“So much of me is made of what I learned from you/ You’ll be with me like a handprint on my heart.” My mother grew up watching The Wizard of Oz, a film she treasured and shared with me as a child. So when Wicked, the Broadway prequel, was announced as a movie, I pre-ordered opening night tickets for us. Much has changed for her since she was a child. She is the sole caretaker for her parents, one of whom has dementia and the other a broken back. She hides such stress excellently, but I am observant. I know my mother like she knows her son, through love and her smallest tendencies. This is why I was so eager to see the movie with her. As I drove her to the premiere, I saw her shoulders relax, her careful defenses melting as her inner child emerged. During the film, I saw a tear on her cheek. "I love you," she said, gently squeezing my hand. My love for Wicked runs much deeper than the story itself. While I have an immense appreciation for every aspect of the story, from Cynthia Erivo’s wonderful performance to the energy captured on screen in the “Dancing through Life” number, my favorite part of the film is its ability to help me connect with my mom. She does so much for others, and it is such a moving experience to be able to give back in a small way. I love her deeply, and I cannot help but think of her whenever I see the characters on screen. Through every moment in my life, she has inevitably changed me for good.

I remember the first time I entered the South Carolina State House. The echo of my footsteps on the marble floor, the dome that seemed to stretch on forever into the sky, and the quiet conversations with a tangible sense of urgency– it was impossible to deny the sheer spectacle, even at ten years old. Yet what struck me most had nothing to do with the building itself. Ideas were presented, challenged, and defended with unwavering conviction; a continuous contest over liberty played out in those hallowed halls day after day. I was left not only with a dream to serve but also an unshakable question: how can one voice truly make a difference? This pursuit has shaped my life ever since. Through discussion and debate with peers, public speaking, and service, I have sought to understand how meaningful change occurs and endures. Volunteering with community organizations (such as the Burton Center Miracle League) demonstrated the communal impact of service, while shadowing a representative at the State House clarified my future career path: a policymaker serving at either the local, state, or national level. Throughout these experiences, the study of history and politics has had a greater influence on me than any other factor. With reverence and awe, I took in our nation’s history, attentive to even the most minute of details. These courses (particularly Government and American History) shaped my perspective in ways few individual experiences could. There was a clear, resounding understanding of those facts. Despite the changes high school inevitably brought, the events of yesteryear revealed enduring patterns of cause and consequence. At the University of South Carolina Honors College, I plan to double major in Political Science and History, while also minoring in Philosophy and Journalism. Through them, the answer to that question I asked myself so long ago will slowly become clear. Every day, I will serve constituents by drawing upon the wisdom, theories, and events of the past to better advance the country into a promising future. Examining patterns of inflation may help pass legislation that eases its burdens, while studying periods of increased bipartisan activity will lead to an intentional focus on unity over division. Through impactful legislation and measurable change in the lives of those I will serve, I plan to truly make the world a better place. It is in Houses just like the ones that left an indelible mark on me so long ago, that these changes will be enacted. When I prepare to speak on a bill that has the potential to change the lives of millions or fight for the rights of the underrepresented, I will cling to a guiding truth: the past is essential to understanding the present– and more importantly, to changing the future.