For so many years of my life, I missed out on my own culture. I grew up in southern Brazil, my father's homeland—a place that, much like the United States, had long treated its Indigenous peoples as inferior, silencing their voices and erasing their traditions. When my mom, an American Indian, had me, she moved to southern Brazil to live with my father's relatives. There, she forgot her culture. Not because she was ashamed, but because the folks of the area "shamed the Indian away." Sadly, this is an actual expression in southern, white-populated Brazil. As a result of years of oppression, judgment, and neglect, my mom never passed down this identity to me. That silence shaped me. At 14, I took my first DNA test, where I learned I am about 50% Indigenous. The microaggressions my mom had faced in Brazil were familiar to me as well. I, too, was shamed for the more melanated color of my skin, my accent, my dark hair, and even for being connected to my mother. You might think, given my phenotype, "Well, are you actually shocked?" But I was. Being denied my own culture and essentially white-assimilated since I was a baby does that to you. I spent over a decade wondering how my genes had messed up and why I was darker and why I wasn't blonde or brunette. I was trapped in a body I thought had failed me, unable to love or recognize myself. But that DNA test changed my life. As I looked at my mom's beautiful, dark almond eyes, midnight-black hair, and warmly tanned skin, I saw the full picture. For once, I saw my reflection, and I understood. After that day, I devoted myself to understanding our culture, slowly weaving the new parts of myself I had discovered into my day-to-day life. So, who am I? I'm Indigenous. I'm part Sateré-Mawé Indian and part Navajo Indian. I speak Tupi-Guarani as well as Diné bizaad. I'm a mixed native who no longer hides her roots and celebrates her ancestors. I'm a painter whose been passed down the ancestral formula for indigenous "grafismo," the sacred painting of the body and face—jenipapo and cria for black paint, and urucum for red paint. I'm a young adult who likes to have fun by learning the choreography for the Folklore Festival of Parintins, and who is learning how to weave teec nos pos Navajo rugs with her mom (who now proudly embraces her culture once more). After nearly two decades, I am free. I finally know my roots, and I honor them. Indigenous identity is something no native should be denied or forced to hide. Our identity is unbroken—woven from the memory of ancestors who walked these lands long before lines were drawn. We see it in the activism of those who fight to protect sacred lands, in the ceremonies and dances passed from generation to generation, and in the revival of native languages long thought lost. Native American identity is, at its heart, a story of survival turned into strength. Where once hatred and fear tried to destroy us, we now stand proud and with dignity, echoing the voices of our ancestors. I refuse to be silenced and will not tolerate microagressions from ignorant people. I have my mind set on becoming a biomedical scientist, and the same way our ancestors fought for their posterity, I will fight for my education so that one day I can cure diseases and improve treatments for millions of people who need it. Natives aren't relics of the past; we're hope for the future.

"The American Dream is the political and social ideology that hard work will result in material and spiritual happiness and fortune, regardless of your background". This is not how I would describe the American Dream, but it is how my AP U.S. History teacher described it. My observation and personal experience of the American Dream is that hard work will get you somewhere in life— as long as eligibility requirements apply to you. Scholarships, interviews, and important documents often remain out of reach for many Dreamers because of our status; overlooked by one factor that seems to determine our worth. I disagree with this American Dream. The American Dream is for those who have perseverance— who are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams, regardless of barriers and challenges placed before them. My American Dream is knowing I'll achieve everything I set out to do because I have that drive within me— because for a decade I've watched my mom scrub her hands raw cleaning upper-class residents' homes despite having a degree in Computer Science. My American Dream is the safety of a committed and just employment because I have proved I qualify— because for a decade I've watched my dad work overtime as an IT earning less than minimum wage for the first several years of his employment. My American Dream is paying back all the sacrifices my parents made to give me the American Dream they believed in— the American Dream that failed them. My American Dream is not a document that highlights status, and I refuse to let this be what defines me. The Dream is the individual. It's the person who worked so hard for every opportunity and who made the most of it with what little they had. It's the person that has so much to give but is never given the chance. As an immigrant and first-generation student, I have witnessed countless opportunities handed to my documented classmates whereas I was overlooked. But even when the door was closed to me, I knocked anyway. Despite the challenges, I am thankful that volunteering is something I am able to do. Giving back is one of the few places where my status has not been a barrier. One of my most cherished experiences is cheering folks at the Westchester of Sunrise by playing some tunes for them on my flute. My visits weren't just about pressing keys and performing— it was about bringing joy, laughter, and listening to the stories they had to share. Their struggles, wisdom, and resilience were inspiring. Volunteering has not only allowed me to serve others, but it has also reinforced my belief that the American Dream is about the impact we leave behind. I am currently a first-year student at Palm Beach State College, majoring in Biology with the dream of becoming a biomedical researcher. I want to dedicate my career to studying human ailments and discovering cures and better treatments for the diseases that corrode the lives of billions of people— like Cancer, Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and many more. I dream of making breakthroughs that will bring hope to people, both medically and socially. I'm grateful this scholarship turns to those who have the drive to succeed but are often overlooked. This scholarship is special, and if given the opportunity, I believe this scholarship would not only propel my education forward but also contribute to the future of medicine. This scholarship is more than just financial aid— it's proof that drive, determination, and passion matter more than status. And that's what the Dream is.

For years, I've known of God— the omnipotent Creator who created the heavens and Earth and who sent His son Jesus to die for us. I accepted that idea of God and followed what others preached, although not many times did I pick up my Bible and willingly read it. And for a long time, this worked out alright for me. As a child, I embraced Christianity as much as I understood it- I prayed, knew all the bible stories, and could recite Psalms 23. But when hardships forced me to withdraw from Christian school, I drifted. I sought approval from popular kids, and although I identified as Christian, that's nothing about my actions was Christ-like— I stopped attending church, didn't read the Scripture, and let my tongue reflect the company I kept. And for me, this was always enough— until I met my best friend. My best friend was the ideal Christian: church every Sunday, Bible verses memorized, self-control, kind, humble, and patient. It wasn't until I spent a lot of time with him that I began to look within and compare myself to him. I looked at him and saw Jesus in him, but I looked at myself and saw nothing, just the shell of someone I used to be and pretended to still be. Around this same time, I faced a challenge that left me in a very dark place. I was being stalked, bullied, and I lost my job. My grades reflected my mental state and I withdrew further, feeling abandoned by everyone— the school, my friends, even by God. I was lost and depressed, and many times had I thought about ending it all, seeing no purpose to my pointless suffering. But one day, a family friend invited me to church to pray. I accepted expecting nothing to come of it. When I entered that church for the first time in nearly a decade, I was overwhelmed by the love surrounding me, and when they prayed for me, I couldn't help myself— I just cried. I cried in front of strangers in a place that used to be my second home as a child. After that day, I decided to forget everything and fix my eyes on Jesus, no matter what. And that's what I did. I had no plan and no strategy, only faith. Nothing was in my favor. Yet somehow, I won the court case with no lawyer, graduated in the top 10% of my class, set a school record, and was the county's Distinguished Cadet of the Year. I can say many things about my faith today, but the most important of all is knowing the difference between knowing OF God and knowing Him. You can't trust Him without knowing Him. And that's what I've been doing. I've been devoting time to God and getting to know Him better, in hopes of deepening my faith. Jesus didn't just die for me, he died INSTEAD of me. Knowing this, how could I possibly take my eyes off Him? God is leading me down the path of biomedical research- a career where I can help and serve others just as He did. I want to dedicate my mind to science, seeking cures and treatments that can alleviate suffering. Just as faith has transformed my life, I want my education to transform the lives of others. I don't know where this scholarship will go, but I do know I have Him by my side because even when I couldn't feel him, He was always there. And He will always be. Amen.

I'm Brazilian- born and raised. I know what the first thought that came to your head was: sunny beaches, samba music everywhere (maybe bossa nova if you've got a feel for jazzy tunes), the Carnaval, or maybe the vast Amazon rainforest. That, however, is not my reality. My reality is looking over your shoulder every two seconds because one makes it too obvious and by three you've already been pick-pocketed. It's hearing about crimes every single day- at elementary schools, bars, my neighbors' homes, and even churches- ranging from larceny to homicide to illegal deforestation. It's being seconds away from abduction at age eight by a man five times my age while hand-in-hand with my parents. It's skipping meals because the average Brazilian didn't make enough to pay the mortgage, bills, and food altogether. It's waking up feeling thankful that nobody scaled over the 6ft brick wall and crept into our home through the window and harmed us simply because he "felt like it". I encourage you to ask a native-born and raised Brazillian how many times they've experienced assault- it'll probably require both hands to count. Yet you don't hear complaints. Brazilians adapt. They endure. They survive. But I'm sure that's not what most people think of when you talk about Brazil- you think of the beautiful beaches and the gorgeous women. Why do I say all this? What's the relevance? When my grandma passed, the little money she left behind became our ticket out. My parents left everything behind- their culture, their friends, their families, their home, even the dogs. It hurt them, but nothing mattered more to them than my safety. My parents gave up everything they knew and ventured into the unknown with a 9-year-old. They arrived with only their work ethic and dedication, only face prejudice, blackmail, and racism. But they endured- because life in Brazil was far more dangerous, and they refused to raise me in a kleptocracy. My parents mean everything to me. I am who I am because of them- because of their love. They raised me right, that's something I can't ever pay back, but I can only try. Despite hardships, they always taught me to be gentle and to serve, even when people don't deserve it. They taught me to strive for more, because knowledge is a blessing and a privilege. And you know what? They were right. In light of this, I dream of becoming a biomedical researcher. I want to study human ailments, develop better treatments, and find cures. I want to give back- to the society that provided me with a wonderful education, to the society that suffers under corruption, and to those who are in need of hope, because that's a value my parents always stilled in me: The virtue of service. I want to devote my brain to science, so I can serve and save lives- to make a change in the world and bring hope to those affected by diseases. However, the road to success is lined with obstacles. As the cost of education rises and housing becomes more expensive, I fear my academic achievements aren't enough to get me all the way. This scholarship wouldn't just lighten my financial burden- it would invest in the future of science and in someone who yearns to give back. This scholarship would help me honor my parents and continue my pursuit of knowledge to serve others. With the support of the Pierson Family Scholarship for U.S. Studies scholarship, I won't just be earning a degree; I'll be building a future where I can make a difference.

If Latinhood were to be described in one word, it be "subpar." Not because I believe that defines me, but because that's how the world too often perceives us. Latinhood is being judged for an accent rather than intelligence. It's being spoken to in broken Spanish despite having a Brazilian heritage. Latinhood is always being compared based on your ethnicty. As a first generation-Brazilian, I experience microaggressions and have been experiencing them for over 10 years. The stereotyping, typecasting, backhandedness, bullying, discrimination- it's always been there. My English was flawless, my grades were exceptional, I skipped a grade, and I aced all state and national tests. For years, no matter how I excelled, I was never seen as enough. My accomplishments were always overshadowed by assumptions about my identity. But I am an educated person, who has value and intellect, and I realized I wasn't any less than an American, because my blood bled the same red as theirs. Everything that was thrown at me, physically or verbally, I used to fuel my ambitions, to prove I am worthy of respect just as any other person, and to prove my intellect has no ethnicity, only humanity. I come from a lineage of fighters- women who fought for their rights in 1970, people who fought for justice in the 1900s Munduruku resistance, and men who defended their homes in the Munduruku War (1800s) against the Portuguese. When facing adversity for my identity, I must remind myself what my ancestors did- they persevered. And that's what I did. I worked hard for all my achievements. I mastered over 10 musical instruments and shared music with those who wanted to hear it. I joined the American Army JROTC and set many local and state records, including becoming a member of the "Superintendent's Own Guard". I also immersed myself in AP and AICE classes, taking every academic opportunity I could, and I was rewarded by earning tutoring jobs for nearby educational institutes. Opportunities didn't come easy for me, but I fought for every one of them, and the trophies on my walls serve as reminders of what I persevered. The very harassment, stalking, and discrimination that was meant to take me down only proved my worth. In research, as in life, progress is built on failures turned into breakthroughs. My journey- from overcoming linguistic and cultural barriers to excelling in leadership- has prepared me for a future where I will confront the unknown not with fear, but with determination to persevere and innovate. I want to be a research scientist and seek cures for diseases that plague the lives of millions of people all across the globe, such as cancer, Alzheimers, and many more. I want to serve society- even those who have wronged me for my identity, I want to serve. I want to set a legacy of determination and perseverance, and show that your value isn't your status, ethnicity, or sex- it's in your soul and what you do with it. Now if I were to describe what Latinhood really is, I'd say "adaptable." Our true strength comes from generations of fighters. Generations that experienced war, hardships, and pain, but always passed down the importance of love and resilience. True Latinhood is taking opportunities because your parents couldn't. It's working hard to pay back years or even generations of sacrifice. It's being educated when those who have the opportunity don't take it. I am proud of my heritage, and I am determined to show the world that my heritage isn't a setback, it's success.

To me, legacy means proof of change brought upon the world through perseverance and purpose. It's the lasting impact we leave behind, defined by our actions, the lives we touch, and the challenges we overcome. My understanding of legacy comes from personal experience. As a high school sophomore, I entered the Junior Army Reserve Training Corps (JROTC), unaware that this decision was the beginning of my legacy and the start of a fire within me. At the time, the program was highly unmotivated and stagnant, with very few people involved in its clubs and teams. As years passed, I worked hard and exponentially climbed up the ranks, becoming captain of various teams, and leading multiple competition teams to historic achievements. One of my proudest moments was leading two different teams to States, where we placed 3rd for the first time in my school's history. Over time, the program was brought back to life and our numbers grew. However, my journey wasn't without obstacles. Facing harassment and experiencing obsessive stalking due to my Indigenous background left me vulnerable and lost. These trying times dulled my light and, for some time, tested my resolve, but I refused to let it define me. I knew that perseverance was not just a personal choice but a responsibility I owed to my team. I was determined to demonstrate that resilience was possible, even in the face of fear and adversity. My perseverance did not go unnoticed. I was nominated as my program's Cadet of the Year, a position that came with the responsibility of competing against 32 other cadets from throughout the county to earn the title of "County's Cadet of the Year." This competition was another groundbreaking moment- I became a finalist after placing 5th and earned a spot in the "Superintendent's Own Guard." The recognition was gratifying, but the real reward came in the impact I left behind. I realized how far I pushed the program when my assistant came to me the day of my graduation and pointed out I left them (the program) "impossible shoes to fill" given I "was a lot of the program's firsts." Her words illuminated the true legacy I had left- not just in awards and records but in inspiring others to believe in themselves and push to their maximum potential. The program has since tripled in size, and I still help out. Seeing the fire I helped ignite in so many others drives my ambition in everything I do. The resilience and ambition I discovered in JROTC are traits I now carry into my dream of advancing cancer research. Just as I overcame challenges and left a lasting mark on my program, I plan to overcome the barriers of science known today to improve lives and create a new legacy of hope for those impacted by the disease. Legacy is not a destination but a continuous journey of growth and impact. My time in JROTC taught me the power of resilience, leadership, and ambition to create meaningful change. It gave me the confidence to know that no matter the challenges I face, I have the determination and strength to rise above them. My legacy has only just begun. Below is a depiction of Jesus, who was my friend through it all, and is a beautiful example of what legacy is.

I have my heart set on becoming a cancer research scientist. As a member of the Satere-Mawe, an underrepresented Indigenous community from Brazil, I carry a deep sense of duty to honor my heritage while striving to make a difference in the world. Cancer has plagued my family and my community for generations. Among Indigenous people, including the Satere-Mawe, cancer statistics often go unreported or untreated due to systematic inequalities in healthcare access (PubMed: National Library of Medicine). My goal is to change this narrative, not just for my family, but for all communities impacted by this devastating disease. Every year, approximately 2 million people in the United States are diagnosed with cancer, and hundreds of thousands lose their lives to it (National Cancer Institute). The constant cycle of pain and suffering lives on, infecting and corroding the body and mind of the patient and of those who care for them. I aspire to be part of the generation of scientists who bring hope back, working to save lives and improve the quality of life of those affected by cancer. I want to contribute to groundbreaking research that leads to a cure for all communities impacted by cancer, especially underrepresented communities like mine, where health disparities often mean higher mortality rates. Some say a cure isn't possible, but the same has been said hundreds of years ago for diseases like leprosy and measles, which now have a cure, and I am determined to find one for cancer. As a first-year college student, I have made a strong start toward achieving my goals. My coursework includes biology, chemistry, and organic chemistry lab and lecture courses. Beyond the classroom, I have taken the initiative to study oncology textbooks and modern cancer treatment procedures. However, no achievement comes without a price. Coming from a family who works over 60 hours a week yet struggles to make ends meet, I understand the immense financial strain higher education places on my family. My parents are the reason I am in college today. Despite our limited resources, my parents sacrifice time, money, and energy to support my education, believing in the power of knowledge. Knowledge is imperishable; it is a treasure no one can take away from me. The weight of their sacrifices motivates me to succeed but also fuels my determination to alleviate their burden. Earning the Bright Lights Scholarship would not only help me fund my education but also provide much-needed relief to my parents, who have given so much for my future. Bright Lights acknowledges individuals who persevere despite challenges and who rise above limitations with resilience and ambition. This scholarship would be a pivotal moment in my journey, as a stepping stone to accomplish my goal of becoming a scientist. The support from this scholarship also symbolizes the support of a larger community that believes in the potential of students like me, who yearn to make a difference in the world through science. As an Indigenous first-generation student of the tribe Satere-Mawe, I hold resilience, perseverance, and reverence for knowledge close to my heart. My path as a scientist is deeply personal: it is my way of honoring my ancestors and giving back to communities like mine that have been long underserved. I conclude this application by thanking you for your time and consideration of my situation and aspirations.

When I was little, I remember lying on the hammock with my grandma every evening at sunset. She would tell me Bible stories and sing Satere-Mawe folklore chants—a beautiful blend of two vital parts of our identity. My grandma was the kindest and most resilient soul I have ever encountered, always leaving a lasting impression on everyone she came across. On August 7, 2012, cancer took her away from me. It was devastating, but her memory was not lost. This ignited a fire within me—a determination to honor her legacy and fight the disease that took her too soon. My grandma set the standards immensely high for our family. She was the first woman to become a teacher (despite not being allowed to go to college) and worked three jobs to provide for her two children and her mother for nearly two decades. She taught me determination, passion, and faith—values I carry with me every day. I want to honor these lessons and go above and beyond the bounds of science. I yearn to find the cure to the disease that's taken so much from my family and millions of others around the world. The importance of education is something that has been imprinted on me from a very young age. By the time I was four, I could read and write, both in print and cursive, both in Portuguese and in Spanish. I learned basic algebra by first grade and skipped a grade as a result. I have consistently ranked in the top 10% of my class. Why do I mention all of this? Because knowledge is power, and the pursuit of knowledge is priceless. I don't study because I have to; I do it because I have a goal, and studying enhances me. Progress is made through knowledge, determination, and innovation. My goal is to use education to drive that progress. I am currently pursuing my undergraduate degree in Biology at Palm Beach State University, and I plan to earn a Master's in Cell Biology. My focus is on researching cellular behavior to better understand how cancer develops and spreads. A cure is possible, but it requires intense studying, consistency, and innovation. The same cancerous blood that ran through my grandmother, and her mother before her, and the mother before her, runs in my veins. I want to end this plague and the pain it brings to 2 million people every year (National Cancer Institute). The pain, heartache, and hopelessness people undergoing cancer treatments feel is unimaginable—even more so, the despair of those who cannot afford treatments. The destruction that cancer brings lives on—either through blood or through the memories of those who knew the patient. I don't have money, connections, or extensive experience, but I offer my mind and determination to science. I've already begun this journey by visiting cancer support centers, donating, and studying textbooks on cancer. My goal is driven not only by personal loss but also by a desire to give back to society. I want to bring hope to people and create a future where cancer no longer claims lives. Education and discipline are keys to unlocking this future. They will equip me with the tools, knowledge, and networks necessary to progress science known today. My ultimate goal is to use education to merge research with real-world solutions, ensuring the breakthroughs I help achieve are accessible to all those who need them. I yearn to be part of the solution that will make a difference in our world.

My parents and I emigrated from Brazil not too long ago. While things are better, life remains challenging. To summarize our financial struggles over the last ten years, let's just say none of my friends know what it's like to shower with a bucket of heated water from the gas stove because we couldn't afford to pay for the electricity. This isn't my everyday life, and I thank God for that, but it happened far too often, and things are getting tough again now that I have started college. I will be a cancer research scientist. Cancer ruined my life and has been devastating my family for at least 4 generations on my mother's side. I've had enough of watching it take away the people I love, and for this reason, I am majoring in biology in community college in hopes of later becoming a cell scientist and researcher. My ultimate goal is to dedicate my career to finding ways to fight and cure the disease. However, the path is not free of hardships, as we all know. My coursework has placed a significant financial strain on my family. My mom works tirelessly as a housecleaner, where she constantly exposes herself to chemicals that strip her hands bare and where the house owners bully her into accepting less than the minimum wage for her type of work. My dad works for a small company that often demands unpaid time. When he finally comes home, exhausted, he still makes time to ask me about what I've learned in school, despite working two to three hours long without being paid. My parents sacrifice so much for me, and I wish I could ease their burden. But as a music tutor, there is only so much I can contribute to. In my eyes, the only way to repay such a huge sacrifice of leaving their country and dreams is by studying hard and to keep looking forward: building a stable future. For as long as I can remember, I held myself to the highest standard, knowing that anything less than my best wouldn't be enough to honor their sacrifices. I pushed myself to the limit in school, only accepting straight A's, taking Advanced Placement (AP) and AICE courses, participating in extracurriculars and sports, and maxing out my service hours. Out of 11 AP courses taken, I passed 8, and I also earned the honors of graduating as top 8% of my class with a 4.8 GPA. Now that I'm in college, my drive hasn't faltered, but the pressure has intensified. I spend extra hours at school, study ahead of my classes, create my own quizzes to reinforce what I learned, and I constantly score the highest grades. A few weeks ago, I took on a second job tutoring my neighbor's teenager in science, which helps with grocery expenses and serves as valuable review for my biology coursework. After all that's been said, I just have my parents and God to thank. They have given me every opportunity, and I seize every one of them with determination. But of course, life happens, and not everything in life can be paid off, but I just hope I can pay my parents back one day.

No matter where you are or what you're going through, always stay true to yourself. My name is Ashley, and I emigrated from Brazil at the young age of 8. I experienced many difficulties while trying to adapt. I was bullied for my accent, my skin tone, and my interest in music. Despite the pain and struggle of not being able to fit in or be accepted, I remained loyal to who I was inside and what mattered to me. As I grew older, I began to explore music with a deeper passion. I eventually learned to play 14 musical instruments, ranging from winds to percussion instruments. The point was never to play the most, but to perfect the most so I could share the beauty of music equally in all areas. I've done many projects, including music cover videos, arranging musical pieces, participating in multiple bands per school and playing featured parts, playing for charity events, playing in county bands, and tutoring. It truly brings joy to my heart to do these things. When living in Brazil, I witnessed many misfortunes. I saw shootings, domestic violence in the streets, theft, and prices too high for people to make ends meet. Too many people had too little, and too many lived in poor conditions, but what touched me the most was how the general population was happy. Not happy because of what they experienced or because of their lifestyle, but happy because they were alive and had pure hearts. The last straw was when I was almost kidnapped at the age of 8; after that, we sold everything and moved to the US--- a fresh start. As I previously mentioned, I struggled to fit in and found a calling to music. But I want to dive deeper into my drive since moving here. I was raised right by my momma and dad. They pushed me, starting from a very young age, to seek knowledge and push myself to my limit. I've always aimed to honor them through my vigorous studies because I want a successful future for all of us. I want to give them what we couldn't have in Brazil, but to achieve this goal, I need discipline. So many people who were born and raised here take their opportunities for granted, with little care and little effort. I didn't have the luxury of opportunities in Brazil, so now I take every one that I'm given. My greatest manifestation of discipline outside of academics is music. Musical instruments are easily accessible here, so when I found my calling for music, I made it a goal to be the best I can at every one of them and share music with others and for others. On some weekends, I like to go to retirement homes and play for the people there, especially around the holiday season. I want to take my opportunity to have instruments and be good at them and use them to make other people happy. That's what being an immigrant taught me to do. Use that which others can't access, and don't waste it; use it for good. With discipline and opportunities in mind, I have one ultimate goal above everything else. I want to repay my parents for everything they've done for me and given me. They are currently paying for my education, given that I don't earn enough tutoring to afford it on my own. I must honor my parents, but it's time I do that financially, not just academically. I am nothing without my parents, and I believe all children should honor their parents. This belief was strengthened when I saw how differently kids behaved with their parents here compared to in Brazil. It's noticeable how kids here often talk back and abuse their parents in a way that saddens the soul. Although I live in America, my Brazilian roots and morals will follow me for the rest of my life, and I'm proud of this as a first-generation college student.

I resonate most with the songs "What Was I Made For?", "No Time to Die," and "You Should See Me in a Crown." "What Was I Made For?" is popularly known for its appearance in the Barbie movie that touched millions of hearts, mine included. In the lyrics, Billie reflects on the feeling of being lost and confused, like "just something you paid for; what was I made for?" and "don't tell my boyfriend; that's not what he's made for," as well as the struggle with the question of purpose, supported by the motif of "what was I made for?". The hardships of womanhood and fitting in are also brilliantly expressed in her music video. The video starts with the "original Barbie" playing with the Barbie toy clothes. As she innocently reminisces, tremors, wind, and rain begin to disrupt her world. On a deeper level, I can connect with this because I, too, have felt as though my world was falling apart as I tried to keep control of my past and my innocence. My world collapsed when I finally got proof of a girl at my school sexually harassing and assaulting me, given that she often gaslighted others into thinking it was consensual. I never felt so used as a woman. This had been happening for over a year, and I finally got the proof, but the men at my school neglected me and my evidence. No matter how much evidence I had, I couldn't fit into the "bully victim stereotype," and nobody understood how I felt. But then, there was Billie Eilish. Notice the transition from "what was I made for?" to "something I'm made for." There's this ever-slight shift from confusion to hope. This was enough to keep me going. Then there's "No Time To Die." I took the time I needed to grieve my situation. At one point, we were close friends. The evidence of her betrayal was something I couldn't grasp, and Billie illustrated exactly what I felt perfectly. "No Time To Die" describes betrayal and heartbreak, and there's a shift from the initial disbelief to a resentful letting go. Many people warned me, but I believed she just needed a friend to help her through her trauma- trauma that never existed, but that she used to keep me on a leash. The motif of "no time to die" also serves as a firm reminder to persevere. That's what I needed to hear while grieving the loss of my friend, the friends who believed her, and my teachers who turned against me. Billie's song touched me because I realized someone sympathized enough to write a song perfectly describing my situation and what I had to do. And I did it. This leads me to my third favorite, "You Should See Me in a Crown." This song is so powerful in so many ways. In contrast to the more emotional songs I connected with, this one demonstrates strength and confidence. The confidence and boldness in the song inspired me to heal. My soul was crushed, and I was broken. But this song urged me to "play my cards" and "they'll fall." So, I played my cards right, and I pushed myself to the limit, earning the highest grades and highest honors. This girl had to watch and clap as I graduated with honors and awards I wouldn't have achieved if she hadn't broken me down so badly. In the end, she saw me in a crown while she stood at the bottom, playing for my anthem, just as Billie manifested.

You cannot be disciplined without holding yourself accountable. For me, discipline is one of the best qualities a woman can develop, as it mentally prepares her for all of life's unpredictable challenges. But to achieve that level of discipline and mental resilience, you need to master accountability. I firmly believe accountability is what sets up the stage for ultimate success in life. I have always held myself accountable for all my actions and deeds, whether it's something seemingly "meaningless," like neglecting a minor choice, or more significant consequences, such as failing to study for a test. The key to truly holding yourself accountable and growing from it is to acknowledge that you alone control your actions, and your choices define not only the outcomes but also your character. I aspire to embody a good character and morals, but without acknowledging that my choices are solely my responsibility and that the consequences occurred because of my choices, I would be fooling myself in my goal of having a good character. I like to think that there are steps to accountability. Step 1: Reflect on what happened- just the facts, such as what, when, and who. Step 2: Analyze why it happened- deeper emotional reflection, including what I was thinking and why. Step 3: Acknowledge responsibility- lack of discipline may have caused a slip up and undesirable consequences. Step 4: Learn from this and move forward. I have personal experiences that illustrate how accountability has defined my future. As a former high school JROTC student, accountability was a core value. Earlier in my senior year, I faced significant challenges that weakened my academic and leadership standing. These challenges arose due to excessive stalking and harassment from a classmate, leading to a messy road to getting a restraining order. This ordeal wasn't easy, and it weakened my spirit. My academic performance began to falter, and my leadership skills in both JROTC and band started to fail me. During this time, I was nominated as my school's Cadet of the Year, representing our program in a county-wide competition among 32 other programs. This motivated me like never before, I was going to place in the top 10. However, my accountability was lacking. I felt that my teacher's mock competitions were designed to make me fail, believing she was intentionally choosing topics outside the study guide. A few months later, at my first competition, I was asked a question that wasn't on my study guide and that had been asked by my teacher. I hadn't bothered to remember the answer. I passed on to the final round, against 15 other students, but I didn't forget how my ignorance almost cost me that opportunity. From then on, I held myself accountable for every mistake, both inside and outside the JROTC program. I pushed myself harder than ever to master the topics of government, politics, leadership, citizenship, history, and bureaucracy. By accepting accountability and admitting that I risked my spot because of my ignorance, I was more prepared than I ever could have imagined. In the end, I placed 5th out of 32 competitors- something never done before in my school's history. I was a finalist for the first time ever. But I know I couldn't have achieved that honor without taking accountability when it mattered most. Accountability is not merely admitting a mistake and being punished when things go wrong. It's an ethical virtue that empowers growth and turns challenges into stepping stones for a successful and disciplined life.

Growing with Gabby Life is about living and learning. Whether you think of this as something bad or good, it’s true. Absolutely everything you and I do is a learning experience. You do something wrong, you learn not to do it again. You do something right, you learn to keep doing it. Learning is what makes you grow. I, for the most part, consider myself a leader. My favorite thing about being a leader is the failures. It’s the mistakes. The errors. Before you judge me a bad leader, hear me out. People think that leaders always know the answer to every problem, they are perfect people who can’t do wrong if their lives depended on it. Well, that’s not true. The point of being a leader is making mistakes so you learn from them, apply to future situations, and pass it down to those who are inspired by you. This year, both leader-wise and personally, I have had a lot of learning experiences. Motivation in JROTC, self-reflection in music, and time have all made me realize the importance of growing. Nothing could inspire me more than people. Seeing people who were once like me transform into someone completely different. Someone inspirational, motivational, someone new. Someone you yearn to be. Last year was my first year in JROTC- a leadership class. At first, I thought it was just some class training kids for military. False. The class is about doing your best and getting recognized for it. My first year in the class I went up three ranks, got four ribbons, a chord, and a medal. That is honestly impressive for someone in their first year. Everything I learned in the class, I started applying into other classes and simple every-day activities. I have always been a motivated student, but taking that class made my motivation skyrocket. To answer the question, the event that inspired my personal growth was my first time sitting in the front of the JROTC classroom as one of the class leaders. Similarly, self-reflection is something I rarely thought about until last year. Before, if I did something wrong, I would just kind of shrug it off and remind myself to not do it again. But as the year progressed, I turned self-reflection and evaluation into a routine. This was specially proven true in band, my true passion. I love music and I love leading the band. Every time I did something, I would brainstorm what I did wrong, why, and how to avoid it next time. I consider self-evaluation crucial if you want to grow. It changed me. Once again, before, if I did something wrong I’d simply shrug it off and try to remind myself not to do it again, but now I analyze where something went wrong and why, and how to do better next time. Most importantly, I learned the importance of growing. Every day, I see kids my age misbehaving, making a fool of themselves, and making bad choices and not learning from it. Of course, not all are like this, but those who are make me sad. I’ve learned growing isn’t about being perfect, growing is about changing and adapting. It’s about accepting the consequences of your actions and deeds and learning from it. My journey has made me healthier, both physically and mentally. I am not perfect, but I am growing and learning every day. And I’m going to keep doing so every day, and I know someday, it will pay off. Maybe I will inspire someone and the cycle will continue.