Some of my earliest memories are at the pool—chlorine in the air, the echo of splashing, the sharp mix of nerves and excitement before a race. Swimming taught me discipline, but more importantly, it taught me about courage. I saw it in the small victories of children I taught to swim—tiny hands gripping the pool wall, eyes wide with fear, until one day they finally let go and floated on their own. That moment, when someone realizes they’re capable of more than they thought, is what drives me. That same spark pushed me beyond the pool deck. In high school, I found myself drawn to leadership, not for the title, but for the chance to create change. I served in student government, captained teams, founded clubs, and led debates—but the work I’m proudest of came from a deeply personal place. For my Girl Scout Gold Award, I launched a menstrual equity program for swimmers. I had seen teammates miss practice or meets because they didn’t have access to period products. It was wrong, and I couldn’t stand by. I partnered with local organizations to provide free products, hosted workshops to break down stigma, and created spaces where athletes could talk openly about their needs without shame. That project changed me. It showed me how something small—a conversation, a resource, an idea—could ripple outward and change lives. It made me realize that inequities don’t exist in isolation. Barriers in health, education, and opportunity often stack against the same communities, and if I wanted to make a difference, I’d have to fight on more than one front. That’s why I dove into advocacy and political organizing. I worked with Democracy Summer and on congressional campaigns, knocking on doors, engaging voters, and learning how grassroots action can shift the direction of a community. I discovered that the skills I’d built—listening, speaking up, finding solutions—could be used to help people not just in the pool, or in my school, but across entire districts. Now, as I prepare to start at the University of Virginia this fall, I’m carrying those lessons with me. I plan to study Government, join mock trial, and continue community advocacy, with my sights set on law school. My dream is to become a civil rights attorney, using the law to open doors for those who’ve been shut out—just like I’ve tried to do in sports and education. I think often about my grandparents, who believed education was both a gift and a responsibility. They taught me that whatever path I take, I should leave it better than I found it. The Doc & Glo Scholarship represents more than financial support—it’s a reminder of the values I live by: resilience, kindness, and self-belief. It’s another step toward my goal of creating a world where every young person has the chance to thrive, no matter where they start.

One of the most urgent and pervasive issues facing the criminal justice system today is the systemic failure to adequately support and protect victims of sexual violence—especially children, women, and other vulnerable populations. These cases are often underreported, mishandled, or deprioritized due to limited resources, a lack of trauma-informed training, and social stigma. Survivors deserve more than just belief—they deserve action, justice, and long-term support. I am committed to addressing this issue by becoming a prosecutor in a Special Victims Unit, working to ensure that every survivor is treated with dignity and every case is pursued with care, competence, and tenacity. My goal is to use the law not only to hold perpetrators accountable but also to reform the prosecutorial system from within. As a future SVU prosecutor, I will advocate for improved trauma-informed training in district attorney offices, stronger collaboration with victim services organizations, and fairer legal outcomes that prioritize the voices of survivors. I believe that justice should be proactive, ethical, and community-centered, and I intend to model that standard throughout my career. My work to prepare for this role is already well underway. This summer, I served as a Democracy Summer Fellow for Congressman Eugene Vindman, supporting Virginia’s 2025 Democratic candidates for Governor, Attorney General, and other statewide offices. Through this fellowship, I’ve engaged deeply in criminal justice policy and seen firsthand how prosecutorial discretion, ethics, and state leadership intersect. I’ve worked on messaging around victim protection laws and participated in grassroots advocacy to help shape a system that reflects the values of fairness and equity. Being in proximity to campaigns that directly affect prosecutorial priorities has only sharpened my resolve to be a prosecutor who leads with integrity. Outside of politics, I’ve long championed equity in access to safety and justice. I am the founder of the Menstrual Equity in Swimming initiative, where I’ve led a statewide push to ensure swimmers are not forced to choose between their health and participation in their sport. This advocacy required legal research, policy writing, and public speaking—skills I will carry with me into my legal career. I learned how to navigate bureaucratic systems, speak truth to power, and advocate for change in environments that were not always welcoming. These lessons mirror the work of an SVU prosecutor: listening, pushing for justice, and staying persistent in the face of resistance. In high school, I also founded my school's Young Democrats chapter, served as Student Government president, and coached young swimmers through my certification as a Water Safety Instructor. In each of these roles, I developed the communication, leadership, and analytical skills required in high-stakes, high-emotion environments. Whether mentoring teammates or organizing community voter registration events, I was always focused on building systems of trust and empowerment—values at the core of any ethical legal career. My resume is filled with public service because public service is how I measure success. It’s how I plan to build my future. Through law school and beyond, I aim to use my voice and my legal training to bring both justice and reform to victims who have been too often ignored. I believe a prosecutor should not only seek convictions but also seek truth and healing, and I am committed to being the kind of prosecutor who listens, learns, and leads with purpose. Receiving the Patrick Roberts Criminal Justice Scholarship would help me continue on this path. Roberts’ career—marked by high ethical standards and a commitment to clients in complex, emotionally charged cases—is one I deeply admire. I, too, want to build a legacy grounded in defense of the vulnerable and in pursuit of justice that makes communities safer, not more divided. This scholarship would not only support my educational journey but also affirm the values I’ve fought to uphold through every campaign, policy, and act of service. I am ready to carry this mission forward into the courtroom—one survivor, one case, and one reform at a time.

I want to build a career that makes survivors feel safe, believed, and empowered—specifically as a prosecutor in a special victims unit. But more than that, I want to help build a justice system that treats survivors with the dignity and humanity they deserve. Too often, victims of sexual assault, domestic violence, and child abuse face a system that retraumatizes them—questioning their stories, delaying their cases, or letting perpetrators go unpunished. I want to be a prosecutor who changes that narrative. My goal is to build a legal career rooted in compassion, truth, and advocacy, working tirelessly to deliver justice while supporting those most affected by crime. This vision began with my love for advocacy in high school. I testified before school boards about the unequal treatment of girls’ swim teams, led campaigns for menstrual equity in athletics, and coached young swimmers as a certified Water Safety Instructor. Each experience taught me how policy, leadership, and empathy intersect. It also showed me that real change happens when someone speaks up for others—and I want to do that on a broader scale. This summer, I’m serving as a Democracy Summer Fellow in the Office of Representative Eugene Vindman (VA-07), helping advance the 2025 statewide Democratic ticket through voter outreach and organizing. I’ve seen how public servants—whether lawmakers or prosecutors—can shape safer communities. That’s the future I want to build. To get there, I plan to major in political science or public policy, attend law school, and specialize in criminal justice and victim advocacy. This path will be challenging, but I’m ready for the work. I’ve already spent years developing the discipline and emotional intelligence needed to lead with integrity. Now, I want to build the expertise and credentials to become the kind of prosecutor who listens as closely as she argues—and who stands firmly for those who feel voiceless. But this isn’t just about my future. Building a career in the SVU world means building trust in the justice system, case by case, person by person. It means strengthening my community through accountability and care. When victims feel protected and perpetrators are held responsible, communities grow safer and more resilient. So I want to build a legacy of service, justice, and impact—one survivor, one case, and one community at a time.

From the moment I watched my first episode of Law and Order: SVU, I knew I wanted to pursue a career where justice was more than a concept—it was a mission. What started as interest became purpose as I learned more about the real-world role of special victims unit prosecutors. These public servants fight for survivors of the most intimate and devastating crimes—often when those survivors feel unheard. I aspire to become one of them. Throughout high school, I’ve combined advocacy, leadership, and public service in ways that reflect my commitment to justice. I’ve served as a swim coach and certified Water Safety Instructor, empowering young athletes to feel safe and confident in and out of the water. I’ve organized campaigns for menstrual equity, testified before school boards, and launched student organizations to address systemic disparities. My experiences have taught me that real justice isn’t just found in courtrooms—it starts in communities. This summer, I was honored to be selected as a Democracy Summer Fellow, where I work in the Office of Representative Eugene Vindman (VA-07). I support the 2025 statewide Democratic ticket through grassroots organizing, learning firsthand how public servants can shape policy that protects vulnerable populations. Through this work, I’ve seen that justice requires not only legal action but also legislative change, and that both begin with dedicated individuals willing to listen, learn, and lead. My long-term goal is to serve as a prosecutor in a special victims unit at the federal, state, or local level. I plan to major in political science or public policy and then attend law school, focusing on criminal justice and victim advocacy. I want to specialize in cases involving sexual assault, domestic violence, and child abuse—not because they are easy, but because they are necessary. Too often, survivors face stigma, disbelief, or indifference. I want to be the kind of prosecutor who restores faith in the justice system and centers the voices of those most affected. This scholarship would allow me to continue on that path without financial burden holding me back. It would enable me to take on internships, attend public interest law conferences, and invest in my education with full commitment. Most importantly, it would affirm that my dream—to become a public servant in the most human sense of the word—is both possible and needed. Working in a special victims unit requires emotional resilience, legal skill, and deep compassion. I’ve spent my teenage years developing those traits through leadership, service, and relentless advocacy. I know that public service won’t always be easy, but it will always be worth it—because every survivor deserves someone in their corner. By supporting me, you're helping shape a future where justice isn’t just delivered—it’s deeply personal. I’m ready to do the work. I just need the opportunity.

My name is Annabelle Bragdon, and I’m an incoming undergraduate student dedicated to building a life of purpose, service, and impact. Like Kalia D. Davis, I have always believed that excellence is not just about achievement—it's about intention, integrity, and lifting others as you climb. Swimming has been my sport, my discipline, and my foundation. I’ve competed for years and gone on to become a certified Water Safety Instructor and swim coach, working with younger swimmers to build both their skills and confidence. But for a long time, swimming also tested my self-esteem. The sport forces you to confront your body and your inner critic—and I struggled with body image and comparison. It took years of patience, resilience, and mentoring others to finally see myself not just as a swimmer, but as someone strong, capable, and whole. That journey has informed everything I do, especially my commitment to empowering girls and marginalized communities. Service has been the through-line of my life. I founded an initiative to promote menstrual equity in aquatic sports—distributing supplies, running drives, and educating others about the barriers girls face in accessing something as basic as a pool or a lifeguarding job. I’ve served in student government, led Girl Scouts projects, and taken on local and national leadership roles through programs like Democracy Summer, where I supported the Virginia 2025 Democratic ticket through direct voter outreach. Currently, I serve as a fellow in the office of Rep. Eugene Vindman (VA-07), where I combine my passion for civic engagement with real-world experience in grassroots organizing. But beyond the resume lines and titles, I pride myself on being someone others can count on. I bring energy to the room, not just effort. Whether I’m canvassing a neighborhood, coaching a swim practice, or leading a student meeting, I try to show up with warmth, humility, and a sense of humor. Like Kalia, I value the balance between working hard and living fully—laughing with teammates, dancing through stress, and finding beauty in the everyday. This scholarship would not only support me financially as I begin college but would also carry deep personal meaning. Kalia’s story reminds me of the urgency of living with intention. Life is short, and I want to make every moment matter—not just for myself, but for others. I plan to pursue a career in law and policy, with a focus on gender equity, public service, and youth empowerment. Every scholarship I receive brings me one step closer to that goal and to the legacy I hope to leave behind. To live, to love, to laugh, and to learn—that is the path I’m on. And with your support, I will continue walking it with determination, compassion, and joy. I hope to honor Kalia D. Davis not just in words, but in action—through a life well-lived, in service of others.

At first, swimming was simply where I felt free—weightless, buoyant, and quiet. But as I grew older, that same water started to reflect more than just my stroke technique. It began to reflect my insecurities: about my body, my place as a girl in sports, and how I measured up—not just against a clock, but against impossible standards I didn’t know I was internalizing. Swimming, by its nature, leaves little room to hide. Tight suits, bare skin, and public competition made me hyper-aware of my body from a young age. As a teen, I watched girls I trained with quit the sport, not because they lacked passion, but because they felt uncomfortable in their own skin. I almost became one of them. There were days I stood on the edge of the pool, wishing I could shrink—into my towel, into myself—because I didn’t think I looked like a “real” athlete. But something kept pulling me back to the water. I started to find strength in consistency. I learned that power didn’t come from how I looked in a swimsuit but from what my body could do in one. I stopped seeing my broad shoulders or muscular legs as something to shrink. I started seeing them as tools—strong, resilient, and mine. Swimming taught me that discipline and joy could coexist, and that confidence wasn’t something that arrived overnight, but something you earned lap by lap. As I gained confidence, I began to coach others, especially younger girls, many of whom voiced the same worries I once had. I made it my mission to create a safer, more supportive environment in and around the pool. Becoming a certified Water Safety Instructor wasn’t just about teaching technique—it was about building self-esteem. I made a point to celebrate effort over appearance, progress over perfection. I wanted every swimmer to know their worth wasn’t tied to how they looked in a cap and goggles. Eventually, I turned that mission into advocacy. I launched a nonprofit initiative focused on menstrual equity in aquatic sports, distributing supplies and educating teams and coaches about the challenges girls face when managing menstruation in a sport so closely tied to body exposure and vulnerability. This wasn’t just about products—it was about dignity, comfort, and belonging. I knew firsthand what it felt like to be excluded by silence or shame, and I was determined to change that. Swimming has shaped me into someone who leads with empathy and strength. It gave me the discipline to excel in school, the resilience to take on civic leadership, and the clarity to use my voice for others who might still be struggling with self-doubt. Whether I’m coaching a swimmer through their first lap or organizing a community drive for menstrual products, I carry the lessons the pool gave me. I still battle insecurities from time to time—but now I swim through them. And each time I do, I remember just how far I’ve come, and how many others I hope to bring with me.

Competitive swimming has shaped nearly every part of who I am—my discipline, leadership, and unshakable sense of self in a world that often expects women to shrink. As a female swimmer, coach, and student leader, I’ve spent years navigating the physical and mental demands of sport while balancing academics, advocacy, and life. That balance has been my training ground—not just for races in the pool, but for the broader, more enduring race for equity in a male-dominated world. Swimming is a sport that demands consistency, early mornings, and split-second decisions. From a young age, I learned how to juggle 5 a.m. practices with AP coursework, leadership roles, and community organizing. I wasn’t just training to beat the clock—I was training to manage time, to fight burnout, to speak up for myself when I was the only girl in the room, and to support others who were being silenced. That kind of endurance isn’t recorded on a stopwatch—but it has shaped the kind of woman I am becoming. As I progressed from athlete to coach and certified Water Safety Instructor, I found myself in more and more leadership roles—often in spaces where male voices were louder or assumed to be more credible. But I pushed back. I coached with clarity, spoke with confidence, and led with empathy. Whether teaching toddlers their first strokes or managing a swim team’s training plan, I learned how to own my authority without apology. Coaching taught me how to lead through action and precision—and how to model strength for younger girls still finding their voices. Yet my strength wasn’t only forged on the pool deck. It showed up in my advocacy. When I realized menstruation kept girls out of the water due to lack of access and stigma, I launched a campaign for menstrual equity. I led a walkout at my school, spoke at school board meetings, and founded a student wellness organization focused on body autonomy. I wanted girls to know they didn’t have to choose between their sport and their bodies. This activism came from my experience as a swimmer, but also from the lessons swimming had taught me: that perseverance, courage, and preparation are powerful tools for change. Being a female athlete means more than just competing—it means reclaiming space. It means learning to thrive under pressure, to navigate expectations, and to speak up in rooms where you may not be expected to lead. Sports gave me the platform to grow physically, emotionally, and politically. They gave me the resilience to challenge systems and the confidence to build new ones. In a world that often undervalues young women’s strength, swimming has helped me define mine. Not just by training my muscles, but by sharpening my voice. I am no longer just swimming through lanes—I am cutting through barriers, and bringing others with me.

From leading a student walkout for menstrual equity to campaigning for down-ballot races in the 2025 Virginia statewide elections, I have consistently sought to engage with the democratic process and empower others to do the same. My interest in legislative and policy-related work stems from a deep belief that the decisions made in government—especially at the local and state level—are not abstract. They shape our lives. I aspire to serve in state government, where the work is close to communities and where laws can be crafted to directly address issues like educational equity, public health access, and youth engagement. One policy issue I care deeply about is menstrual equity. As a competitive swimmer and water safety instructor, I’ve witnessed firsthand how lack of access to menstrual products can prevent students—especially girls—from participating in sports and education fully. This inspired me to help organize a student-led walkout and awareness campaign at my school, pushing for free and accessible products in all bathrooms, including locker rooms. I also founded a student-run organization focused on wellness and body autonomy, leading conversations, presentations, and district-wide advocacy. This experience taught me how policy isn’t just crafted in chambers—it begins in the stories and voices of the people most affected. Currently, I am a Fellow for Representative Eugene Vindman through Democracy Summer, a nationally recognized civic engagement program led by Rep. Jamie Raskin. In this role, I conduct direct voter outreach to support Virginia’s 2025 Democratic statewide candidates, including for governor and attorney general. This experience has exposed me to how policy and electoral politics are interwoven, and how essential it is to engage voters in civil, informed discourse. I’ve phonebanked, textbanked, and canvassed across diverse communities in Virginia’s 7th District, learning to listen first, speak with respect, and focus on issues that matter to constituents—whether that’s healthcare, reproductive rights, or public safety. Civil discourse is the backbone of policy-making in a pluralistic society. While it's tempting in today’s polarized climate to speak over one another, I’ve learned that meaningful policy begins with listening. Whether moderating a student debate or speaking with a voter who disagrees with me, I strive to create spaces where everyone feels heard. My leadership roles—in student government, the Girl Scouts, and grassroots coalitions—have all been rooted in this philosophy. It’s not enough to have a voice; others must be invited to use theirs too. In college and beyond, I hope to combine grassroots advocacy with formal policymaking. I plan to study public policy, government, and law, with the goal of returning to my home state of Virginia as a legislative advocate or state legislator. I am committed to uplifting community-driven solutions, especially for young people and historically underrepresented groups. Policy is not a distant institution—it’s a tool. And I plan to wield it to build a more equitable, accessible, and engaged democracy.

“Decisions are made by those who show up.” When fictional President Josiah Bartlet in The West Wing said this, I was changed. He inspired me to stop complaining about decisions being made for me and to actually show up to take part in decision-making. Taking his advice, for the last four years I have served as liaison to my high school’s Parent Teacher Student Organization (PTSO), and now I serve as representative for my school’s 3,000 students to our county’s novel student senate, where I have worked on one-of-the-first-ever Student Bill of Rights written by students. This year, I was selected to be one of two students at my high school to sit on Prince William County’s Student Senate. In this job, I represent my school to the county and provide feedback on proposed initiatives, but more importantly, I am connecting with “my constituents” by spearheading our inaugural Student Voice Committee (SVC)–an organization that focuses on including all students in decisions made by the county. One example of my role as SVC President is how I facilitated discussions about the new Virginia school cell phone policy, collected students’ concerns, and presented these to our School Board to influence how PWCS will enact the policy. These organizations have taught me that I can make a difference in my community. I’ve planned donation drives that donated over 300 feminine products to our school nurse (two years in a row), ensuring that everyone in our community who needs them has access. In these positions, I’ve refined my problem solving skills; when students come to me with a problem, they want it to be solved. I practiced listening to my peers in our town-hall forums; when students talk about issues—like Virginia’s cell-phone ban—at our school and in our county, they deserve to be heard by those who can help. Instead of complaining about these decisions being made for me, I showed up to make a difference. As I go into my college and law school careers, I will continue pursuing opportunities to better my community—my biggest goal in life. When I think about what I want to be remembered for after I pass, it’s always making my community and the lives of those in my community better. I’ve taken President Bartlet’s words to heart, and will continue to be there when my community is in need. Decisions are made by those who show up - so whenever and wherever decisions are being made, I will show up.

“Decisions are made by those who show up.” When fictional President Josiah Bartlet in The West Wing said this, I was changed. He inspired me to stop complaining about decisions being made for me and to actually show up to take part in decision-making. Taking his advice, for the last four years I have served as liaison to my high school’s Parent Teacher Student Organization (PTSO), and now I serve as representative for my school’s 3,000 students to our county’s novel student senate, where I have worked on one-of-the-first-ever Student Bill of Rights written by students. This year, I was selected to be one of two students at my high school to sit on Prince William County’s Student Senate. In this job, I represent my school to the county and provide feedback on proposed initiatives, but more importantly, I am connecting with “my constituents” by spearheading our inaugural Student Voice Committee (SVC)–an organization that focuses on including all students in decisions made by the county. One example of my role as SVC President is how I facilitated discussions about the new Virginia school cell phone policy, collected students’ concerns, and presented these to our School Board to influence how PWCS will enact the policy. These organizations have taught me that I can make a difference in my community. I’ve planned donation drives that donated over 300 feminine products to our school nurse (two years in a row), ensuring that everyone in our community who needs them has access. In these positions, I’ve refined my problem solving skills; when students come to me with a problem, they want it to be solved. I practiced listening to my peers in our town-hall forums; when students talk about issues—like Virginia’s cell-phone ban—at our school and in our county, they deserve to be heard by those who can help. Instead of complaining about these decisions being made for me, I showed up to make a difference. As I go into my college and law school careers, I will continue pursuing opportunities to better my community—my biggest goal in life. When I think about what I want to be remembered for after I pass, it’s always making my community and the lives of those in my community better. I’ve taken President Bartlet’s words to heart, and will continue to be there when my community is in need. Decisions are made by those who show up - so whenever and wherever decisions are being made, I will show up.

My 8th grade year was 100% on Zoom. During the algebra one class I took, I chose to play games on my computer or read a book rather than learn. But, I still earned an A in the course - but I knew that I would have to work harder the next year during my in-person freshman year of high school in geometry. Going from virtual to in-person learning, I would not have friends in my high school. And finding a community at my arts-program high school was plaguing my 14-year-old self. If I didn’t participate in musical theater, creative writing, or choir how would I find my people? The answer was simpler, and nothing like what I thought - mathematics. Throughout elementary and middle school, I had always enjoyed math for how uncomplicated it was. Unlike history or english, math always has a definitive answer and a reason for that answer. If I did not answer a question correctly, it was not because I did not go in-depth enough or my grammar. Being incorrect in math was easily fixable with practice. This is what I wanted in a high school friend group. And I found those people in my math honor society in high school. Every morning we would meet up in a math classroom to tutor students in algebra, geometry, statistics, and calculus. It was mornings like these where I found my friends - spending hours pouring over our math homework together and hours helping peers understand the math that we enjoyed. After a whole year of tutoring almost every morning, I am proud to say that I completed the most hours of my honor society - over 50 hours! I found my community in high school in our love of mathematics. The uncomplicatedness of math had brought us together in an uncomplicated friendship that could withstand anything with a bit of practice - just like math does.

The scariest day of my life: 2021. A Monday night - before dinner, after virtual school. My parents sat my brother and I down at our kitchen table to tell us that my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. My brother sat there with a blank stare. I cried. I already knew. I had a feeling that something was wrong, my parents were whispering in their room and stopping the conversation after I entered the room. As a 14-year-old kid would do, I went snooping in my mom’s office; and I found paperwork from a mammogram on my mom’s desk. But that did not change what I felt at that moment. It became real, that my mom had cancer. MY mom. My whole life was collapsing in on itself in a single moment. I was hearing my dad tell me “they caught it early” and “it’s nothing to worry about,” but that did not stop my head from spiraling through the possibilities - what if she dies? Questions like that are one that no newly-14-year-old should be asking herself. And yet, I found myself lying awake at night. I found myself unable to sleep through a full night - until my life changed for the second time; when my parents told me that my mom was in remission and cancer free. That moment of relief that I felt is something that I have been chasing for others ever since, and one that I hope to continue. In October 2023, I planned the first annual Swim Against Breast Cancer. I found my brain burdened with this idea in early September, and I knew that I could not rest until this event was carried out. So I got to work. I immediately emailed my local community pool, asking for lane space on any possible weekend in October. I asked for donations from a local shirt-making shop for pink completion shirts. I reached out to everyone I know, hoping that they could donate and swim at the event. I solicited local grocery stores for food and water donations, to feed every volunteer and swimmers and donator who contributed to this dream. And come the middle of October, this dream had become a reality. I chose to send all of our $1,700.00 donations to the Virginia Breast Cancer Foundation, where they work at a local level funding breast cancer research and treatments for women in-need of help. In turn, they sent us resource materials like How-To Guides for a self-breast exam that we could spread around our community to help women find breast cancer before it became too late. They sent us resource materials like treatment organizations and funds to help women get help once diagnosed. It is these resources that reminded me of WHY my mom is still here - she had access to mammograms and excellent treatment. And I want that access for others, so that no one has to lose someone they love. In my future, I plan to continue this philanthropy. Swim Against Breast Cancer will continue in 2024 and beyond. I hope to double-major in public policy and public health, a cross-section where I can continue helping others get medical treatment through legislation. My dream is that no one else ever has to repeat the scariest day of my life. And this is a dream that I will work effortlessly to achieve.

I was born in Woodbridge, Virginia to two Virginia transplants who moved here to work for the government. My dad was born in western Maine, son of a former navy IT worker father and volunteer firefighter and a nurse/librarian mother. My mom was born in suburban Connecticut, daughter of a former air force police officer father who ran his own lawn-mowing business and a stay-at-home mom. This is where my story starts: parents who instilled their own parents’ values into their children.The most prevalent trait that my parents have given me is the importance of public service. Volunteering to be my Girl Scout Troop leader so I can be in Girl Scouts? An easy yes. Chaperoning my field trips? Absolutely. Judging my debate competitions so we can bring as many kids as possible? Without hesitation. I cannot imagine my life without my parents volunteering for the things that I’m part of - it’s what has made me do the same. I earned my Girl Scout Silver Trefoil and Gold Awards, completing over 200 hours of service at a variety of events covering topics such as energy conservation, outdoor learning, and menstrual health education. I am the vice president of my school’s debate team and Young Democrats chapter, captain of Congressional Debate, treasurer for Model UN, website and social media chair for the National Social Studies honor society, and am in the process of starting a Taylor Swift club. I have coached on my summer swim team for over three years, and have run the program that connects older and younger swimmers, the Breaker Buddies, for two. I do all of this because this is how I’ve been raised; my parents and grandparents have instilled that into my DNA. I decided to run for Parent Teacher Student Organization (PTSO) student representative two years ago because I realized that, as a student, I could impact my high school’s whole community. Since then I have assisted in planning a school dance and prepared a menstruation product collection drive for our school nurse’s office. My job is connecting with over 6,000 students and parents who care deeply about this school, and I love it. During the 2023 election cycle in Virgina, I volunteered to work as an election page for Prince William County. I worked from five in the morning to one in the afternoon greeting voters, handing out stickers, and learning about elections. During this eight-hour shift, I learned more about elections than any school has ever taught me. I learned about provisional ballots, forms of voter ID, election technology, cases of past voter fraud, and so much more. My background, from genetics to Girl Scouts to volunteering, has only made me realize how much I love helping my community. I plan to positively impact my community by continuing what I am already doing in my community, and improving through higher education. I hope to one day become a Congresswoman and help my community at the federal level by introducing legislation that improves the lives of my constituents. I want to continue projects that I have started as a teenager, like my Girl Scout Girl Award, which focused on educating swimmers about periods and how to manage them. I want to continue building outdoor classrooms around the DMV area for students to learn and connect in nature. I want to continue organizing programs for swimmers to mentor younger swimmers throughout their swimming career. I plan to positively impact my community by continuing these things.

The lyric, "'Cause baby I could build a castle out of all the bricks you threw at me" in New Romantics describes my friendships. This is why New Romantics has always been my favorite song on the Taylor Swift album 1989 - because it describes a feeling that I know all too well. I have always had bad luck when it comes to friends, but recently it has gotten to the point where I feel like I am always being thrown bricks. The earliest memory I have of being beaten down is on the elementary school playground, where I had never felt accepted by the other kids. I always felt that I was just another person there, with no real connections to anyone else. That I was just an annoying girl that bothered them, not someone they enjoyed being around. I felt left out of the groups, and that I was intruding on other people's happiness by just being there. To this day, I am still being beaten down by this feeling of no one ever wanting to be my friend. Last summer, my summer swim friend group started doing activities without me. They planned a mall trip, and I only found out because they mistakenly texted about in it the group chat that I was in. I was devasted, I only had a small number of friends and couldn't understand why these girls had started to dislike me so much. At our end-of-season awards ceremony a month later, the girls had gotten a photo together - it wasn't until I saw the 2022 picture and the 2021 picture posted on social media side by side, that I noticed one difference between them. I was missing from that year's photo. But it was the end of the season, and I was going back to school. Recently, I got hired as a coach for my summer swim, and all my friends did as well! But when we had our open house for the swimmers, I thought that everything was going well because everyone was being friendly. I thought that maybe we could put it behind us and things would be different this summer, that I would be included. Spoiler - I was wrong. I check my social media the next day to find a picture of all the coaches at the open house, but not me. I have felt so beaten down by this - these girls that I have known for almost a decade were excluding me, again. This is why New Romantics is my favorite song on the 1989 album. Because this song has described my friendships since it was released in 2014. I feel constantly beaten down by others when they exclude me from activities, but I have been taking these feelings and turning them into something positive. I've decided that I will be taking these bricks and turning them into a castle. This summer, instead of being mad about something that I cannot control - I will use this energy and become the best person I can be. I will put my effort into my coaching job, the physics and Spanish 4 classes that I will be taking, exercising, reading, and more. Instead of focusing on the bricks being thrown at me - I will focus on building a castle out of them.