Fall 2025 Winner of the Supporting Prisoners’ Families Scholarship

Ashlyn Nguyen Hoang

Growing up with a parent in prison has taught Ashlyn the power of perseverance. Even during her darkest moments, Ashlyn remained focused on her education. Congratulations, Ashlyn, we truly admire your resilience and hard work!

Read her essay

All I really wore was grey. My friends told me that wearing it made me look like a patient who escaped from a mental asylum. It goes off as a joke, but I thought maybe I am?

Maybe it was the red from my mom’s blood that woke me up in the middle of the night.

Maybe it’s the blue from the cop’s sirens that still echoes in my brain.

Or was it the yellow sunshine from that last morning at home, talking with my dad for the final time.

Maybe the fact that my dad is in prison and my mom is paralyzed because her skull shattered was my last straw, and I just don’t know what kept me from ending up in a mental asylum.

I have lived all my life hearing people criticize my parents. One night, a fourteen year old me woke up to screams in the middle of the night, kneeling in my mom’s blood, begging her to wake up. The next thing I knew, my dad’s face was all over the newspapers and social media. It’s hard for a barely fourteen year old to comprehend what had just happened.

Three hours earlier, all I could think about was my future.

Three hours later, all I could think about was how to live without my family.

It hurts when I see my dad, my used to be heroes-so tired and broken in his mugshot. It hurts seeing my mom fight for ten percent chance of survival in the Emergency Room. It’s devastating seeing people insulting my mom, calling my dad a monster.

I remembered the birds that used to make their nest in my backyard. They were a big, happy family, until a wild cat came and killed one of the parents, leaving the other to suffer and abandon the nest.

That nest died by the time I came back from summer break.

I should’ve known God was giving me a metaphor. Never knew it was so ruthless.

I don’t know how I overcame that.

Maybe I never did, that's why I’m crying writing this. I knew I hadn’t truly healed when people told me I looked like someone who grew up without a male figure. I had brought those festering wounds with me all these years.

Still, I tried my best to do well in school, even when I didn’t know what the future held.

My dad will never be here to see that future anyway.

But getting accepted into UT changed my life, in a salvaging way.

I want to be a surgeon. A forensic pathologist.

I want to find out the cause of death and bring justice to those lost to homicide. The dead can’t speak, who will uncover the truth, who will be their voice when their heart has stopped beating?

I grew up with immigrant parents, knowing what they sacrificed for me. I have my small siblings look up to me, my mom’s told me to follow my dream. That was the first time I was brave enough to step out of my world.

I attended school with the help of financial aid and scholarships, but never enough to fully cover tuition.

And I’ll be honest, I'm jealous of my friends. Jealous that they have parents who celebrate their birthdays, worry about their schoolwork, or come visit them.

But I know life isn’t just about the past.

I applied for this scholarship because I see how much my life could change with it. I see myself affording housing, tuition, school supplies, and food. I see myself able to pay for transportation. I see this scholarship can help me lift off my financial burden, and focus more on my goal of becoming a physician.

I’ve missed out on so many opportunities in life. I can’t blame anyone but myself. But I will always ask for an opportunity, a chance,

Because if I never try, I’ll never know.