Serving my community has been one of the most important parts of who I am and how I continue to grow as a person. Through my work with FACE (Faith and Community Empowerment) and Lot318, I have learned how patience, consistency, and genuine care create lasting impact. At FACE, I have worked closely with immigrant families, many of whom are first-time homeowners facing unfamiliar legal and financial challenges. These families often encounter language barriers and complex paperwork that can feel overwhelming and isolating. My role involved helping them understand their rights and navigate the legal processes related to homeownership and residency. By providing clear explanations and patient support, I helped ease anxiety and empowered them to make informed decisions. This experience taught me that selflessness means offering more than just time. It means providing understanding, respect, and encouragement to those taking major steps toward building stable lives. Supporting these families reinforced my commitment to community service, showing me how small acts of guidance can help people secure safety and opportunity for themselves and their children. Volunteering at Lot318 gave me a deeper understanding of the challenges faced by low-income youth in my community. Lot318 is a community arts and education center that provides a safe space for kids to learn, express themselves, and build important life skills through tutoring, creative projects, and mentoring. As a tutor and mentor, I worked closely with students who struggled with their schoolwork and faced hardships at home, such as family instability or financial stress. Over time, I formed trusting relationships with several students. I listened to their stories and helped them develop confidence and problem-solving skills. These connections showed me how important it is to have consistent support and someone who believes in you. This experience opened my eyes to the inequalities many young people face and deepened my commitment to selflessness. I realized how fortunate I am to have access to resources and support, and I want to help others overcome the obstacles in their lives. Beyond FACE and Lot318, I have contributed to my community through several other projects. I have volunteered at homeless shelters, and in food and clothing drives to support families in need. I have participated in voter registration efforts to help increase civic engagement in my neighborhood. Additionally, I have taken leadership roles on my cross country, track, and soccer teams, where I emphasize teamwork and support for others. These experiences have helped me practice kindness, responsibility, and dedication in different ways. Maintaining strong academic performance is also part of how I embody selflessness. I have worked hard to earn good grades and high AP exam scores because I believe being in good health and well-prepared is the foundation for helping others effectively. Furthering my education in social sciences will provide me with tools to better understand complex social issues and design solutions that truly serve communities. This scholarship would make it possible for me to continue on that path. Looking to the future, I plan to combine my commitment to community service with a career in social sciences and law. I want to work toward policies that increase access to justice and create opportunities for marginalized groups. By amplifying voices that are often unheard, I hope to contribute to a fairer and more inclusive society. This scholarship would be a vital step in making those goals a reality. It would be an honor to be considered for the Michael Rudometkin Memorial Scholarship. Serving my community has shaped my values and identity, and I am determined to continue giving back in meaningful ways.

There’s this weird thing that happens when you grow up as an Asian American girl. People expect two things from you: that you’re smart, and that you’re quiet. And not the good kind of smart, more like calculator smart. Pressure to never raise my hand unless I was absolutely sure I was right. And for a long time, I stayed quiet. Not because I had nothing to say, but because I believed that no one wanted me to say anything at all. Then I watched Hidden Figures. I hadn’t expected a math-heavy NASA movie to change how I saw myself, but there I was, completely pulled in. The movie follows three brilliant Black women: Katherine Johnson, Mary Jackson, and Dorothy Vaughan. They worked at NASA during the height of the Space Race, performing calculations that sent astronauts into space. But what hit me wasn’t just how smart they were. It was how hard they had to fight just to be taken seriously. At every turn they faced constant disrespect and discrimination, not just for being Black, but for being women in a field dominated by white men. Sounded familiar. I saw so much of myself in them. Not in their exact experiences of course, but in the way they were expected to stay quiet, to be grateful for the scraps, to smile and not push back. Yet, they persisted. They spoke when it mattered. They demanded to be seen. They did the work and refused to let others take credit for it. And in this I saw a reflection of the person I wanted to become. Katherine Johnson didn’t ask for permission to be brilliant. Dorothy Vaughan didn’t wait for a title to lead. Mary Jackson didn’t accept being boxed in by outdated rules. They all had to fight just to do the work they were already more than capable of doing. And somehow, despite the burden of constantly proving themselves, they didn’t lose their fire. Their story helped me rewrite my own. I started speaking up more in class, even when I was unsure. I applied for leadership positions and interned with nonprofits. I became a captain on my cross-country and track teams. When people underestimated me, I started seeing it as an opportunity. Not necessarily to prove them wrong, but to prove to myself that I could take up space. That I was allowed to take up space. Getting accepted into UC Berkeley, one of the most competitive schools in the country, was a moment that made me stop and think: “I did that.” Not because I followed every rule, but because I stepped into who I was, fully. It was my own “NASA launch moment,” and it felt really, really good. But Hidden Figures didn’t just change how I see my past. It shaped how I’m preparing for the future. I know I’ll face more closed doors. I’ll be underestimated again. I’ll walk into rooms where people don’t expect someone who looks like me to lead or speak or win. But I’ve faced that before, and I’m still here. Like the women in the movie, I’ve learned that confidence isn’t about always feeling sure of yourself. It’s about acting with purpose, even when the world gives you every reason to back down. Their story reminds me that pushing forward isn’t just about personal achievement—it’s about creating space for others to follow. I’m not just one voice, I’m part of a legacy of women who refused to be hidden.

Grumpy and sarcastic, with a dry wit that could level a room, Mr. Glasgow was the first teacher I ever had who didn’t pretend like our country was perfect, or even close. He didn’t sugarcoat the past, didn’t hold back his opinions, and didn’t care whether we liked him for it. But we did. We loved him. And I loved him most of all for teaching me that the point of history isn't memorizing facts. It’s learning how to think. Mr. Glasgow was the first person who ever challenged me to see history not as a collection of events, but as a reflection of who we are and who we choose to be. One day in class, after someone tried to justify slavery as a “product of its time,” he stopped mid-lecture, visibly frustrated. “We should judge history based on the highest moral standards of the time.” I had never seen a teacher get angry like that, and not because he was annoyed, but because he cared. That quote shattered every excuse I’d been taught to accept, and it forced me to reckon with the truth: if there were people back then who knew it was wrong and still chose to fight it, then those who didn’t made a choice, too. That lesson didn’t just change how I saw the past, it changed how I see the present, and my responsibility within it. History had ceased to be a dead book about the past. It became a mirror. Before his class, I thought history was useless. Just a list of things that already happened. But Mr. Glasgow showed me that history is the entire point of education. It’s the record of everything humans have ever tried, failed at, overcome, or destroyed. Every scientific breakthrough, every system of oppression, every act of rebellion. It all comes from what came before. And if we’re not paying attention to that, then what’s the point? Mr. Glasgow’s insistence on thinking critically about governments, about systems, and about ourselves changed me. He didn’t just spark my interest in history; he lit the fire that now drives my future. I want to study sociology and comparative literature to analyze the lives, stories, and ideas of those who came before us, and then use that lens in law and policy. Because if you understand the stories that shape a person, you can understand how to help them. Other students used to laugh when Mr. Glasgow got angry talking about injustice (after all, he got angry about a lot of things. Like soccer. And stupid questions). But I saw something else. I saw someone who believed that the effects of oppression don’t vanish with time; they echo. And that it’s our job to listen. Mr. Glasgow hated sentiment, so he’d probably roll his eyes at this essay. But I know he’d also be proud. Because he taught me to challenge everything. Especially the idea that one person can’t make a difference. Because he did. He made a difference in me.

Education, in its many forms, has always been a cornerstone of my life. It has shaped my character, fueled my curiosity, and given me the tools to contribute meaningfully to my community. Earning straight A’s and 5s on all my AP exams has been rewarding, but what has truly transformed me is how learning has deepened my understanding of people and the world. Knowledge is not just academic success; it’s a tool for personal growth, spiritual development, and creating lasting change. During middle school, especially during the isolation of COVID, I began to see things differently. The pandemic revealed how much our perspectives were shaped by our unique upbringings. Friends I had always considered close suddenly seemed distant, their values and beliefs vastly different from my own. This shift in our social lives made me realize how deeply context and experiences shape who we are, sparking my desire to learn more about the cultural and social forces that influence us. This drive for learning continued to grow throughout high school. I immersed myself in rigorous coursework, pushing myself to excel not just in AP Physics and Calculus, but also in AP History and Language. Each subject deepened my ability to analyze the world from different angles. History taught me the importance of context in understanding human decisions and actions, while physics challenged me to think logically and systematically about the world around me. But even as I mastered these subjects, I knew there was more I needed to learn. Sports, particularly cross-country, became a key avenue for my personal growth. One practice, one of the sophomore girls on our team, who had been struggling with her confidence, pulled me aside. She told me she didn’t feel like she belonged, that she wasn’t improving fast enough. I could see how deeply she was hurting, and it hit me how much pressure we all put on ourselves, even in something that was supposed to be fun. Being the team captain, I knew that she looked up to me. I told her I was proud of her, that she would improve at her own pace, and the team would have her back no matter what. Over the weeks, I saw her confidence grow. Now, I consider her to be one of my closest friends, and my second sister. That moment made me realize how important it is to create space for people to feel like they belong, no matter their starting point. In my church, I also found ways to build relationships and grow spiritually. I took on the role of an older sister to many in the youth group, offering guidance, organizing events, and reconnecting with people after the pandemic had strained our community. This role helped me understand leadership not as a position of authority, but as a service to others—showing up, listening, and supporting those around me. I became someone people could rely on. I became a sister to many, someone who could offer wisdom, encouragement, and a sense of belonging. These experiences have shown me the profound impact of understanding and advocating for others. I’ve come to realize that education and personal growth go hand in hand. My academic achievements have prepared me for higher education, but it’s the relationships I’ve built and the lessons I’ve learned that will guide me. That’s why I want to pursue a career in law, focusing on social service. I want to use my education to advocate for underrepresented communities, to help craft policies that address their needs, and to push for systemic change.