From Cents to Confidence: Why Financial Literacy Is More Than a Piggy Bank

By Jaade Gillespie

One of the most common things I hear from my students is, “I’m just not good with money.”

And every time I hear that, I pause. Because most of the time, it has nothing to do with ability. It has everything to do with confidence.

I understand that feeling more than people might expect.

I didn’t grow up without conversations about money, but I didn’t always feel confident making financial decisions on my own. I knew it was important. I knew it mattered. But when it came to actually applying it in my own life, I often found myself second guessing.

I remember moments as simple as sitting there before making a purchase or decision, going back and forth in my head, wondering if I was doing the “smart” thing. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared so much about getting it right that I wasn’t always sure I trusted myself to.

It was not a lack of exposure. It was a lack of confidence.

And once I recognized that, everything started to shift.

As I began learning more and actually applying it, things became clearer. Not overnight, but gradually. What once felt overwhelming started to feel manageable. What once felt intimidating started to feel empowering.

And more importantly, I started to trust myself.

Through my work with students, I’ve realized just how common that feeling is. So many young people think they are behind.

They hesitate to ask questions. They assume everyone else understands something that they don’t.

But when you create the space for honest conversations, you start to see the truth.

They are not behind. They just have not been given the confidence yet.

That realization is what led me to create LIFT, which stands for Learn, Invest, Finance, Thrive.

What started as a passion has grown into something I am deeply proud of. Through workshops, conversations, and simple, approachable tools, I have had the opportunity to work with over 300 students.

And as that work has grown, so has the impact—from launching my inaugural LIFT Scholarship to advocating for stronger financial literacy education across school districts in my state.

But in every room, I still see the same shift begin to happen.

It starts small.

A student asks a question they were too nervous to ask before.

Someone begins to think differently about saving.

Someone realizes they are capable of understanding more than they could have ever thought.

And then, slowly, that confidence builds.

That is the part people do not always talk about when it comes to financial literacy. Yes, it is about budgeting, saving, and making smart decisions. But it is also about something deeper.

It is about feeling in control of your future.

It is about trusting yourself to make decisions.

It is about removing the fear that so many people carry when it comes to money.

That is what changed for me. And that is what I want for every student I reach.

Because financial literacy is not just about managing money. It is about building confidence.

And when you build confidence, everything else begins to follow.

That is what LIFT is all about.

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Jaade Gillespie is the current Miss Blackstone Valley (MA). You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

From Survival to Service: Finding My Voice Through Pageantry

By Nazly Zoar

Growing up, my story began in a home shaped by resilience. My mother immigrated to the United States in search of a better life for us, but along the way, we faced the harsh realities of domestic violence. At a young age, I found myself navigating not only that trauma, but also a world where my mother didn’t speak English and relied heavily on me.

I stepped into a role many children should never have to becoming a translator, a protector, and in many ways, a second parent. While my mother was incredibly strong, hardworking and loving, there was an unspoken pressure I carried daily. At school, I was balancing academics while quietly holding the weight of my responsibilities at home. As a single parent household, we also relied on community resources like food banks and support services, which, at the time, felt overwhelming and humbling.

But through it all, my mother always showed me how to find light in the darkest moments. She taught me that receiving help is not something to be ashamed of, it is something that connects us as human beings. As I grew older, she encouraged me to give back through volunteering, and that experience transformed my perspective. It showed me the beauty in service, the strength in community, and the power of compassion.

Not long ago, my mother became a U.S. resident and I a U.S citizen, a moment that filled  us with pride and for me a renewed purpose. It inspired me to use my voice not just for myself, but for others especially women living in shelters due to domestic violence.

Through my platform, Sashed to Serve, I advocate for women’s rights, raise awareness, organize charity events, and work to distribute essential resources. One of my proudest initiatives includes providing menstrual kits and beauty supplies to women in need, because every woman deserves dignity, confidence, and the ability to feel like herself, no matter her circumstances.

Pageantry came into my life at a time when I was still finding my confidence. I was shy, unsure, and far from what I thought a “pageant girl” looked like I grew up on a farm and never considered myself particularly feminine. But through this journey, I’ve learned that femininity is not a mold it’s a choice, an expression, and a strength. Pageantry has shown me that I deserve to be seen, to take up space, and to have my voice heard.

It has also taught me that this is not just about competition, it’s about community. When every woman steps onto the stage with purpose, there is no rivalry, only opportunity. Opportunity to uplift, to collaborate, and to create meaningful change together.

Today, I continue to grow my platform with intention, using my voice and my reach to create impact. What once felt like hardship has now become my purpose and I carry that with me in every step I take.

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Nazly Zoar is the current Miss California Petite. You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

I AM: Turning Loss into Purpose and Giving Others a Reason to Stay

By Anistacia Aragon

On January 8th, 2020, I lost one of my close friends and classmates to suicide, and my life has never been the same. 

Suicide is, unfortunately, a common cause of death—but not a common topic of conversation. Globally, more than 700,000 people die by suicide each year, which is roughly one person every 40 to 45 seconds. These are not just numbers—they are people, families, and communities forever changed. 

After Tyler’s passing, my grief quickly turned into something even heavier. Because I was the last person to text him, I experienced intense cyberbullying. I was blamed for his death and called things no one—especially a 15-year-old girl—should ever have to hear. I remember sitting in my room, staring at my phone, watching message after message come in—each one more hurtful than the last—feeling like the world had already decided who I was, and that I didn’t deserve to be here. 

At the same time, the world shut down due to COVID-19, and isolation only amplified the pain. The bullying was constant, and I felt completely alone. My mental health reached its lowest point, and over the course of five months, I attempted to take my own life three times. 

After my final attempt in July of 2020, I made the most important decision of my life—to reach out for help. It wasn’t easy. It didn’t fix everything overnight. But it was the first step toward choosing to stay. Opening up to my loved ones didn’t erase the pain, but it reminded me that I wasn’t alone—and that my story wasn’t over. 

When I returned to school that August, I made a choice: I would no longer be reactive to what happened to me—I would be proactive in creating change. 

My Community Service Initiative, “I AM,” originally began with something simple—going into classrooms and talking about kindness. But over time, it has grown into something much greater. 

In 2023, I produced a fashion show for suicide awareness and prevention, raising over $4,000 that was donated to local suicide prevention programs in New Mexico. The show brought together 150 models and 21 designers, and more than 80% of participants had either struggled with their mental health, experienced suicidal ideation, or lost someone to suicide. It became more than an event—it became a space for healing, storytelling, and community. After one presentation, a student came up to me and said, “I didn’t think anyone understood how I felt until today.” That moment reminded me exactly why this work matters. 

Since then, my program has expanded to serve students of all ages. I now present in grades K–12, covering topics such as self-love, positive self-talk, healthy coping mechanisms, mental health awareness, and cultural appreciation. Over the past six years, I’ve had the opportunity to speak in over 100 classrooms across New Mexico. 

The newest branch of my initiative is “Raíces y Resiliencia,” which focuses on helping individuals find peace through dance. As a Ballet Folklórico dancer since the age of two, and a teacher for the past four years, I wanted to create a program that could offer others the same healing outlet that dance gave me. This past year, I founded a Folklórico group in Las Cruces, offering low-cost classes and creating an accessible space for self-expression. The program has since expanded into school outreach through after-school programs, community workshops, and performances, ensuring that culture, movement, and healing are available to all. 

Everything I do today is rooted in where I started—January 8th, 2020. In loss. In confusion. In a version of myself that didn’t think she would make it through. 

But I did. 

And because I did, I made a promise to turn my pain into purpose. 

What began as a young girl walking into classrooms to talk about kindness has grown into something far greater than I ever imagined. Through “I AM” and its newest branch, “Raíces y Resiliencia,” I’ve been able to create spaces where people feel seen, heard, and valued—whether that’s in a classroom, on a stage, or through the movement of dance. 

From producing a fashion show that gave a voice to over 150 individuals, to speaking in more than 100 classrooms, to building a community through Folklórico in Las Cruces—every step of this journey has been about one thing: making sure no one feels alone in their struggles. 

Because I know what it feels like to be that 15-year-old girl—grieving, blamed, isolated, and searching for a reason to stay. 
So this is bigger than a title. Bigger than a crown. Bigger than a competition. 

This is about changing the narrative. 

It’s about teaching the next generation that kindness is not optional, that mental health matters, and that healing is possible. It’s about reminding people that their story is not over—even when it feels like it is. Because the truth is, suicide doesn’t just take lives—it leaves behind silence, stigma, and unanswered questions. And the only way we break that cycle is by choosing to talk about it, openly and compassionately. 

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s this: we don’t have to wait for change—we can become it. 

And I will continue to use my voice, my platform, and my passion to ensure that no one ever feels like they have to fight their battles alone.

Because someone out there is still searching for a reason to stay—and together, we can be that reason.

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Anistacia Aragon is the current Miss Three Crosses (NM). You can follow her on Instagram. And you can also follow her CSI: I AM.

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

From Survival to Strength: Why I Started Beyond the Binge

By Kylie Burgess

When people see a crown or sash, they often assume the journey has always been filled with confidence, success, and shining moments. But like so many others, my story didn’t begin that way.

Before I ever stepped into the world of the Miss America Organization, I was fighting battles that many people couldn’t see.

For years, I struggled with binge eating, anxiety, depression, and the weight—both physical and emotional—that came with them. I felt trapped in a cycle that made me question my worth and my ability to ever truly feel free. Some days, simply getting through the day felt like a victory.

But recovery has a way of slowly teaching you that your hardest chapters can become the very reason you’re able to help someone else.

That realization became the heart behind my Community Service Initiative, Beyond the Binge.

Beyond the Binge is about more than just discussing eating disorders or unhealthy relationships with food. It’s about creating safe spaces where people can talk openly about their struggles, their healing, and the truth that recovery isn’t a straight line.

For so long, I believed my struggles were something to hide. I thought my past disqualified me from doing anything meaningful or standing confidently in front of others.

Instead, it did the opposite.

Sharing my story has allowed me to connect with students, families, and community members who may be facing similar battles. Whether I’m visiting a classroom, speaking with young students, or simply having one-on-one conversations after an appearance, I’m reminded that honesty has power.

When one person says, “Me too,” walls start to come down.

One of my biggest goals through Beyond the Binge is helping people understand that caring for our bodies isn’t about chasing a certain look—it’s about honoring the life we’ve been given. True wellness is built on compassion, balance, and learning to treat ourselves with the same kindness we offer others.

This mission also connects closely with the Miss America Fit initiative within the Miss America Organization, which focuses on health and wellness in a holistic way. It reminds us that taking care of our bodies is about strength, nourishment, and respect—not perfection.

Today, when I stand on stage preparing for the Miss North Carolina Competition this June, I’m not just standing there as a competitor. I’m standing there as someone who survived the hardest seasons of her life and decided to turn them into purpose.

My journey hasn’t been perfect, and recovery is something I continue to choose every day.

But if sharing my story helps even one person realize they are not alone… then every difficult chapter has been worth it.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing we can do isn’t pretending we’ve never struggled.

It’s choosing to rise beyond it.

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Kylie Burgess is the current Miss Concord (NC). You can follow her on Instagram. And you can also follow Beyond the Binge.

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.

Photos by Carlos Velez Studios

When 18 Isn't Exciting

By Sarah Bachman

I’ve always loved my routines. Right now as a college student, my routine looks something like this: Wake up, eat breakfast, go to class, work out, study, get ready for bed, plan tomorrow, and go to sleep. There’s something grounding about structure. Even when my schedule is packed, I like knowing where I’m supposed to be and what I’m working toward. One of the biggest changes I’ve faced in my four years of college was simply switching my class schedule to finish my degree requirements, and even that small shift felt big. Sometimes I wasn’t all too fond of my schedule either. If I had a busy day, where would I fit in studying or my nannying job that I rely on for some extra money?

Think about your own schedule. What parts do you like? What parts frustrate you? Most of us, if we’re honest, still prefer some kind of structure. Stability. Predictability. A place to come back to at the end of the day.

When I was 18, the world felt like it was opening. I was graduating from high school. I had friends and family who loved me. I had a room to call my own. I had time to think about my future and where my career might take me. It was all so exciting!

Now think about where you were at 18. Or if you’re younger, imagine what you hope 18 will look like. Freedom. Opportunity. Independence.

For some teenagers though, 18 does not feel like freedom. It feels like a cliff.

For thousands of young people in the foster care system, turning 18 means the support they have relied on is suddenly pulled out from under them. They may have moved from home to home for years. They may not even have a clear concept of what home truly means. Their belongings do not fill a bedroom. They fit into a trash bag.

And then at 18, they are expected to be grateful and ready.
In the United States, only about 50 percent of youth in foster care graduate from high school by age 18. Of those who do graduate, roughly 20 percent enroll in college, and only a small percentage, often cited at around 3 to 10 percent, actually earn a degree. At the same time, nearly 50 percent of youth who age out of foster care experience homelessness by age 26, and many experience housing instability immediately after turning 18.

While many of us are stressing about perfecting a morning routine or adjusting to a new class schedule, some 18 year olds are trying to figure out where they will sleep that night. Their main goal is not optimizing productivity. It is survival.
How is anyone supposed to focus on studying for an exam when they do not know if they will have dinner? How is anyone supposed to fill out college applications without stable internet, a permanent address, or an adult who wants to guide them and not exploit them? How is anyone supposed to just go to college when they are working full-time simply to stay off the street?
Society tells students to go to college, get a degree, and build a future. But for many foster youth, the high school diploma they fought so hard to earn is dismissed as not enough, while the path to the next step feels almost impossible to access. Why is a high school diploma considered enough for foster youth but not for their peers?

Foster youth are smart. Resilient. Capable. Many have navigated more change before age 18 than most of us will face in a lifetime. What they often lack is not ability. It is stability, support, and someone consistently in their corner.

They deserve the chance to go to college.

They deserve the opportunity to pursue a trade.

They deserve to discover what a routine feels like, not one built around survival but one built around growth and an opportunity to improve their futures.

They deserve to define what home means for themselves.
Raising awareness means advocating for extended support services, mentorship programs, housing assistance, and educational funding specifically for youth aging out of foster care. It means recognizing that independence at 18 looks very different depending on where you start.

So the next time you adjust your class schedule, complain about an early lecture, or romanticize the excitement of turning 18, pause for a moment. For some, 18 is the beginning of possibility. For others, it is the beginning of uncertainty. And that is why this conversation matters.

Routine should not be a luxury. 

Stability should not be rare. 

And turning 18 should not feel like the ground is disappearing beneath your feet.

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Sarah Bachman is the Current Miss Dallas County (TX). You can follow her on Instagram. 

This is her first guest blog for Section 36 Forevers.