Future Me is a fully-licensed architect and community leader with architectural innovations that entirely shift the structure of cities throughout the United States.

Architecture caught my eyes during my participation in the 2019 Future City competition. Where a group of students that excel in STEM were chosen to compete to build futuristic cities based on prompts. My school took the Future City participants on a field trip to a couple of architecture and engineering firms for help on how to build our city. Looking at the city and building prototypes around their offices was fascinating. Each sector of every building had to be designed to fit perfectly wherever it was built for whatever it was built for. There were intense details put into the structures they showed us. We took what those engineers and architects told us and put as much as we could into our city. I had never noticed how massive every component of a building was until we designed our own. While I was in the essay group rather than the physical city building group or digital design group, where I wanted to be, I loved discussing components throughout the city to resolve problems we have in reality. We put an extreme amount of effort into describing the purpose of every feature. We only got 3rd place at the competition that year but I was proud of our creation. The way each of us worked on one project for months was rewarding. AP Human Geography furthered my curiosity. I was enthralled by the culture-related units as well as the urban land-use unit. We learned about different building types and why different cities were structured the way they were. The differences between architecture in varying cultures and geographic locations intrigued me. I enjoy seeing why certain features are present in one place and not in another for various reasons. All of the mathematical, scientific, geographic, and cultural components that make up the structures we utilize piqued my interest. While it was my most difficult class at the time, these subjects made it the most enjoyable. I still wasn’t set on pursuing architecture until my mom began to talk to me about it. “Do you know how many Black architects there are?” she asked me. I had no idea, so I Googled it. Only 2% of U.S. architects are Black and about 0.4% are Black women! Living in such a diverse area, I forgot about how little my demographic represents in STEM. I thought back to when I helped fundraise for an organization called Dream Culture. It was rare to find any minorities in the high-income neighborhoods I went door-to-door in, let alone Black people. There were also rarely dispensaries, liquor stores, or other predatory businesses around them. As we watched Black neighborhoods be gentrified, those places were replaced with small businesses and Whole Foods Markets. This realization is what concluded that I was going into architecture. Nothing is built for Us; I want to change that. It may have taken literal years but I have finally built my legacy plan. Deciding to go into architecture didn’t entirely determine every single thing that I put on my legacy plan but it’s a pretty big part of it. I am going to represent Black women in the STEM field and build on behalf of our communities. I want to create a strong impact and go into something that will allow me to learn more about the structures around us. I want to collaborate with people to design projects where every feature has a purpose. Pursuing architecture is what my plan is to fulfill those goals.

To me generosity means to conduct any sized gesture to someone else without the intention to get something in return. Someone can do something generous but they aren’t a generous person unless they do it consistently. I always keep that in the back of my mind. My grandma was a very generous woman and, without fail, would do the most to help anyone she could. She would give to the homeless as much as she could, she would watch people’s children while the worked, even put food out for the stray cats in her apartment complex. The one that’s stuck with me the most was her making two whole Thanksgiving dinners because a family in her apartment building didn’t have one. Witnessing my Grandma be who she was gave me hope in humanity and remember that there are good people that don’t do everything to get something in return. I strive to make as much of an impact on other people as she did. If everyone put in at least the smallest amount of effort to make someone else’s day better, the world would shine a lot brighter. It’s nearly impossible for everyone to be generous, but I’ll continue to put in effort to be as much as I can. To use at least a little bit of my time each day on someone else is how I try to reflect my grandmother’s light. Doing volunteering, free tutoring, and helping my neighbors when they need me is how I do that, for now. One day I’ll have the ability to truly be make an even stronger impact in my community.

My favorite movie of all time is Mulan(1998). I watched it a lot as a little kid so nostalgia is a portion of why I love it so much. The soundtrack is iconic and I listen to it regularly, unironically. The comedy in the movie balances out with the seriousness of the movie that kept me interested as a child and still does on my billionth watch. The animation is beautiful too, I especially love the way the movie incorporates the swirlly pattern throughout, like the painting represented in the beginning, smoke, fireworks, the ancestors, the avalanche, etc. And the repetition of reflections like the song at the beginning about Mulan not being able to hide her true self and failing to meet society's expectations. The messaging of the movie has always been something I've loved. Mulan was able to save her people, not because she was just as physically strong as everyone else, which she wasn't, but because she thought outside of the box. She also struggles to conform to society since she doesn't fit what is expected of her. When she left her home, she had no experience with fighting or anything close to that, she was just the average girl that was forgetful and clumsy. Throughout all of it, all Mulan wanted was to bring her family honor, but when she did, she realized her family was already proud of who she had become. I've felt out of place and inadequate for my family before, so I've always felt very connected to the movie. Altogether, Mulan is a masterpiece that I love.

In March of 2018, I was in a car with my two younger brothers and dad when we were T-boned by a drunk driver. Luckily, I was the only one severely impacted; I fractured my pelvic bone and had to use crutches for a couple of months. Looking back on the images of the aftermath, our car being half its original size, it was a miracle that we all survived. The accident changed me mentally. Before, I simply prayed when I felt uneasy and continued, knowing God was on my side. While I was grateful that no one had any permanent damage, I grew paranoid of life. I began to fear people. I knew God protected me, but God also gave people the freedom to do as they please. People had the power to take lives, purposefully and accidentally. It terrified me that even those who worship aren't entirely exempt from feeling the force of the chaos surrounding us. I began to live without trust. I didn't leave my house alone and avoided anything that could be dangerous. I even tried to protect my siblings the same way. The thought of possibly being hurt or watching someone I loved be in pain left me hiding from the world. Fast-forward to 2020, the most hectic time I and many others have experienced. I was feeling overwhelmed by the world and continued to hide from it. I tried to avoid all the riots, police brutality, COVID, elections, etc. It was hard since I am black, and such topics do heavily affect my family. It all made me emotional and irritable. I prayed that my family wouldn't be attacked or infected. At one point, my mom noticed how irrational I had become through the pandemic and gave me a book called "Further Along The Road Less Traveled". One chapter addresses the fear of pain. Reading through it, I realized my problem. Essentially, the author explained that pain is what allows us to grow. That all the pain we feel is the force that keeps people going. The book made me remember that, while every boost we get is from God, but so is every obstacle. God only sends obstacles that he knows we can surpass. Despite how it burns, we have to have faith that we can make it through. Since then, I've felt much freer. I thank God for every issue and amplification I receive for elevating me to reach my full potential. I'm still very cautious, but I now feel much closer to God and know that whatever happens can make me a better person. Jesus has made me strong, and I know he's given me a life that I can use to be great.

I am the oldest of five children. Being the first to go through everything can be difficult. Even being one year older than the secondborn in my family, I feel like I'm hundreds of miles ahead of everyone else. I've been the first to be in school, the first to drive, and now I'll be the first to go to college. While I've had guidance from my parents as I've gone through life so far, neither has gotten to go to college. No one in my family has. So I have to find out how to achieve what I want on my own. I know I can succeed, but it's a lot of pressure. Other than going through life without an older sibling to follow, my main struggle has been my focus on making my family proud of me. From as early as I can remember, I've strived to flourish in every component of life. Being without someone to follow, I felt that it's my duty to be a role model for my siblings. I assumed that if I had good grades, took the most difficult classes, and did everything my parents wanted, then not only would I succeed, but my siblings would be able to do the same. Once I began my freshman year, I began to feel the pressure I put on myself since it grew increasingly difficult to do as well in school as I had done before. On top of that, I stacked college and extra-curricular goals that didn't even suit who I was or what I was good at. My inability to meet the unrealistic expectations I continued to set for myself made me feel inadequate. I became an overly self-conscious perfectionist. A few months ago, I spoke to my mom about my issue. Essentially, she said that each of us has to live for ourselves, and my siblings simply have me for extra guidance. It sounds basic, but this allowed me to think about why I do what I do. I realized that y siblings are their own people and rely on me for advice and support. They follow me because I am successful not because I'm doing what they think I should do. I had forced myself into being the best not for myself, but everyone else. I've done a lot of thinking to understand how and why I going to live the way I will, especially as the first-born. I've felt more liberated since I've realized that my parents don't mind what I do in my life, as long as I put my heart into it. I have come to understand that I'm being a better role model for my siblings if I work on achieving for me rather than for them and my parents. I do occasionally struggle to fully abandon piling up unrealistic goals for myself, but I've been able to handle my failures to meet them much better. When I leave my family to live on my own, I still hope to represent my family by succeeding in college and further along in life.

When the coronavirus was most rampant, and the presidential election was dividing the country, I read Malala Yousafzai's book, "I Am Malala." Malala is a Pakistani activist for female education and grew popular after being shot in the head for speaking out. Reading about her circumstances in her country, even before she was shot, I felt awful. I cried through the entire first half of the book. My mind began to change as she described her confusion towards people that feel as I did. She says “I don't want to be thought of as the 'girl who was shot by the Taliban' but the 'girl who fought for education.' This is the cause to which I want to devote my life”. As I read that, it became clear to me that I am, as well as most other people, a massive pessimist. Going through the pandemic and watching the news, all I felt was sorrow. Every time we feel pain or go through a struggle, we feel bad for ourselves. Even after almost dying, Malala saw what she went through as a blessing, an opportunity. She did not wallow in her pain and feel bad for herself. She used her pain to grow and create a better world. Watching the country go through this pandemic, I can now see that we are only feeling bad for ourselves. I am not discounting the pain pulsing through everyone. We just aren't using it to make ourselves better. We ignore everything going well and sit on our couches feeling down. I realized that people were coming together to help each other financially, emotionally, and socially. Changes are being implemented all over the country. Large and small. In this time especially, we must look at the whole picture and recognize that we can progress. While it is difficult to accept the pain, we have to push through it and use it to our advantage, just as Malala has. After learning about her achievements, I have chosen to follow Malala. I do not necessarily mean activism. I want to be able to use my pain and experiences to help others. I hope to grow stronger by pushing through every struggle I go through with faith I'll come out as a better person. I know now that I can impact the world with what I learn. So I want to bring this knowledge to other people.

Culture has been a crucial part of my upbringing. While I am a black girl, both of my grandmothers are Latinas: one being Puertorican and the other being Mexican. I've grown in a predominantly Mexican community and have gone to schools that reflect it. When I was younger, I grew insecure about my mixedness. In school, I watched as everyone separated into their groups at lunch. Usually, while I didn't notice at first, each was split by gender and race. I tended to float through each group, never being entirely outcast but never really fitting in with any. I was unaware of why until a couple of peers made it clear to me. In 5th grade, after class one day, a couple of girls were selling some candy on some benches outside of our school, which was normal. I usually wouldn't have money but I came prepared with a few dollars that day since they had one of my favorites: Pelon Pelo Rico. I went up to them and said I wanted to buy some candy. To my surprise, they said no. When I asked why they said it was because I wasn't Latina. I was shocked that they would even deny business based on ethnicity, but I was more upset that they didn't believe me when I said I was. The girls believed because I didn't speak Spanish or look like them, that I wasn't like them. When I went home that day, I began to think. I didn't notice until then, I wasn't enough of any one culture to suit any of the groups in the school. I don't speak Spanish or know as much as other kids about my Latin heritage. I was too dark to fit in with the white kids. I'm lighter than the other black kids. I started to believe that I was just a broken piece of each culture. From then throughout middle school, I remained in the same group-floating position. When high school started, I witnessed even greater diversity than before. There were still groups similar to the ones I'd seen before, but there were much fewer. Looking to find clubs, I asked a teacher who suggested I join Black Student Alliance. I didn't because I was sure that it wasn't right since I wasn't black enough. Eventually, I was forced to join by my mom who found out the club existed a few months later. As I walked into the class, hesitantly, I waited to be ridiculed and rejected. It took me ten minutes before I felt comfortable looking around the class. As I did that, I saw that everyone in my class was different. There were dark-skinned black kids, light-skinned black kids, immigrants from multiple countries in Africa and elsewhere, and more. I watched as they laughed and debated and connected, sharing their various backgrounds. At that moment, I recognized how wrong I was. I found that I wasn't broken pieces of the cultures I was born to but a singular blend of them all. I may not perfectly reflect the majority of any particular culture, but I am still within each one. Despite my look, language, or general knowledge of my heritage, I am a proud Black Latina. I know I don't experience everything the average Black or Latin American does, but that doesn't discount what's in my DNA. I stand for both the Black and Latinx communities as I walk through this country.