Most athletes wouldn't brag about this, but I do. It took me three years to win my first wrestling match. That statistic has turned out to be one of the most important parts of my story and my growth. Wrestling didn’t come naturally to me. I wasn’t the strongest or the fastest, and I was a novice when I joined the team my sophomore year, after relocating across the United States for my mother's job. As someone with Autism, wrestling poses sensory challenges, and I had to learn to manage those, communicate effectively with coaches and teammates, and learn to be my best self in intense environment that often felt overwhelming. I kept showing up. I kept training. I kept listening. I lost too many matches to count. And eventually, I won. Wrestling changed the way I view adversity by teaching me that progress isn’t always fast or easy, but it’s always possible if you stay committed, coachable, and open to learning. As someone with autism, I was generally hesitant to ask for help or unsure how to process feedback. Wrestling helped me to overcome those barriers. I learned that I wanted to improve and be successful, I had to learn to acknowledge my weaknesses and be coachable. That meant listening closely, accepting correction, and trusting others to guide me. In the moment that always felt uncomfortable, but in hindsight, learning to hone those skills was transformative. Slowly, I began to see that adversity, i.e. losing matches, wasn’t something to avoid at all costs, but rather, it was something for me to grow through. I learned that failure isn’t final unless you let it be. Losing match after match could have discouraged me, but with the help of my coaches and family, it motivated me. I focused on technique, strategy, and mindset. I started to understand that wrestling is as much mental as it is physical. Each setback became an opportunity to reflect and adjust. Finally, in my senior year, wins started coming, and more importantly, I saw my confidence and self-concept grow. What makes wrestling different from other sports I've done is how personal it feels. When I step on the mat, it’s just me and my opponent. With every strength and every weakness is exposed, that pressure over time has taught me to believe in myself, even when the odds weren’t in my favor. That pressure has also taught me to prepare to the best of my ability. Lastly, that pressure has taught me to bounce back when things don't go as planned. These lessons have carried over into my academic and personal life. I’ve become more focused, more resilient, and more willing to advocate for myself and others. This year, I accepted an offer to wrestle at Linfield University, a decision that reflects the impact this sport has had on me. Wrestling didn’t just make me stronger physically, it made me aware of my potential. In just three years, I am more coachable, confident, and resilient in the face of setbacks. These changes have had a direct impact on my hopes for the future. Because of wrestling, I have the mindset and mental toughness to face challenges far beyond the mat, like law school, advocacy work, and standing up for people whose voices are often ignored. I plan to study Law, Rights, and Justice and become a lawyer who works to make systems more inclusive and equitable. Wrestling showed me that progress takes time, effort, and belief, and I now carry that same belief into my future: that I can make a lasting impact.

I’ve never been the loudest in the room, but on my journey to higher education, I have learned how to make my voice count. Growing up with Autism, I faced challenges with communication, social interaction, and adapting to new environments. In second grade, I was reading at a kindergarten level and often felt left behind. But with the support of my family, teachers, therapists, and providers, I gradually developed the tools I needed to succeed. I learned to ask for help, manage sensory overload, and advocate for myself. By my junior year of high school, I felt like I was finally doing what I was capable of. I never gave up, and balanced varsity sports, including wrestling, football, and track, with rigorous coursework, which led me to received recognition as a 2024 Academic All Star. My experiences over years taught me one challenge at a time how to manage my time, prioritize, enjoy hobbies, overcome barriers, and learn how to thrive. I don’t recall exactly when I first decided I wanted to become a lawyer, but I vividly remember my dream taking off in 8th grade when I had the opportunity to shadow a prosecutor at the Charleston County Solicitor’s Office. Walking into that courthouse, hearing the echoes in the halls, and watching the courtroom in action, I saw how law could be used to protect people’s rights and promote fairness. That moment showed me that the legal system isn’t just about rules—it’s about using structure to create change. I plan to study Law, Rights, and Justice in college to build a strong foundation in legal systems, public policy, and ethics. While I’m still exploring which type of law I’ll pursue, I know I’m drawn to helping others who feel unseen or underserved. Navigating education as a student with Autism and growing up at the intersection of multiple cultures has given me a deep appreciation for justice, equity, and inclusion. Studying law will allow me to turn that understanding into action. I hope to make a difference by becoming a lawyer who challenges assumptions and advocates for more inclusive systems. My goal is to support and advocate for families, and communities navigating environments that were not designed with them in mind. Whether it’s in education, disability rights, or another area, I want to help others access opportunities, understand their rights, and feel empowered to speak up. I also hope to be a mentor and a role model for others who feel different or underestimated, showing them that their identities are strengths, not obstacles. In my community and future career, I want to use my experiences, education, and empathy to build a more equitable world where all voices are valued, and everyone has a fair chance to thrive.

People don’t always know what to expect when I walk into a room. As a Black student with Autism, I’ve learned that assumptions often come before introductions. I’ve been underestimated, overlooked, or excluded, not always maliciously, but because the world often struggles to make space for identities that don’t fit the mold. These experiences, while challenging, have shaped my purpose: to advocate for those who are misunderstood, and to help build a more inclusive society. That’s why I want to study law and why understanding people, cultures, and histories matters so much to me. This year, I’m taking a course in cultural anthropology, and it’s already begun to shift how I see the world. I’ve learned that culture isn’t just language or food—it’s the way people organize meaning, build systems, and pass on values. Anthropology asks us to examine how identity, power, and belonging shape societies, and also how they sometimes exclude. It has helped me understand that the systems I’ve struggled with weren’t created with everyone in mind. That insight matters deeply to me as someone who knows what it feels like to exist at the intersection of race, disability, and social expectation. One concept that stood out to me is cultural relativism—the idea that we must understand beliefs and behaviors within their own cultural contexts rather than judge them by our own standards. That’s a lesson I carry with me in everyday life. When you grow up in multiple cultural worlds, as I have—Black, Korean, Southern, and neurodiverse—you learn that empathy isn’t optional. You learn to listen, to translate, to adapt. But you also learn to speak up. I’ve carried these lessons into my own communities. Through wrestling and football, I’ve mentored younger teammates and helped build a culture of inclusion. Through church and school, I’ve cooked and delivered meals to people experiencing homelessness, seeing firsthand how social systems fail to meet people’s basic needs. And through my academic journey, I’ve worked to overcome the educational barriers often faced by students with Autism—learning to self-advocate, to ask for support, and to prove that my differences are strengths, not shortcomings. I want to make a difference by becoming a lawyer who uses the tools of history, anthropology, and political science to fight for equity. I believe that when we understand how systems are built, we can begin to change them. When we understand people in their full cultural and historical contexts, we make fewer assumptions and more meaningful progress. I want to use my voice, my experiences, and my education to help create a world where everyone is seen, heard, and valued—not despite who they are, but because of it.