My name carries a legacy of resilience, family, and perseverance. It traces back to my maternal grandfather, “Big Jim” Ferguson, a man who overcame immense hardship. Born on a reservation in Oklahoma, he was sent away as a child because he didn’t meet the government’s arbitrary standards of Native American ancestry. He grew up navigating orphanages and foster homes until, at 16, he found a home on a Texas farm owned by Mrs. Ferguson—a woman who ultimately adopted him and gave him both her name and a true sense of belonging. The Ferguson name became the foundation of my family. My grandmother, Dema “Baba” Ferguson, was its heart. A woman of extraordinary strength, she raised four children alone after my grandfather’s sudden passing. With limited formal education but boundless determination, she ensured her family had stability, working as a seamstress and growing her own food—right in the city of Dallas. Her resilience shaped generations, and her unwavering strength remains a source of inspiration for me. My name may be Scottish by origin, but my roots are undeniably Texan. And while Texas, like America, is often misunderstood and politically divided, I believe in something simple: good people exist everywhere.