“Something happened to Grand-Pa, we don’t know what, but you need to go home.” These words still repeat over and over again in my mind. My parents rushed to the scene while my brother and I sat in silence for the entire ride home, nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and the occasional hushed sniffle. When we arrived home, I walked aimlessly, hoping for the best, but assuming the worst. Around five o’clock, my mom finally returned to explain what I knew deep down all along: “Your grandfather died,” she said. It wasn’t until the following morning that I learned the full story. I walked outside with my family and sat in the rocking chair, peering out at the trees as they swayed in the breeze. The sunlight shone through the foliage, as I listened to the chirping birds. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve called it a perfect day. Finally, my mother spoke: “Grand-Pa took his own life yesterday.” My heart sank. Their voices faded into the background, forming a muffled chatter. The emptiness was palpable, like a black hole collapsing in on itself. Throughout high school, I’ve been involved in activism, and my grandfather’s passing inspired me to continue his story through the advocacy of mental health. Besides sharing resources from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention with my peers, I have contacted my senators regarding nine pieces of mental health-related legislation, all of which I’m proud to say have passed through the House of Representatives and presently await action from the Senate. One bill, The Suicide Prevention Act, was sponsored by Rhode Island Senator Jack Reed. In my correspondence with Senator Reed, I emphasized the importance of suicide prevention, sentiments he touched upon in his introductory statements on the bill. Before Congress, Reed explained how the United States “must renew our attention and focus on suicide prevention.” In the future, I plan to continue such political advocacy by developing mental health outlets and resources in my high school, college campus, and beyond.

Like any teenage girl in the twenty first century, I've always struggled with self-love. Growing up in the age of social media, it's nearly impossible not to compare yourself to others, whether it be your closest friends or the countless models promoting unhealthy diet culture. For me, there were two big steps in learning to love and accept myself. Before starting to accept myself, I began to look at the world with the floating rock mentality. When I would start to feel insecure or inferior, I would remind myself that we are all just a cluster of cells, living on a floating rock, in a vast endless void of who knows what - so why should it matter if my teeth aren't perfectly square, or if my skin is breaking out? We are all just trying to live our lives, so why waste time worrying about subtle imperfections, especially when they are often the features that make us the most unique? Once I began to accept myself, I could learn to truly love myself. This began when I acknowledged the fact that my body works day and night, 24/7, just to keep me alive. It does everything in its power to make sure I wake up every morning and go to bed every night, so it really isn't fair for me to be so critical of it. With this, I began to properly take care of myself. I began drinking lots of water, eating balanced meals, staying active, and trying to get a good night's sleep, while still allowing myself to enjoy lazy days and sugary treats. The most important part of all of this is that I take care of myself because I love my body, not because I hate it. When we look at healthy lifestyles from a point of self-hatred and trying to change ourselves, we will never be satisfied with the results. However, when we look at it knowing that we already love our bodies the way they are, and are simply trying to keep them safe and healthy, our efforts will be rewarded. My journey with self love is not over yet, and quite frankly, I'm not sure it ever will be. I'll always have days when I just don't feel great, and that's okay too. We don't have to feel happy and confident all of the time in order to love ourselves - it's how we treat ourselves on those bad days that makes all the difference. Am I getting frustrated with myself for not being as productive as I could be and not looking the way I want to? Or am I listening to my mind and body and taking care of what I need - even if it means a lazy self-care day. I don't always feel perfect, because I'm not, but I know that my body is doing everything that it needs to be doing, and that's good enough for me.

At the start of my sophomore year of high school, I was presented with the opportunity to work with Planned Parenthood in a volunteer-based youth empowerment group. This organization, called Planned Parenthood Youth Empowerment (PPYE), met bi-weekly to discuss current events in social justice. Through PPYE, I learned about canvassing, phone-banking, protesting, legislation, voting, and more. After a long, difficult year of triumphs and setbacks, we were able to work with other local groups to pass the Reproductive Privacy Act in June of 2019. This bill ensures that women in Rhode Island will have the right to access a safe and legal abortion. When I heard the news, I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. Unfortunately, the voices and opinions of young people, especially women, are often overlooked by people in power when making significant decisions. This experience proved to me that I’m capable of making a substantial impact in the world, regardless of my age. Later that Spring, another member of PPYE and I co-founded a local chapter at our high school, called South Kingstown Youth Empowerment. This is a similar club that meets once a week to discuss issues similar to PPYE. In our first year, we focused on one main project. This was a menstrual care drive for a local women’s shelter. We collected products in the school, along with holding a bake sale as a fundraiser. We worked with the high school’s kitchen staff to bake cookies to sell at lunches and packaged cookies by the dozen to sell to faculty and staff. In just one day, we were able to raise over one hundred and fifty dollars. This money was able to purchase a shopping cart overflowing with menstrual care products that changed the lives of local women in need. With the help of scholarship money, I will attend a four-year university to earn a degree in political science. With this degree, I hope to use my knowledge of legislation and the government to make systemic changes. Apart from reproductive rights, another subject that I'm passionate about is the advocacy of mental health. After losing my grandfather to suicide in June of 2019, I began focusing on suicide prevention. I frequently contact my representatives, particularly in the United States Senate about mental health-related legislation that I support, all of which have passed through the House of Representatives and presently await further action from the Senate. In the future, instead of supporting legislation from afar, I hope to be in the room where it happens, writing and working on legislation myself. I had always known that I wanted a future bigger than myself, where I could focus on helping others. These experiences solidified that goal. They opened my eyes to the world of politics, which I plan to pursue a career in. I hope to use my voice to make a tangible difference in the world, and open doors for other young women like myself around the globe. Our voices are our most powerful assets, and I plan to use mine to create positive change in my community, college campus, and beyond.

Ding! As I put on my seatbelt, my phone sounds with a notification. I check my email, expecting the usual spam, when I see it: United States Senate, Sheldon Whitehouse. A few weeks prior I had contacted Senator Whitehouse about some critical mental health legislation but wasn’t expecting a response, considering the present political climate. I sit for a moment, as the autumn leaves drop from the maple tree above my driveway, and open his message. “Dear Ms. Perrin: Thank you for contacting me with your support for mental and behavioral health programs during the COVID-19 pandemic. I appreciate hearing from you and share your concerns…” As I read the letter, my thoughts drift to a time just one year earlier. ~ “Something happened to Grand-Pa, we don’t know what, but you need to go home.” These words still repeat over and over again in my mind. My parents rushed to the scene while my brother and I sat in silence for the entire forty-five-minute car ride home, nothing but the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the occasional hushed sniffle. When we arrived home, I walked aimlessly, hoping for the best, but assuming the worst. Around five o’clock, my mom finally returned to explain what I knew deep down all along: “Your grandfather died,” she said. It wasn’t until the following morning that I learned the full story. I walked outside with my family and sat in the wooden rocking chair, peering out at the trees as they swayed in the breeze. The sunlight shone through the foliage, as I listened to the singsong of chirping birds in the distance. If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve called it a perfect day. Finally, my mother spoke: “Grand-Pa took his own life yesterday.” My heart sank. Their voices faded into the background, forming a muffled chatter. The emptiness was palpable, like a black hole collapsing in on itself. Before his passing, my grandfather constructed a miniature beach-stone wall, hand-crafted from rocks he had collected over time. I’ve come to realize that he was a lot like this wall. He was a rock for his entire family, whether it be supporting us at every basketball game and track meet, or building Hello Kitty puzzles on the living room floor. I later learned that he built many walls throughout his life, most of which couldn’t be seen: walls with love to protect his family and walls around himself--both impenetrable like stone. There were emotions he just couldn’t share. And as I learned, rocks don’t bend--they break. I think my grandfather was afraid to let anyone see him broken. Throughout high school, I’ve been involved in activism, and my grandfather’s passing inspired me to continue his story through the advocacy of mental health. Besides sharing resources from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention with my peers, I have contacted my senators regarding nine pieces of mental health-related legislation, all of which I’m proud to say have passed through the House of Representatives and presently await action from the Senate. One bill, The Suicide Prevention Act, was sponsored by Rhode Island Senator Jack Reed. In my correspondence with Senator Reed, I emphasized the importance of suicide prevention, sentiments he touched upon in his introductory statements on the bill. Before Congress, Reed explained how the United States “must renew our attention and focus on suicide prevention.” In the future, I plan to continue such political advocacy by developing mental health outlets and resources in my high school, college campus, and beyond. ~ After closing Senator Whitehouse’s email, I sigh in relief, thrilled with his support. I turn off my phone and notice a golden-brown leaf falling delicately onto my windshield. A smile spreads across my face as I feel sunlight shining through my open window. I glance up to the sky and see the clouds pass by overhead. My grandfather was always one with nature, and at this moment I know he’s watching over me with pride.