Ever since I can remember, Baltimore City was the epicenter of issues in Maryland. Crime and disunity “havocked the city”, as I often read in the newspaper. Going into high school, I decided to spend time researching the issue- dedicating projects and papers trying to better understand the situation Baltimoreans were facing. However, everything I was seeing in the news and reading about in papers was rooted in one underlying cause: inequity. Specifically, educational inequity. I was in a position of privilege. Rather than living through the cycles, witnessing what was going on with my own eyes and ears, I was reading about it on my father’s computer in the luxury of my own home. Blood boiling, I came up with a plan. I worked with peers in my classes, reached out to schools in Baltimore, and created a pitch for our principal. Just two weeks later, we all stood shoulder to shoulder as a united front, at our school’s administrative office. Our idea: Backpacks for Baltimore. An organization that would work towards raising money and purchasing school supplies for students from low-income households in Baltimore City. A direct attack on the inequitable barriers that came between these students and their education. We understood that this would not solve every problem but it would benefit the community. A community that gave us a plethora of opportunities and successes. Our first year, we had about half a dozen student volunteers supporting us. At every school fair, community auction, or PTA night- there was a white folding table with Backpacks for Baltimore leaders sharing our cause and collecting donations along the way. We held spirit nights, sold candy grams, and used the powerful tool of communication to gain support. That year, we stuffed 54 backpacks with every school supply a child would need, along with encouraging notes, homemade bookmarks, and lunch allowances. Each bag, hand delivered to title-1 elementary school students in the city. Our second year, we used the COVID-19 pandemic to our advantage. Creating virtual fundraisers and connecting with community partners. A year of loss (what some were calling it) became a year of blossoming success for this organization. With over 85 student volunteers, Backpacks for Baltimore was able to support hundreds of students in Baltimore City. We worked together to accomplish the unimaginable in the midst of a pandemic. In the end, every second of effort was worth it to see the smiles on the children's’ faces. Virtual meetings, socially distanced collections, and remote advocacy were no match for passion, determination, and hope. I have been blessed to witness these three traits in action. Traits that I could have only discovered in myself through service to my community. In college, I hope to pursue a career in political science and international diplomacy with a minor concentration in peace studies. I hope to attend law or alternative graduate school to further my education. I hope to someday work for my nation in the name of peace for the United State Department of Defense or Justice as a Public Defender. As a high schooler with a part time job educating young kids, I have felt the uncertainty of the pandemic. At times I could not work or did not have the means to make money. I want to be able to live in a world where educators can teach without worrying about their pay, and kids can learn to their heart's desire. This scholarship would ease my financial burden by allowing me to cover the cost of tuition in college and truly allow me to learn without barriers.

As long as I can remember, my life revolved around my Islamic-Middle Eastern upbringing. More often than not, I would come into preschool with a colorful Hijab draped across my head- testing it out for when I would be old enough to wear one just like my mother. I never left home without my grandmother's evil eye charm tucked in my pocket. In fact, I did not speak proper English before elementary school. The only languages I ever knew were Urdu and Arabic. Regardless, enormous pride flowed through my veins. I brought all sorts of “foreign” artifacts into the basement of the YMCA, which we called pre-school, presenting them like trophies. From the detachable bidet that was in the bathroom to the elaborate prayer rugs in our apartment; each with their own unique importance. The best part of it? The children around me cared. I had Latino friends who would bring spicy arepas to class, African peers who snuck their fathers’ Ngonis in to play, and those who did have international backgrounds (or immigrant parents) would join in with a smile. So, when my father received a full-time job in Annapolis, Maryland- I was hopeful. This was a chance to learn about the world beyond my preschool walls. After enrolling at the local elementary school, I noticed the offset demeanor of the children around me. The inviting smiles I was used to were replaced with pursed lips. Actions I would not have thought twice about- saying "Salam" to the Muslim janitor or attending English as a Second Language (ESOL) lessons -fueled the divergence. Subtle jabs, hushed snickers, and glaring eyes were a reaction of fear and misunderstanding. A post 9/11 reflex. To these children brown skin, Arabic, and Islam all signaled one thing: a threat. I was a contradiction in this world of heteronormativity. A paradox. Years later, I sat in my sixth grade social studies classroom and flipped the brand new textbook open to see a girl with deep caramel skin carrying a beaded dholak (traditional Pakistani drum) staring back at me. My teacher explained how revisions to the history curriculum were made to reflect different cultures across the planet. To encourage diversity and inclusivity. With this new and reflective curriculum I noticed the students around me grow aware, asking genuine questions about my own upbringing. I felt the same hope when my father first announced our move to Maryland. Although now there was no need to feel isolated, there would always be somewhere where I belong. I just needed to find those places and, in some cases, share them. From then on, I swore to be someone who would create change in persistent waves of determination. When I began high school, I sought ways to improve my local community, both big and small. Educational equity, diverse representation, and earnest leadership became my fuel. Through high school, I was able to advocate at the school, regional, and state level of student government- leading as President of our school’s student body and of our regional student council. I worked to create reflective changes to our region's health, social studies, and English curriculum. The barriers I faced due to my cultural differences shaped me into the leader I am today. I turned my past experiences into motivation. To be the voice for those who did not have one. After several years of growth and realization, I have come to a new conclusion: I am, indeed, a paradox. One that is willing to stand up for others and dedicate time to causes that make the world a better place.

Ever since I can remember, Baltimore City was the epicenter of issues in Maryland. Crime and disunity “havocked the city”, as I often read in the newspaper sitting on our counter. Going into high school, I decided to spend time researching the issue- dedicating projects and papers trying to better understand the situation Baltimoreans were facing. I realized that everything I was seeing in the news and reading about in papers was rooted in one underlying cause: inequity. Specifically, educational inequity. Elementary schools in the city were underfunded, so low-income students had little support for their education. These same children would have no other choice but to drop out of school, get small jobs to support their families, and find themselves swept into the same never ending cycle. It was then that I realized: I was in a position of privilege. Rather than living through the cycles, witnessing what was going on with my own eyes and ears, I was reading about it on my father’s computer in the luxury of my own home. Blood boiling, I came up with a plan. Over the next several weeks, I worked with peers in my classes, reached out to schools in Baltimore, and created a pitch for our principal. Just two weeks later, we all stood shoulder to shoulder as a united front, at our school’s administrative office. Our idea: Backpacks for Baltimore. A school based organization that would work towards raising money and purchasing school supplies for students from low-income households in Baltimore City. A direct attack on the unequitable barriers that came between these students and their education. We understood that this would not solve every problem. To some, our efforts would seem meaningless. However, we knew this endeavor would benefit the community. A community that gave us a plethora of opportunities and successes. With that, Backpacks for Baltimore was established. Our first year, we had about one dozen student volunteers supporting us. At every school fair, community auction, or PTA night- there was a white folding table with Backpacks for Baltimore leaders sharing our cause and collecting donations along the way. We held spirit nights, sold candy grams, and used the powerful tool of social media to gain support. That year, we stuffed 54 backpacks with every school supply a child would need, along with encouraging notes, homemade bookmarks, and lunch allowances. Each bag, hand delivered to title-1 elementary school students in the city. Our second year, we used the COVID-19 pandemic to our advantage. Creating virtual fundraisers and connecting with community partners. A year of loss (what some were calling it) became a year of blossoming success for this organization. With over 85 student volunteers, Backpacks for Baltimore was able to support hundreds of students in Baltimore City. Virtual meetings, socially distanced collections, and remote advocacy were no match for passion, determination, and hope. I have been blessed to witness these three traits in action. Traits that I could have only discovered in myself through service to my community. This is what I would liked to be remembered as. Someone willing to go the extra mile in order make the world a better place. Through Backpacks for Baltimore, involvement in student government, years of advocating for young people I have found my calling for public policy and education. I hope to make systemic and intuitional changes to the society we live in so education truly is equitable for all.