Against the Current Scholarship

Congratulations to our Scholarship Winners!

We are honored to announce the winner of our Against the Current Scholarship! Congratulations to our winner and thank you for sharing your story with us. The legal team of jD LAW hope that our contribution to your education will help you grow into an outstanding individual.

In the past few months, we have read many stories of how everyday students fought for what they thought was right and were truly inspired by your stories. Thank you for choosing to face this challenge and apply for the Against the Current Scholarship. Make sure to follow us on Facebook and our blog to hear about other individuals who have fought for their rights and beliefs.

2021 Winning Entry

"For a second, I was convinced he would apologize, and we would all calmly resume class."

- Maëlys C., 2021 Scholarship Winner

Short Essay

"You wouldn't walk around the office with 'Jackson 5' hair, would you?"

It was a typical Tuesday morning at College Sainte-Veronique in Liege, Belgium when those words confidently left my history teacher's mouth.

My initial reaction? Pure shock.

Being one of about a dozen Black students in the class, all of whose natural hair varied in curl pattern and colour, all of whom wore their hair proudly every single day, it was safe to say I was disgusted by those words. After an exchange of offended looks, and what felt like the longest hour of tense silence, I had to say something.

"I knew I was in the right and figured that even if he still didn't think so, at least he knew that I would not back down."
- Maëlys C.

"Sir, are you implying that afros are unprofessional?"

That's when I noticed the change of expression on the teacher's face, almost like I could see the wheels turning; he realized where he misspoke. For a second, I was convinced he would apologize, and we would all calmly resume class. However, if that were the case, I would not be retelling this story now.

Instead, he started a whole tangent. He explained how he was never raised around this kind of hair, that it was almost foreign to him, and that he has never seen it in office settings. Internally, I concluded that I would just drop it. It simply wasn't worth the energy to educate a middle-aged man who had lived half a lifetime basking in ignorance without realizing it. That was until he brought up a specific classmate, who was also black, and his choice of hairstyle for the day. It just so happened that he wore his curls in two buns on the top of his head. Although the school's "strictly business-casual" dress code generally did not allow for much femininity from the guys, everyone complimented his hair-do throughout that entire morning – everyone except this teacher.

"A constant reminder, to that teacher and to myself, that the curls that naturally grow out of my head are just as professional as the next person's undulous locks or pin-straight hair."
- Maëlys C.

"Don't you think it's a bit provoking? Perhaps to your fellow classmates, or even staff?"

At this point, the abundance of irritation and confusion I felt was running through my veins like adrenaline. I simply could not understand why anyone would feel that such comments are appropriate, especially inside of a classroom. During their exchange, I silently pondered what I could do. Either I could reinsert myself in this conversation or stay quiet. Either way, I wouldn't be able to go to administrative employees like I could in the United States; microaggressions are considered a waste of time for them. In other words, report blatant racism or keep your mouth shut. Ultimately, I decided against saying nothing and voiced my thoughts to the teacher.

"Mister, do you not see what is wrong with your statement? How it could be taken as derogatory?"

The ever-so-slight traces of regret that I'd previously noticed on his face completely disappeared. Instead, I was met with anger, clearly deriving from some level of guilt. And rather than getting a thorough verbal response, see maybe an apology, I got a:

"Everyone, turn your chairs towards the screen. We are going to watch a video for the assignment."

At the time, the lack of acknowledgment on his part was more than enough for me. I knew I was in the right and figured that even if he still didn't think so, at least he knew that I would not back down. Now, being a year older, I wish I had kept the conversation going. Not for my own satisfaction, but in hopes of opening his eyes a bit. It's always ironic when those who work in fields that are as social and diverse as education aren't as educated as they ought to be. Perhaps if we had an additional exchange, even after class, he would've come around to the idea. As primitive as it may sound, I should've trusted my gut more. Had I pushed myself to talk to him one more time, I could currently be indulging in the validation and thrill of knowing that I helped someone see things from another perspective, that I flipped someone's empathy switch on.

For the rest of the year, I made an effort to wear my "Jackson 5" hair out every chance I got. Although it may be seen as a petty move, to me it was like a silent protest. A constant reminder, to that teacher and to myself, that the curls that naturally grow out of my head are just as professional as the next person's undulous locks or pin-straight hair. Though the experience was extremely frustrating to endure firsthand, I am glad I had such an encounter at such a young age. I was able to learn the power of my own voice, for others' sake and my own alike. I was able to witness a microaggression with my own two eyes, which will only prepare me for the future. But most importantly, I was able to stand up for an issue that hit extremely close to home, and only feel empowered by it.

- Maëlys C.


2021 Winning Entry

"For the first 12 years of my life, I hardly said a word."

- Caitlien L., 2021 Scholarship Winner

Short Essay

For the first 12 years of my life, I hardly said a word.

The words I did say, nobody ever understood. Whenever I spoke, I was met with blank stares and stifled laughter. I was born with a severe speech impediment, ironically called a lisp. Throughout school and sports, I was made fun of and ridiculed. Naturally, after everyone only heard nonsensical words out of my mouth, I tended to keep quiet. I constantly sat in the back of classrooms, kept my head down, and just tried to blend into the sea of students.

"After growing up quiet and alone, I did not have the courage to stand up for him."
- Caitlien L.

It took a decade of speech therapy before I could finally pronounce words properly. However, my voice still quivered when I spoke, and my eyes would dart to anywhere but the eyes of my peers.

In high school, I was finally ready to be a different person. In cross country, I met a boy named Andrew who had the same lisp I did. Behind his back, other team members and people I called “friends” would mock him and make fun of the way he spoke. Even to his face they would as well. It was a small issue, and to them, probably seen as harmless jokes.

After growing up quiet and alone, I did not have the courage to stand up for him. For a while, I pretended it did not bother me and went on with my life.

"However, it was just one steppingstone in the fight against issues and injustices that often go ignored."
- Caitlien L.

Yet I could not hide the growing ache with each “joke” they made. I thought I had finally found my voice when I fixed my speech impediment, however, I realized I still was not speaking. I was faking smiles and conversations, but it was no better than the nonsensical words I could only say before.

And so, I took a stance. The “harmless jokes” and snide remarks were hurtful. They were not just things you brush off, nor were they laughing with him. In the face of so many injustices in the world, the stance I took that day seems meaningless. However, it was just one steppingstone in the fight against issues and injustices that often go ignored.

I learned that day how to speak.

And I vowed to continue using my voice, and I will continue to stand up for what I believe in and what is right, no matter how small.

- Caitlien L.


2020 Winning Entry

"I have always firmly believed that everyone deserves a right to a solid and functional education, even people who have broken the law or are incarcerated."

- Michelle F., 2020 Scholarship Winner

Introduction

In this world, there are a plethora of worthy causes to fight for. People advocate for everything from climate change and renewable energy legislation to increased funding for cancer research; however, there are some causes that tend to go unnoticed or go ignored that have a blatant impact on society. One of these issues is particularly controversial, and many people do not know about it: educational access, especially educational access for incarcerated people or those at a high risk of being incarcerated.

"I had to stay motivated to prove to society that these are not just criminals; they are people who are capable of great things with education and some support."
- Michelle F.

I have always firmly believed that everyone deserves a right to a solid and functional education, even people who have broken the law or are incarcerated. I have seen first-hand the cycle of recidivism in my own family, as well as how a lack of education can lead to a life of crime. This issue concerned me, but it was not until I heard the story and met James Harvey Elliot, a community college student in Delaware when I realized there was something that could be done about this and that I should become more educated.

James was no ordinary community college student. He received his two-year degree shortly after being released from a seven-year prison sentence. He avoided the cycle of recidivism by becoming educated. He became such an advocate for prison education that he earned the prestigious All-USA scholarship for his work of passing legislation supporting prison education in Delaware. His speech about combating recidivism via education inspired me and thoroughly motivated me to become part of the change. I wanted to advocate for prison education programs and perhaps most importantly, create a program to help support incarcerated students pursuing college degrees in my own state at the community college level.

"This campaign was so successful that we by raised enough to support forty incarcerated individuals—far more than our original goal."
- Michelle F.

After hearing James speak, I got down to work. I first did research and found out the lack of educational access in incarcerated communities, as well as communities of people who are at risk for incarceration, was much larger than I thought. The average black man without a high school diploma has a higher chance of being incarcerated than finding a job. Even more shocking; nearly two-thirds of all prisoners in the United States are functionally illiterate. Additionally, once released, after five years, the average prisoner has nearly a 75 percent chance of becoming re-incarcerated, with some populations at higher rates than that. When prisoners receive education, even as little as vocational training, these rates can be cut in half, or even cut from 75 percent to five percent if they earn a bachelor’s degree while incarcerated or after being released.

This lack of educational access is plaguing society in various ways; yet, very few people I spoke with even knew it was an issue. Even worse, most people I encountered believed that this was not an important issue and that I should “waste my energy” somewhere else. Others were vehemently against this saying things similarly to “Prisoners don’t deserve support with MY tax dollars,” “oh well, they chose to break the law, so it is their fault and they don’t deserve an education,” or something along the lines of, “they deserve to rot in jail.”

As I was working with a team of students from other community colleges to do the statewide fundraiser to get this program off the ground, I began to get a bit discouraged and anxious. I knew the incarcerated population was deeply stigmatized, but even people who said they believed that all people should have a right to education could not see past what prisoners have done and believed they were undeserving. To them, these people, no matter how insignificant the crime they committed, were not human. I had to stay motivated to prove to society that these are not just criminals; they are people who are capable of great things with education and some support.

Despite the adversity I faced, I have absolutely no regrets about my decision to advocate for education for incarcerated people. If anything, my fight has made me more passionate about this topic and I will continue to advocate for better prison education, for the creation of prison education programs, and support the Second Chance Pell Program. My persistence was rewarded. My team and I successfully created a statewide fundraiser through the community colleges of New York State to support individuals at Marcy State Correctional Facility who are pursuing Associate Degrees. When we started last year, we intended to raise enough funding to aid nine people.

This campaign was so successful that we by raised enough to support forty incarcerated individuals—far more than our original goal. This fund will be undoubtedly life-changing to incarcerated people. Without education, statistics show that 30 out of 40 of these individuals will likely become re-incarcerated within five years of release. With the Associate Degree these 40 individuals will receive, only about six of the forty are statistically likely to return to prison. This program not only supports incarcerated individuals in their pursuits of an Associate Degree, but it gives them hope for a better life outside of prison. The students also have access to a greater network, a support system of individuals who see them as people beyond the crimes they have committed, access to better jobs, and even the ability to pursue higher degrees if they choose to do so.

Although this project will only immediately affect 40 individuals, it potentially will affect hundreds, if not thousands of others as this program is beneficial to the community. This program can keep the streets safer, save taxpayers money in incarceration costs, and give the families of the individuals a chance at a better life outside of the cycle. My larger hope is that someday society can see incarcerated people as real people—not just criminals. People who have ambitions, families, and personalities outside what was perhaps a one-time mistake. People who have the right to something that many people take for granted—a functional education.

- Michelle F.