the travel, the relationships I’ve built, the knowledge I’ve gained, and the growth I’ve experienced both personally and professionally—it’s undeniable that something incredible is unfolding.

Leadership, I’ve come to understand, is not just about showing up for others. It’s also about showing up for ourselves—with compassion, curiosity, and courage. I’ve spent years working behind the scenes in different spaces, often quietly, often invisibly. And now, I’m learning not to feel guilt for who I am, or how I move through the world. Having a sense of self—truly knowing and honoring myself—has been its own unexpected journey.

I have always tried to live a life rooted in gratitude. But somehow, I had overlooked being grateful for myself. Perhaps it was the fear of having a conflated ego, or perhaps it was simply the slow healing from traumas that made me believe I had to remain small. Yet at the end of the day, I was my biggest believer. That belief wasn’t born from ego—it was born from love. From resilience. From hope.

So much pressure is placed on us to succeed, to repair what we didn’t break, to remain hopeful in a world that rarely feels safe. And because of that, it’s rare to experience ourselves simply as we are—free, weightless, unburdened by expectation. But I’ve caught glimpses of that liberation through this journey. I’ve come to trust myself again—not just in what I can do, but in who I am becoming.

It’s been powerful to witness the spaces I’ve helped shape continue to grow at their own pace. Growth doesn’t always come quickly, and sometimes it doesn’t look the way we imagined—but it’s happening. And I’m learning to trust that. My role as a leader isn’t always to push—it’s often to plant, to guide, to witness, and to return when needed.

My understanding of leadership has shifted from one based on urgency and external validation to one grounded in intention, inner alignment, and relational accountability. I’ve learned to be gentler with myself. More patient. More discerning. I’ve come to understand that leadership is not about always doing more—but about doing what matters, with clarity and care.

And perhaps most importantly, I’ve learned that I am always learning. Always growing. I hope that never changes. Because the more I grow, the more I can create spaces—through art, education, and advocacy—where others can grow too.

There is still so much to ponder. If I had the financial stability to continue my education beyond this certificate, I absolutely would. But I also understand that there is uncertainty in the world, and that desire may need to wait. Still, I am deeply appreciative of the journey—the learning, the bruises, the breakthroughs, the tears, and the transformations.

I am full of gratitude.
My spirit is full of energies.
And I am still becoming.