The first time I stepped onto a competition platform, the world went silent. The barbell wasn’t just weight. It was visibility. Under the lights, I rarely saw women who looked like me: brown skin, Caribbean roots, unapologetically strong. In that moment, I began to understand power, not just physical strength, but structural power. Who gets seen. Who gets heard. Who gets to lead.

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I was raised in South Florida, the daughter of a Haitian father and a German mother from the Cayman Islands. I grew up in an ecosystem where elite athletes were not distant celebrities, but they were classmates, neighbors, and family friends. At American Heritage High School, Division I coaches walked the halls regularly. Professional futures felt tangible. But I noticed something early: talent attracted attention. Representation determined longevity. My journey into sport began behind the scenes. After knee surgery ended my basketball season, I became my high school’s first sports medicine student, logging over 2,000 hours working directly with athletes. I taped ankles before sunrise. Packed coolers for away games. Sat with injured players when the crowd had gone home. I later founded the school’s first Sports Medicine Club, which still operates today with dozens of students serving hundreds of hours each semester. That injury, which once felt like devastation, became redirection. What I thought ended my story became the turning point that sharpened it. My faith deepened. My resilience solidified. I began to see setbacks not as barriers, but alignment.

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At Rice University, I initially pursued sports medicine and bioengineering research, co-authoring a peer-reviewed study in the Cell Biomaterials Journal on peptide release kinetics. I worked with Division I football and studied cartilage regeneration. I understood the body.

But I kept noticing patterns beyond it: athletes who didn’t understand their contracts, women absent from negotiation tables, and systemic inequities embedded in NCAA policy. I realized I didn’t just want to treat injuries. I wanted to understand, and eventually influence, the economic systems governing athletes’ lives. I pivoted into sport law and co-founded Rice University’s first Sport Law Society. In one year, we built a national undergraduate pipeline into sports law: mentorship programs, LSAT access initiatives, branded competitions, and industry partnerships. We became the first undergraduate team in history to compete in the Tulane International Baseball Arbitration Competition and later the 2nd in the Tulane Professional Basketball Negotiation Competition, placing in the top third against over 30 law schools.

I then published in the Harvard Undergraduate Law Review, analyzing the House v. NCAA settlement and arguing that its 22% revenue-sharing cap functions as a de facto salary cap in a labor market where athletes lack collective bargaining power. My work centers on athlete economic equity, not performative reform, but structural fairness.

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That same drive carried me to WME Sports in New York, where I interned in the basketball division under senior leadership. I supported athlete marketing strategy, brand positioning, draft preparation, and recruitment analysis for a client class that included four lottery picks. Sitting in rooms with agents and executives, I saw what advocacy looks like at the highest level. At the same time, I am acutely aware that very few Black women sit in those rooms. Black women make up only 2% of certified sports agents nationwide and only 2% of attorneys in the United States (Essence 2025). In negotiation rooms and executive suites, that absence is visible. I do not interpret that statistic as discouragement. I interpret it as responsibility. When I returned to Rice, students kept asking me how I secured that internship. That question became the foundation for something bigger. I founded Rice Athletics’ NIL Education & Support Team (N.E.S.T.), building an agency-style training program that connects student-athletes with brand strategy, outreach education, and real-world NIL opportunity pipelines. I wanted to create the infrastructure I wished had existed when I started.

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Outside of the boardroom, I continue to compete at an elite level. I founded the Rice Olympic Weightlifting Team and led it to a national ranking. I placed 2nd in the nation in Olympic weightlifting, 1st in Texas and Florida, and later earned recognition the 6th best collegiate powerlifter at my first ever powerlifting competition. I now represent the Cayman Islands internationally in powerlifting. Strength has always been my language, both on the platform and in life. Every lift has been a quiet act of defiance: a Black, Caribbean woman standing confidently in spaces not designed for her. I lift for the girls, who told their bodies were “too heavy” and their dreams were "too big." I lift for the athletes who never saw themselves reflected in leadership. I lift for the future clients who deserve representation that understands both their vulnerability and their power. Everything I have built (teams, organizations, research, NIL infrastructure, negotiation experience, elite competition) aligns toward one vision:

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To advocate for athletes not merely as assets, but as owners.

Owners of their contracts.
Owners of their brands.
Owners of their post-career futures.

I understand the athlete’s body.
I understand the pressure.
I understand the stakes.

Because I have lived them.

This is not just my story.
It is the foundation of the rooms I intend to walk into and the tables I intend to reshape.