Shaped by the quiet pulse of a small town, where a single train track hugs a winding river, my connection to the environment has always felt personal. In 2014, that same river, was the site of a train derailment, causing six cars of crude oil to be consumed. I remember watching it on the news with my parents, just a child then but sensing the heavy hearts of the town. My favorite thing about the river was going there to fish with my dad, in the cool early mornings up before the sunrise. Dad says fishing along the river has never quite been the same. That moment became a catalyst for me. Now, as I look ahead five years, my goal is to create positive environmental impact by using society’s lust for economic gain as a mechanism to uplift environmental sustainability. It begins, as it often does, at the community table. Volunteering in my teens with Lynchburg Daily Bread, my local soup kitchen, showed me how food systems intersect with both human wellness and environmental waste. By serving meals made from rescued ingredients that would’ve otherwise gone to landfill, we’re not only nourishing the community, but reducing methane emissions and advocating for circular solutions. I want to be able to support and scale models like this, funding nonprofit food waste recovery networks through local grants and using community finance tools to spotlight organizations transforming leftovers into lifelines. At Stanford University, my environmental economics coursework has helped me see sustainability through a more technical lens. A final project I completed centered on cryptocurrency mining, examining how the explosive energy demands of digital assets are often hidden behind easy to access screens. As we rush toward digitization, it's vital to ask hard questions about how "invisible" economies impact natural resources. One of my goals for senior year is to work on an app that monetizes the environmental cost of emerging tech for everyday investors. When people know the carbon footprint of their crypto wallet or the water usage behind data centers, they're empowered to demand greener alternatives, all while making them profitable. Finance is often viewed as numbers in a spreadsheet. But to me, the numbers tell a story, a way to reimagine how resources flow and who they serve. For example, the number 20,000—that’s how many gallons of crude oil were dumped in the river that day. There is a need for workshops that tie together financial literacy and sustainability, being incentivized through tax subsidies. Budgeting for solar panels, understanding the ROI of energy-efficient appliances, or evaluating green investment funds are all skills that help individuals align their money with social good. Especially in small communities like mine, where impact can feel limited, this kind of knowledge plants seeds of autonomy and environmental agency. Back home, the river still flows, but not without its scars. That’s why one of my most personal ambitions is to advocate for city sponsored wellness initiatives focused on environmental healing. This could take the form of nature-based cleanup projects, public riverfront fitness programs, or educational events linking ecological restoration to mental health. By grounding wellness in place, I hope to cultivate a greater sense of community and connectedness to nature. What ties all this together is a belief in accountability. It needs to seep into the hearts of train towns and onto kitchen tables. Because if I’ve learned anything from watching that river, it’s this: change doesn’t need to rush. It needs to run deep.

I’m a small-town girl from Virginia, raised in a community where everyone was just trying to get by. My parents, who had me as teenagers, taught me what it truly means to work hard and give selflessly. We moved often, lived on limited resources, and leaned heavily on one other. But despite the instability, I always felt grounded in love and purpose. That upbringing shaped everything I am today: a student-athlete at Stanford University, an economics major with an interest in real estate, starter of the Palo Alto chapter of a program called Run Your City, and above all, someone who finds joy in uplifting others. One of my most meaningful efforts has been launching Run Your City – Palo Alto, a national nonprofit organization that I brought to Stanford to support underserved youth. In 6 week sessions, twice a year, every Sunday, we bring kids together for a free running and athletic club experience. Student-athletes volunteer their time to lead games, competitions, and mentoring moments that center around movement, confidence, and joy. Our goal is simple but powerful: give kids access to community, activity, and inspiration—especially those who might not otherwise have it. We host our sessions on Stanford’s campus, intentionally bringing them into an environment that feels welcoming and accessible, because I want every child to remember to dream big dreams. The inspiration behind this project is deeply personal: my younger sisters, ages five and eight. The older of the two— Empress, has ADHD and mild autism, and while her educational journey looks a bit different, she’s one of the most outgoing, compassionate people I know. She reminds me everyday that brilliance comes in many forms—and that with the right support, all kids can thrive. I want her, and every child, to feel excited about learning, confident in their abilities, and seen for who they are. Being far from home has been one of the hardest parts of college, but Run Your City has given me the outlet to stay connected to what matters most: family, community, and making an impact wherever I am. My passion for service began long before Stanford. I spent time volunteering at Lynchburg Daily Bread during high school, a local nonprofit soup kitchen in my hometown that serves hot meals 365 days a year. There, I saw firsthand how essential it is to show up for people—not just in times of crisis, but consistently, with care and humility. That experience sparked my interest in using my education to address larger structural issues, particularly around access to opportunity and wealth. That’s what drives my interest in economics and real estate. I want to create sustainable solutions that bring investment into underserved areas, especially communities like the one I grew up in. I believe in economic empowerment—helping families build generational wealth, increasing access to education, and using real estate development as a tool for equity, not displacement. I plan to dedicate my life to building environments where kids can dream bigger, families can grow stronger, and communities can thrive together. The most impactful thing my parents could ever do for me was show up— so I really believe in showing up, in lifting others, and in finding ways to serve no matter where life takes me. Time is all we have and you can never create more, that’s why it’s one of the greatest things you can offer up.