Success is objective, like a piece of art. How one person manifests it, the steps they take, the stumbles that sometimes become falls is unique to each individual and, in hindsight, is also a piece of art. Some might say success is achieving great wealth or fame. Others might say success entails conquering the critical milestones in life at the expected times and doing as is expected. I find success is something different. Sure, great wealth and fame may appear desirable, but if you've no one to share or enjoy it with, it could easily resemble hell. Achieving milestones in life might be very fulfilling, but if you're not true to yourself and following your heart or pursuing your dreams, then undoubtedly, you will feel emptier than ever. In my eyes, the first key to success is knowing what is valuable in life, and it is not money. The true worth in life lies in connection: connecting with others, creating meaningful experiences, connecting with your true self, and finding your potential. Wealth lies in knowledge, acceptance, and respect. Learning that everyone is different and that it takes the good, the bad, the happy, and the sad to bring peace genuinely. Pain brings joy. If you did not experience pain, how could you know joy? Accept who you are and appreciate what you have to offer. Then, accept the person next to you and enjoy what they offer. Respect life of all varieties. You do not need to know or agree with another person's lifestyle or opinions to respect them. The second key to success is to fail. I know that sounds backward, but hear me out. No one reaches the point of triumph without failing at least once first. Step out of your comfort zone. If you spend your days continually doing things you already know, you are not growing or developing. Every victorious story about overcoming obstacles requires blood, sweat, tears, and hard work beyond measure. It makes the victory that much sweeter. It makes the fight worth fighting. Those are the stories of wars won, even if a battle or two was lost. The last key to success is remembering not to compare yourself and your progress with that of others. You are different people on different life paths. What is suitable for you at a certain age or time may not be ideal for someone else, which is okay. Know yourself, and be solid in who you are. People will talk, they will make comments, they will judge. Let them and, on the contrary, do not judge them in return. They judge in the first place because they are not happy with themselves. Your job is to worry about where you're headed; there is no time to judge another. Success can mean many things to many people. But, to me, success is connections, finding joy in pain, and creating enriching experiences with others and yourself. It's about being true to yourself and what you find fulfilling in this life. Success is knowing that with every failure, you are that much closer to reaching your goal and using that fact to fuel your journey. It's about holding your head up high during times of uncertainty or when the entire world might judge your every move. Keep moving with intention and determination, come into who you are meant to be, and see your path's impact on this world.

As a child of a violent sex offender, I know too well how society views others who commit crimes. I grew up being stared at and understanding the whispers I heard behind me were about my dad. It was bad enough to grow up without having a father figure in my life but knowing the reason I did not was because he was a rapist and a murderer was not a childhood that any other child I knew experienced. I learned at a very early age of the stigma a prison sentence can carry on not just the offender but his entire family. It created a wound that I was not aware existed. A wound that was gaping and went decades without being mended. If being a child of someone who had committed such dishonorable and unethical acts was not large enough of a weight to bear when I turned seventeen, my father was released, and within a year, I became one of his victims. I had no idea that there was a purpose for me to experience such an unfair event. I had no clue that purpose would also heal me until about fifteen years later, shortly after my father had passed. One of the silver linings of being a child of a person like my father was that I grew up seeing all people as human beings. I never judged anyone by their situation or looked down upon them for mistakes they had made. I believed that everyone had good inside them somewhere, and my mindset was always that no matter how awful a person acted, someone out there liked and probably loved them for a good reason. Last year, my husband went to prison. I stuck by his side because I was someone out there somewhere who loved him for a good reason. While he was in prison he contracted Covid. Instead of receiving medical treatment, he was thrown into solitary confinement, stripped of his clothing, and given nothing but a paper spoon to eat with. They did not even provide him with toilet paper. He had a fever and had to resort to lying naked in a cell covered in fecal matter and someone else's blood. Someone called me on his behalf and informed me what was happening, and I was sick to my stomach. I called the facility and inquired as to why he was being met with punishment for an illness and was told, "He is not being punished; he's getting 23 and 1." This meant he was on a 23-hour lockdown. They hung up on me. I repeatedly called to get an answer, and each time, I was disconnected without answers. I called the internal investigative dept. And complained. Within 12 hours, he was released from there, and then I began to hear more and more stories about other prisoners like this. I made complaints for everyone. A few days later, the warden called me to inform me he looked into my complaints and found each one valid. He said solitary would be temporarily shut down and all complaints eradicated. I received call after call from grateful inmates, nearly crying and thanking me for treating them like humans. I started to sob, thinking how my dad would have been so proud of me and how I was proud of myself. I started my prisoner's rights advocacy with that single incident and made a difference. I began to heal. It begins with caring. It begins with seeing the good. It starts with one person taking a chance and others to see its effect.

My dream is to become a forensic psychologist. The experiences in my life have ignited a fire inside of me that roars with purpose, and I refuse to allow any obstacle to snuff it out. Getting here took a 35-year journey through a personal hell resembling a life story. That torturous journey was necessary, or I never would have understood what I do now. My father was a man who committed several acts of horror. These acts ran deep, in large quantity, and hurt more than I know of. My mother told me my dad tried to cut me out of her stomach when she was pregnant. He beat her so severely that she couldn't even open her eyes. After I was born, he would keep her from tending to me when I cried in my crib. Sometimes, he would not let her go to me for hours. I learned to self-soothe as a tiny baby. I found it very hard to believe these stories because I could not recall any memories of my father being anything other than loving and funny. I was a daddy's girl. I did not have many memories as my father was incarcerated when I was one year old and was not released until I was nearly 17. He was imprisoned for rape and a registered tier 3 sex offender. Of course, I knew my dad did not rape anyone. That's what he told me, and he would not dare lie. It wasn't until he was released and I moved in with him that the horrific truth of his identity began to unfold. Not but a couple of months after I moved in, he molested me. It broke my heart. I had wholeheartedly believed my dad was framed all those years. He started treating me terribly, and I was so confused, for I had never done him wrong. I eagerly forgave him because I so desperately wanted my father's love. But, for years and years after, I carried the wounds with me and was very self-destructive. It was not until my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer that I could see. This was the best thing to have ever happened to him. It spread to his spine, and he became paralyzed. This event changed my father. For the first time in my life, in his life- he treated others (women especially) like human beings. He was genuinely kind and considerate and seemed to gain a personality in areas that previously held a void. I suddenly realized that my dad wasn't evil. He was deeply afflicted. Looking back, I could understand that his behavior was fueled by urges that consumed him worse than any addiction, and they controlled him like a tortured puppet. I saw a different perspective on everything. He didn't like being that way, so the terrible things he did manifested in the ways they did. It was self-loathing, and he could not help himself. I decided that I wanted to help others with these urges. I realized that we don't know what will help these types of offenders, nor do we have the resources. My goal became to understand why or how these urges affect some people and try to pave the road to help them. This is the best way to help any future potential victims. We need to try a new approach, see things in a different light, and try to show compassion. I realized that though their victims are affected, so are the ones committing these atrocities.

The Millenial-Gen Z generation is born with an inherent understanding of ideals and values that sit on a higher thought process than previous generations. With the acceptance and supportive stances on gender issues and the explosion of the open LGBTQ community, it seems this generation has a deep understanding of human value rooted in being who you feel comfortable being. It is positive in its steadfast direction in moving forward. It is empowering and encompasses unconditional love and the practice of judging less. It's a generation that emphasizes mental health and speaks of trauma in a way that has never been done before. Most would say it is a vast difference compared to past generations. Some might even agree they are polar opposite from any other generation we have seen. Is it different, though? Did the Millenial-Gen Z generation forms its way of thinking, unified acceptance, tech-savvy futuristic visions, and "we got this!" attitudes on their own? It may seem they have, but I beg to differ. As a millennial, I have noticed a few things about the generation I am part of. Many of us came from homes where our parents were not equipped to provide what they had (or didn't have) growing up. I am not speaking only in terms of material or financial stability. A lot of us were dealt with unstable homes emotionally. Those who did not experience these hardships often faced hardships later in life, from being sheltered to being fortunate enough not to have a toxic household. When I was a child, my parents were all but absent. My father spent my entire childhood in prison, and my mom battled addiction and domestic violence. Eventually, my grandmother raised me. In fact, many kids I knew lived with their grandparents. That's right, a good chunk of my generation was raised by The Silent Generation or Baby Boomers. One of my grandmothers was from the Greatest Generation. Because of these intertwined connections, it becomes pretty logical how the Millenial-Gen Z generation turned out to be such a pioneer generation. With age comes wisdom, they say. The same story has been told for as long as time has allowed it—the story of the older generation becoming embittered by the ways of the younger generation. The younger generation laughs at their crotchety ramblings of how the old days were better. The older generation was infuriated at the lack of respect shown, swearing they never acted that way at that age! I think the Millenial-Gen Z generation has an impactful effect because the generations of old primarily raised this generation. When the older generations raised their kids, they were chasing the American Dream. They worked hard; they did what they were supposed to. They saw the world go through horrendous and desperate times with little hope. They lived through it, and maybe the pain from all that was too grave to discuss, so they didn't. Instead, they just built futures equipped with every precaution to prevent their children from living through the same hardships. That was how they showed their love. They did not express it in words because they were hardened by the world's dark times, and it was just a different time. But, in doing so, their children were introduced to a life of convenience without understanding its convenience. So they created problems to have, like addiction and other issues. This led to a lot of my generation being raised by their grandparents who had no choice but to see precisely how a generation like the Millenial-Gen Z is born, bred, and matured. The kids of this generation were nurtured in some form by the older generations, and the older generations accepted things they would never have with their kids, like being gay or trans. The same generation who would instill shame in their children is the same generation who would promote individuality and display unconditional love in their grandchildren. With age came wisdom and also, likely, regret. When the opportunity to possibly right a wrong of the past presented itself, maybe they took it. Maybe it was conscious. Maybe it was not. These small moments in bits of time show that no generation is stuck in one time. Adapting is imminent and influential. My generation has adopted many values from the generations our grandparents belonged to, like hard work, responsibility, resiliency, and caring for those we love. But the relationship forged between the old and the new generations brought forth unconditional love, the idea that anything is possible, following your dreams, and the understanding that some things are more important than money. And the older generation shared their stories with us. The despair, cruelty, and horror of things like war and judging others for their religion, race, or sexuality. They allowed us to see into that window of sorrow they silently carried for too long. This allowed our generation to empathize, stripped us of our judgments more, and showed us that hate is not good for anyone. We needed them, and they needed us. Their stories, their regrets, their realizations with age gave us the courage to pave a new road for the future of all humans.

The dream version of my future self is a fiercely tenacious, but understanding and non-judgemental, diplomatic person who bridges the gaps in society that keep humans from evolving and working together to lift each other up and improve life for all creatures on this planet.

The great thing about America is, you can find and make your way to the top. It doesn't matter how impoverished, deprived, or lacking in opportunity you may appear. If a person wants something and they focus and put all they have into achieving it, the goal can and will be theirs. This fact has been revealed in the lives of so many people, from Rosa Parks to Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and shows itself again when the many fight for the few and overcome that which most would have otherwise thought impossible. That is truly what makes America great, the chance to stand alone against your adversaries and find the courage to stand tall, the strength to persevere, and the will to keep trying and not back down. A change I feel is necessary in this country is the view Americans as well as those who work in the corrections administration both view and treat inmates. It is often inhumane, and abusive, and only breaks the spirit of those who are already bearing the internal burden of their mistakes. Whether a person has or has not committed a crime, does not warrant their life being devalued, or their worth and potential rendered nonexistent. This mindset is hateful, and shameful, and needs to change. Society does it over and over and never stops to look within. It does not matter what action a person has been accused or convicted of, basic humanity should not be deprived from anyone. I want to invoke each person who reads this to ask themselves this if you committed a crime -there should be no weight of your decision based on the severity of the crime for it is irrelevant- do you think that means you should be treated like the scum of the Earth? Does it warrant you not receiving appropriate care for your well-being and safety? What if you were innocent, truly? See, this is why the severity of the crime is irrelevant as there are so many innocent people imprisoned and so many guilty people still walking the streets. Yet, the guilty free man walks the streets and receives a treatment consisting of respect, consideration, and value at a higher level than an imprisoned innocent person. Prison conditions in America are overall deplorable. We rob inmates of their Quality of Life, of their hope, and break their spirits. They do not receive adequate care in terms of nutrition, health, or resources to improve their behaviors. They are treated like animals and often worse than that. I want to change this by advocating for their humanity. It cannot promote good behavior or reduce recidivism rates to cause further shame, pain, and commit abuse towards another person for any reason.

My plan comes from a very personal point. My reason for existing, every struggle that I have yet had to face, and the core of who I am as a person can be traced back to criminal justice. My father was in prison from the time I was a year old and was not released until I was seventeen. He was convicted of rape and was a murderer. Growing up was filled with visit after visit to a maximum security prison. At the time, I had no idea visiting your father in prison was not a normal event for every other child. It wasn't until later on in my life that it was revealed to me as abnormal. I recall entering the visiting room as a little girl. I was always forced to dress up which I hated but looking back I could see the significance. It was to remind my dad of the innocence that still existed in the world, while his immediate surroundings displayed anything but. When I would walk in the visitation area, I would always wave and say hello to anyone on my pathway because I was so social. All the men always waved back and went out of their way to smile at me. Many of them would comment to me how great of a guy my dad was. Whether they felt that way, I will never know. It wasn't until looking back on these memories when I was much older that I realized something. All of those men were prisoners in a maximum security prison. This meant they committed violent or sexual crimes in nature. As a child, I never thought twice that they had done something wrong to be sitting there. It wasn't the way I thought. But, it dawned on me that regardless of the potentially horrible things they might have done to end up in there when I came to see my dad, they went out of their way to make me feel proud of my dad. They did whatever they could to make me feel like a normal little girl if only for a few hours. It was then that I understood they were not monsters the way society and even the corrections officers often treat and view them. They were human beings. Human beings that everyone else had given up on. Humans made mistakes and though some of those mistakes were great, it didn't mean they were less valuable than anyone else. This very philosophy that I hold so dear to my heart came to be my calling. I am meant to give inmates a voice. To advocate for their rights, and their chance to have quality of life, even if that is during incarceration. I want to change the corrections system to stop treating inmates like they are unworthy of being treated humanely. For, how could that possibly encourage anyone to reform? If you want to instill change positively, you cannot plant seeds of hatred in the heart of man. You will not receive the results you seek.

My father is the entire reason I've chose my career path. Though I grew up only knowing him through visiting him in prison, his choices have greatly affected my life. He was a convicted rapist and a murderer. He was my dad and the only one I knew. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer and passed away two days after turning 61. His life and passing gave me no choice but to fight and work for everything I've ever obtained. He is my reason for choosing a career path in criminal justice. I want others to see that though I am the spawn of someone who made monstrous choices, I am not him. I have always felt partially responsible for his horrible choices and want to fight for those who cannot speak for themselves. I want to give back. I want to positively change things in the justice system and impact lives in a much greater way that he did, and I want it to come from a place of good and selflessness as opposed to selfishness and cruelty. I want to find a way to apologize to society by burning brighter than any dark he exuded. I want to find a reason why these things happen and I want to do what the justice system was meant to do: help and reform.