Storytelling is central to advocacy at Young Invincibles. New York Young Advocates share their stories on issues like mental health, basic needs, and college accessibility.
Check them out below:
Prompt: Do you have a story on mental health? How has access to mental services affected your life?
Starving for Education: Food Insecurities Effect on Student Life
According to the Department of Education’s National Postsecondary Student Aid, 3.8 million college students experienced food insecurity in 2020. I never imagined I would become part of that statistic during my freshman year of college.
Here I was, away from home and the support systems I had grown up with, navigating adulthood for the first time. Freshman year was a rude awakening. I couldn’t work due to my demanding course load, so I relied on my parents for financial support. While their help covered housing and tuition, it often didn’t stretch far enough to cover groceries or healthy, nutritious food. There were months when I survived on just $40 for groceries or days when I went hungry after being on campus for hours.
Coming home to an empty fridge and pantry after a long day was disheartening. The lack of proper nutrition began to take its toll. I struggled to maintain my energy and motivation, which affected my ability to keep up with classes, extracurricular activities, and the GPA required to stay in my school’s honors program. My mental and physical health declined rapidly, and my relationships with others began to suffer as well.
When I learned about on-campus resources like food banks and cafeteria food vouchers, I was hopeful. But that hope quickly faded. The food bank staff created an unwelcoming environment, I didn’t qualify for cafeteria vouchers, and the waitlist to see a mental health specialist stretched for weeks. Feeling defeated, I turned to friends and family for support. Their help, combined with taking on two part-time jobs, brought some relief. Even now, though, the anxieties of food insecurity linger, along with concerns about its long-term effects on my health.
Food insecurity disproportionately affects students from minority backgrounds. At CUNY, 94% of students are low-income, and the majority of those students are people of color, according to HealthyCUNY. While the university offers resources like food pantries and assistance with applying for SNAP benefits, many students remain unaware of these programs, or their experiences—like mine—are marked by barriers such as poor staff interactions or inconvenient hours. Between 2022 and 2023, only 7.2% of students used on-campus resources to address food insecurity.
My experience has turned me into an advocate for students facing food insecurity. To help students thrive in college and beyond, institutions must create effective programs tailored to their unique challenges. These programs should offer flexible schedules, supportive environments, and proactive outreach to ensure students know about available resources. Colleges should also provide accessible financial assistance, like micro-grants, to help students afford groceries.
Food insecurity is not just an individual problem; it’s a systemic issue that affects millions of students nationwide. By addressing it, we can ensure that no student has to face hunger as they work toward their future.
Olami Ayebusiwa, NY
My Life in the Upside Down
Have you ever had to bear more than you thought possible?
I have.
I’m a 31-year-old New Yorker attending City College. For as long as I can remember, I’ve lived with depression and anxiety. Getting through each day with these challenges has been an immense struggle. Some days are wonderful, and I feel as happy and healthy as I can be. On other days, it feels like everything is falling apart. I wish I could say there are more good days, but often, that’s not the case. It takes every ounce of my strength to stay grounded.
Throughout my academic journey, I’ve sought help. Thankfully, I’ve had access to mental health services through The City University of New York (CUNY). During some of the most critical times in my academic and personal life, a member of the mental health team was there to guide me, reminding me that I was enough. This powerful message is something every student facing mental health challenges deserves to hear—but due to limited funding, many may not.
CUNY currently faces one of the worst therapist-to-student ratios in the country. As a result, many students struggle with limited or no support, and some even succumb to life’s pressures. We must demand that our local and state government officials increase mental health services on campuses across New York State. We also need to call on our chancellor and board of trustees to take action. Mental health is arguably the most important aspect of our well-being, and we can advocate for better support—not just for ourselves but for everyone around us.
We all know someone navigating their own “upside down” who needs help finding a way out. We each have the power to help make that happen—all it takes is reminding those in office that nobody deserves to live in that upside down.
Stephane Duviella, NY
Prompt: It’s not enough just to get your foot in the door: for students who work, have children, experience food or housing insecurity, or lack mental health support, these obstacles can be the difference between completing your degree and getting stuck. What are your experiences with lacking basic needs?
Does This Sound Like You Too?
When my family immigrated to America, we were promised a land of opportunities and support. Instead, I watched my father’s hands grow calloused from working two jobs, still unable to afford lunch for seven children. Summers were especially hard, with long, warm days bringing a familiar dread of hunger. By the time I reached college, I took on any job I could find—tutoring, internships, whatever was available—determined to help support my family. Yet, unlike in high school, colleges offered no meal programs, and MetroCards weren’t provided for low-income students, making the struggle even harder.
The challenges of poverty were closely woven with other struggles I faced. While juggling two jobs and five classes, I was also managing diagnosed anxiety. Some nights, hunger felt as heavy as the pencil in my hand. Programs like SEEK weren’t available at Hunter College, and it wasn’t until later that the food pantry became accessible. But my story isn’t unique. Many students in New York face similar hardships, balancing food insecurity with academic and personal responsibilities. In 2022, 40 percent of CUNY students reported experiencing food insecurity.
Addressing these issues at the college level can provide students the support they need to complete their degrees. Programs like food pantries and emergency funds are crucial for ensuring that students’ basic needs are met, allowing them to focus on their education instead of mere survival.
Sara Ayoub, NY
Basic Needs are Human Needs
I have been in and out of college since high school, class of ’16, pursuing my bachelor’s degree. Along the way, I’ve earned an associate’s degree a community health worker certificate and completed additional coursework toward my undergraduate education. This journey has been anything but linear, yet it has taught me much about myself as a student and what I need to sustain and contribute to the collective.
Whether attending community college, commuting to a four-year university, or living on campus full-time, I have found a consistent thread of needs demanded by these varied experiences. Simply put, I needed food to eat, a place to sleep, and someone to talk to when the road got rocky.
Today, the student body in higher education represents a spectrum of experiences. Students range from first-time learners (ages 18–22) to young adults (22–34) and beyond. A poignant example of this diversity can be seen at SUNY Purchase College, which recently partnered with Broadview, a senior living community. This collaboration facilitates intragenerational learning by creating shared spaces for adults aged 62 and older alongside traditional students.
Having engaged in similar intragenerational learning environments throughout my undergraduate journey, I’ve noticed a shared truth: regardless of lived experiences, all students fundamentally need the same things. We need food to fuel our bodies and minds so we can actively engage in learning. We need safe and adequate housing to rest, reflect, and prepare for the challenges ahead. We need external support and guidance to navigate the often difficult terrain of balancing education with the demands of life.
The simple act of living is already a significant burden, yet many of us choose to become students as a way to enrich ourselves and our communities. For some, this is a short chapter in their lives; for others, it is an ongoing pursuit taken up when circumstances allow. Personally, I credit my ability to persist in academia to the network of support that has held me up along the way.
My motto has become “slowly but surely,” but I recognize that not everyone has the luxury of time. I live with ADHD, a diagnosis I received later in life at the age of 24, which profoundly shapes how I approach schooling. Many of my peers live with other disabilities that similarly affect their educational journeys, yet we persist. Beyond academic institutions, life demands constant learning, unlearning, and relearning.
It is in society’s best interest to make space for everyone to contribute in a dignified and fulfilling way. To do this, we must ensure that students—of all ages, backgrounds, and abilities—have access to the fundamental resources they need to succeed.
At the very least, students like me need food to eat, a safe and adequate home to rest, and the support to keep going when the path ahead becomes difficult.
Solène Joseph, NY
Prompt: Many students take dual-enrollment classes, which can decrease the amount of time it takes to gain a college degree. Do you have a story that describes the benefits of taking classes that counted for both high school and college? Did you face any inequities in accessing dual enrollment courses?
You May Regret It
I remember receiving an email from my high school about a BMCC program that offered high school students critical thinking and speech courses. The email mentioned that these courses would count for college credit. At first, I ignored it. I thought, What’s the point of taking these classes now? I can just take them when I’m in college. Let me relax while I still can.
Later that day, my friend Ishika approached me and encouraged me to apply for the program. I brushed her off, saying, “No, I’ll just take them when I actually start college.” But Ishika was persistent. “Come on,” she said, “this will count as college credit. I don’t want to take it alone, and the classes will be held right here at school. We don’t even have to go to BMCC!” She kept calling and texting me about it, so I got annoyed. I told her, “If you want to take it, go ahead, but stop bothering me about it!”
A few days later, my guidance counselor called me in and encouraged me to take the critical thinking course, at least. In my mind, I wondered if Ishika had put her up to this. After a lot of pressure from both my friend and my counselor, I finally agreed. The class was held every Wednesday after school at 3:30 p.m., and I wasn’t thrilled about it. I wanted to go home and take a nap instead. Three weeks in, I told my guidance counselor I wanted to drop the course. Ironically, Ishika—the one who had convinced me to join—was the first to consider quitting.
When I explained my reasons for wanting to drop the class (mainly that it cut into my nap time), my guidance counselor just laughed and rolled her eyes. She said, “Afifa, listen. Right now, you have time to take naps, but when you actually start college, you’ll be juggling more classes, possibly working, and dealing with the cost of tuition. Life will only get harder. That’s why I’m encouraging you to stick with this. Trust me—you’ll thank me later.”
Her words stuck with me, so I decided to continue. Ishika and I both finished the class, and I’m glad we did. The professor for critical thinking was amazing—he was patient and detailed, and he taught us how to give strong presentations. I ended up earning a B+, which was better than I expected. My guidance counselor later told me she was proud of me for completing the course, and I was proud of myself, too.
The best part? The credit from my critical thinking class transferred to my current college, City Tech. While working on an assignment in my first year of college, I thought back to that course. I regretted not taking more dual-enrollment classes when I had the chance. BMCC had also offered speech, statistics, and computer science, and if I’d taken those classes, I could have saved even more time and effort now.
Looking back, I feel so fortunate to have had a supportive guidance counselor who pushed me to take that first step. Taking dual-enrollment classes was one of the best decisions I made in high school. For any high school student considering it, I highly encourage you to take advantage of this opportunity. It’s a great way to get a feel for college-level courses, understand the grading system, and even save money since these courses are often free. If the credits transfer, you might even graduate college early. I wish I had taken more classes when I had the chance—but at least I learned an important lesson that I’ll always carry with me.
Afifa Sultana, NY
Bridging the Gap: The Dual Enrollment Dilemma
Ah, the glamorization of attending specialized high schools—where it’s assumed that every student is handed a golden ticket to opportunities like AP and dual-enrollment classes. But who knew that navigating this maze of so-called “opportunities” would involve more blind alleys than open doors?
Growing up in East New York, I was fortunate to attend Brooklyn Technical High School, a specialized high school in Downtown Brooklyn. With its programs and majors designed to prepare students for college, many assume that accessing opportunities like dual-enrollment courses would be seamless. These courses allow students to earn college credits while still in high school, potentially saving time and money in their college journey. However, my experience told a different story.
As I approached my senior year, I actively sought out programs that would allow me to take college courses. Through my own research, I discovered College Now, a CUNY initiative that provides high school students with access to college courses, often free of charge. Programs like this can help reduce the financial burden of college tuition later on. But when I brought this opportunity to my school counselors, I was met with a surprising lack of guidance.
Many students around me—particularly those with average or below-average academic performance—were unaware of dual-enrollment programs. Meanwhile, students with exceptional grades seemed to have greater access to these opportunities. The school’s favoritism, coupled with limited communication about such programs, left many of us to fend for ourselves.
What struck me even more was the disparity between specialized high schools and regular high schools, especially in low-income neighborhoods with predominantly Black and Brown students. While I had to fight for the chance to participate in dual enrollment, many of my peers at other schools were completely unaware of these opportunities. The stark contrast was a reflection of systemic inequities tied to school funding and resources.
After enrolling at a private university, I learned another harsh lesson. My college advisor informed me that as a premedical student, it was recommended not to transfer credits from dual enrollment or AP courses taken in high school. This meant retaking many of the same classes, effectively doubling my workload and financial investment. Despite earning enough credits to graduate in under three years, I ended up taking a gap year to save for future courses, delaying my graduation.
This experience gave me a deeper understanding of the challenges faced by students who don’t have access to these opportunities at all. For students in low-income, predominantly Black and Brown neighborhoods, financial constraints often make college unattainable. Dual enrollment courses and AP classes could alleviate some of these challenges, but their absence in underfunded schools only reinforces cycles of inequity.
Education should serve as a bridge, not a barrier. Every student deserves equitable access to resources like dual enrollment, regardless of their academic performance or the zip code they live in. Transparency in educational resources is crucial—it empowers students to take advantage of opportunities that can pave the way to a brighter future. No student should feel that their worth is defined by their school’s resources or their neighborhood’s demographics.
Sabrina Sarwar, NY
The Power of Dual Enrollment: A Path to College Success
Dual enrollment was a game-changer for me in high school. Taking college-level courses prepared me for the demands of college and earned me credits, giving me a significant advantage and the confidence to start college strong. Unfortunately, not every student has access to dual enrollment, and this inequity is a problem.
I firmly believe all high school students should have the opportunity to participate in dual enrollment. It’s crucial for bridging the gap between high school and college. Without it, many students, especially those from underserved communities, face academic challenges that can lead to higher dropout rates and greater student debt. Expanding access to dual enrollment could be a powerful solution as concerns about college readiness and student debt grow.
Denying students this opportunity creates an unfair academic divide—those with access to dual enrollment are better prepared, while those without often struggle to keep up. This is why we need to act. I urge educators and policymakers to invest in making dual enrollment accessible to all students. It’s time to level the playing field and give every student a chance at college success.
Savannah Autobee, NY