One of my earliest memories takes place in the backseat of my mom’s brown Chrysler, the car she got after finally getting her license. To celebrate not needing to take the bus to school or work anymore, she drove us through all of Chicago’s glory to a free, small zoo that was around all the rich, white people. After enjoying my time with my younger brother and parents, we hopped back into the brown Chrysler where I stared at the animals from afar. After only recently learning how to read, my mother gave me animals to spell. This endeavor was going splendidly until she got to the word “Giraffe”. I, being young and silly, started off the word with “J” because the beginning of “Giraffe” made a “juh” sound. My mom cut me off immediately with a stern “no” and encouraged me to try again. Except, I didn’t try again. I was certain that, based on what I had learned about phonetics, the word “Giraffe” started with “J”. The rest of the car ride was filled with me and my mother arguing about the beginning of a clearly established English word. Since I was a young child, I have wanted to be able to come to my own conclusions, think for myself, and argue against things I believe to be unfair. Throughout my high school career, to better understand the world around me that I wish to fight for, I’ve conducted multiple historical and governmental research projects. The first was on the history of minstrelsy and how it impacts the representation of people of color in film and television. This was my first introduction to writing academically, researching a topic that I picked myself, and being genuinely interested in what I was writing about. This experience solidified my confidence in my writing and research skills to better encompass the condition of the world around me. Once I found that it was easy for me to comment on things with major historical implications. During my junior year, I took on my biggest research project yet. An eight-month-long project dedicated to learning about anything I wished would result in a 5,200-word research paper and a 20-minute presentation to my colleagues and supervisors. Since my teacher for this class was the same as my teacher for my AP United States History class and he saw my interest in history, he practically fed me books about African-American, women’s, Latino, European, and Asian history. Being essentially bombarded with the world’s knowledge, I set my sights on a research topic that would reflect these teachings. I eventually landed on the topic: The Art of Lying Without Lying: The Evolution of Presidential War Rhetoric. I researched how presidents shaped the minds of the American people during wartime and if occurrences of lying or “doublespeak” increased over time. During my project, I enlisted the help of Sean Lee, a member of NATO’s international staff, to help craft my project into something memorable and presentable. While working with Lee, I learned how to face intimidating figures, accept feedback and criticism from them, and apply it to my work to improve the quality. These experiences have culminated in my choice of pursuing prosecution and technology law to better propagate fairness and innovation in America. I wish to become involved in government as a part of the House or Senate to better represent the technology sphere as it is heavily misunderstood like most aspects of fundamental human life. I have made it my mission to do so and I hope you recognize my vigor and graciously afford me this opportunity!

Growing up, my family definitely could not afford cable. My brother and I would watch PBS Kids during the day, Qubo during the night, and beg our parents for a Netflix subscription when it stopped working. Other than books, Television was the only form of entertainment we could consume before we were old enough to use the internet or a phone. But, if we were good and we cleaned our room, Mommy would let us go downstairs to our Nana and Papa’s apartment, which had clean and supreme cable. We could watch Cartoon Network, Disney XD, Nickelodeon, Disney Kids, or just plain old Disney Channel. The school we attended was called Disney so we were pretty enamored with the shows. FIVE WHOLE CHANNELS, instead of the usual two! We loved Spongebob and Teen Titans but mostly watched KC Undercover, Ant Farm, Jesse, and Girl Meets World. Or at least, I watched Girl Meets World. This was my first introduction to Sabrina Carpenter and like the other celebrities on Disney Channel I didn’t think of her much until I saw her off of my television and onto my computer when she released her song “Thumbs”. The song is simple, speaking about the economic disparity between classes in the country… a normal topic for a Disney Channel star to sing about. Mind my sarcasm, but this moment led to my admiration for Sabrina Carpenter. I’ve always been interested in history, government, and politics, hence my major, and this open protest of the monotonous, hierarchal nature of the workplace somehow resonated deeply in my nine-year-old, unemployed heart. As my interests changed and my music horizons expanded, not far admittedly, I began listening to other artists. This resulted in me listening to Olivia Rodrigo, another Disney Channel Prodigee. I was happy to enjoy my two favorite artists, at the same time, without any distractions, drama, or backlash. Except for it wasn’t. Additionally, it was the WORST time to like them simultaneously. Why? Because Sabrina liked a boy. And Olivia liked the same boy. Oh goodness. This was when my perspective of Sabrina changed. Now 5 years older than I was when I first listened to Thumbs and 10 years older than I was when Girl Meets World, I felt betrayed that one of my favorite celebrities would purposefully harm another girl’s relationship. This action began to make me question her moral standings earlier in her career and, as embarrassing as it is, it consumed my 14-year-old life. But this moment allowed me to think critically about my anger and feelings. I was upset at another woman because of what a man had done, on “behalf” of ANOTHER woman. And it wasn’t just me. People flooded to TikTok and Instagram to share their beliefs about the “homewrecking” Disney star. At first, I watched their videos happily. I smiled, I laughed, I agreed. But after consuming content about it for about a week on my “for you” page, the situation started to feel wrong; my reaction unjustified. How many Sabrinas were out there, being crucified for harmlessly and ethically exhibiting their free will? How often is a woman punished for a man’s actions? How many people look down on a woman for doing what a man would in her shoes? It didn’t matter how many there were at that moment, for I was one of them, partaking in an activity that, if explained without context, I would shun. This introspection led me to use metacognition and propelled my academic standing. And for this development in my youth, I will thank Sabrina Carpenter throughout my journey.

At the beginning of humanity’s conception, the Earth was a new landscape to understand and embrace. Learning how to create language, weapons, and even life was a daily occurrence in early human life. Since nature was the all-prevailing force over them, they had no choice but to adapt and survive. However, to label these endeavors as early humans “understanding” their environment is a drastic overstatement compared to the progress humans have made to understand the universe in modern history (after 1300 CE). After all, science is one of life's most fundamental pillars, and many people choose to pursue it as the dissection of our existence seems to be the greatest goal in today’s world. But, I am not choosing a typical science to go to school for. I am choosing Political Science, a perhaps, lesser science in the eyes of Einsteins. So how does political science connect with nature and our universe? Well, something most can agree on is that political science certainly connects to history, and throughout history, the price that comes with understanding nature is actively fighting against it. In December 1934, four years before the Second World War started, Italian physicist Enrico Fermi discovered atomic fission, where the nucleus of an atom splits in two. He did so in hopes of discovering a new element to bring scientific valor to Italy, before becoming an Axis power, after being overshadowed by America, Japan, Germany, and Russia for years. Despite his discovery, Fermi and his family had to flee Italy amidst the new racial laws that directly affected his Jewish wife. Fermi’s journey was to understand and harness nature in a way that many of us can’t replicate. However, his journey was cut short due to political strain, an unfair ending to his story in Italy, a country he did nothing but try to propel. The pressure from scientific and political communities drove these discoveries, which also suggests that politics can drive the understanding and disparagement of nature. His discovery advanced the utilization of nuclear energy, which is immensely vital in the world today. While Fermi fought against nature, the political system fought against him. But it’s not only valuable to understand nature for fame and fortune, it is important to understand in terms of ourselves. Humans, composed of six out of the 118 elements of the periodic table, are constantly trying to find something bigger than themselves to be a part of. But this rarely comes after introspection of oneself! The reason that we even know that there are 118 elements is because we studied the ones that were in front of us first; the ones we are made of. Thus, understanding nature is inherently understanding the condition of us, in the past, present, and sometimes future (I personally think it’s a crime that more people aren’t enamored with the fact that we can essentially predict the weather). Admittedly, I am not as great an intellectual as Fermi but his vigor and intent throughout his studies is something we can all admire. His goal of discovering fission despite trying to look for an element represents his inane ability to conquer nature whilst honoring it. The reason this is admirable it seems that ever since the 1820s, during the market revolution, humans have been going against nature. Don’t like walking? Here’s a train. Don’t like keeping cattle? Here’s a stockyard. Don’t like talking? Here’s a telegram. Don’t like working? Here’s some slav- wage workers. But Fermi went against this. This is our reality but it’s a disappointing one. The world we are so fascinated with exploring and understanding is being pushed to the side every time a cell phone dings. The most valuable resources that are naturally available are being mined by the poor and reaped by the rich. Animals that were once used in battle to confound other nations are being poached by government-regulated companies. Why must understanding nature come in tandem with disregarding and destroying it? This is a question that has been bestowed upon me throughout my childhood years by my parents, anarchists who were always in tune with human communication, ability, and nature. This question had to be asked to me to help me understand that a world that is constantly fighting against its nature is a world that is destined to be doomed. Additionally, being black in the society that America has curated makes it more and more apparent each day that our society is not interested in carrying on the benefits of nature. Humans are meant to learn, as I have reiterated multiple times, so why is the education that we have gathered from nature only available to those who can pay for it? As I said, our society is fighting against nature in all facets of life. My journey in academia has always been tailored to learning as much as possible. I’ve conducted multiple research projects where the sole purpose is to understand our condition in terms of history and politics such as Minstrelsy and the Evolution of Presidential War Rhetoric. I plan to continue this in the future, writing research papers to compile into journals to create a comprehensive view of the past and current political world. I ask that you see the bigger picture and award me this scholarship to pay for my $89,000 a year tuition, housing, and dining. I hope to garner research grants with which I can help everyone understand why it is important to understand.

From when I was 5 to when I was 7, my younger brother and I would wake out of our sleep at 11 pm, get in the car with our parents, and drive our mother to her night classes at Wilbur Wright Community College in Chicago. We would fuss and argue, proclaiming that it wasn’t fair that we had to get up. My dad would start the same monologue that would play every time we showed a sign of ungratefulness. “Your mother is going to school so she can do better things for herself. Don’t you like school? This is why you have to do extra good so you can go to school during the day”. An argument between them would usually ensue. My mom was studying criminal justice to be a police or probation officer, eventually getting her associate's degree. My dad finished high school but never went to college because his mom died when he was 19 and he had to take care of his two younger siblings. I thought this was what was in store for me. Rubbing my eyes, tired from work and children, going to community college at midnight. Because of this prediction, school and adult life seemed more daunting than it already was. But, my mother and father never let me sink in these feelings. They assured me that through hard work, discipline, and consistency would I achieve my goals. Going to school in the fall for political science, similar to the studies of my mother, I feel proud to be a first-generation student. Her vigor during her time in school, taking care of two kids, and working in our preschool motivated me to work twice as hard in my future career and endeavors.

6. Get it done! (Take action) I have always felt that the space I took up was more than I deserved. My personality, my voice, my laugh, and my body. As a woman, my size allowed me to stand out. But, a woman is meant to be small; to be feminine is to be small, and to be small is to be. However, I was nothing close to small. Being a person that always focused on personal growth, I knew my size was a “problem that needed to be fixed”. I thought I knew how only to realize I had no clue. Thus, I tried to do it on my terms. Every year from when I was 10 to when I was 15 was spent on desperate attempts to lose weight. Each time I tried a new diet, my family suddenly became dieticians, carefully watching what I would eat and how my time was spent; more importantly, if it was “well-spent”. If they noticed me eating before dinner, it was a side-eye. And if they caught me sleeping during the day, I was lazy. It took a lot of setbacks to realize that what I was doing was not working. Finally, after years of “bed workouts”, crash diets, and “calories in, calories out” approaches, I decided to research how to lose weight the right way; to rid myself of my “problem”. Although my research gave me a thorough understanding of exercise and nutrition, it also gave me a clear understanding of Carisma. Discipline became my best friend during my time of self-improvement. Monitoring my calories, not succumbing to urges, and trying to lose weight. I knew that moping over my predicament wouldn't get anything done, so I had to do it myself. I focused on reducing my size when I should have focused on expanding it. Over the past 6 months, I lost 60 pounds. When I first did the math and realized my accomplishment, I told my mother and seemingly felt proud. I imagined my 10-year-old self discovering the news, jumping for joy, and asking, “Are we skinny yet? Do people still feel threatened by us?” But after this introspection, the accomplishment felt less like one and more like a concession; a literal part of myself that I had given up for the sake of conformity. Along the way, along with the pounds shed and the meals skipped, I had diminished my personality, my voice, my laugh, and my body. Even though that was what I wanted, to not stick out, to simply “be”, I couldn’t reward myself for my accomplishment. I ask myself a lot of questions now. For example, “Am I healthier?” Sometimes I feel that way. Sometimes I feel like it’s easier to walk or jump. Like I can see the veins in my hands. Like I can cross my legs without discomfort. “Am I happier?” I’d like to think I am. It wasn’t just a weight off my body, but a weight off my shoulders. Not just the weight of the insults, weird looks, and bad nights, but also the weight of the disdain I felt towards myself in my younger years. I had become separated from her, the girl who boys would pretend to ask out and cry finding an outfit in the morning. I had become better than her; that was all I wanted to do.

I would say that my parents during high school beat me black and blue, but I think a more accurate representation would be black and yellow. Yellow is my mother, Tiffany’s favorite color. You can tell she’s feeling good if she wears an article of clothing with it. Whether a blouse, gold jewelry, slacks, or lipstick, yellow is a primary member of my mom’s wardrobe and appearance. But this color not only resides on her body, it also lives within. Yellow represents joy first and foremost, but its light hue portrays feelings of optimism, knowledge, and idealism. Tiffany, bright as the jewels my grandfather named her after, embodies these characteristics perfectly and preaches them to my entire family. “Don’t speak nothing wrong into existence” was her trademark phrase when I said I would fail an exam or do poorly on a project. Her optimism shined brightly throughout my four years of high school, and my academic success is mainly due to this. Black is my father, Paul’s favorite color. Black is simple. He can wear black pants, a black shirt, and a black pair of shoes every day. He might branch out and wear greys or greens but black is the color he returns to loyally. Although some may find the color black boring, black is reliable. You can wear black with any color and its strong, stoic presence in a design counteracts the more chaotic forces of say- a neon yellow. And like a plain black shirt, my dad Paul is deceptively simple. He doesn’t smile in photos, doesn’t say much to new people, and has a puzzled look on his face most of the time. But like a plain black shirt, when tried on and depending on the material, my dad can become your new favorite because of his warmth and fit. His nonchalant nature is due to him constantly thinking, and you’ll figure this out when you talk to him. Hardworking and consistent, my father personifies the color black. Despite their differences, my mother and father complement each other well; their respective colors intertwine to create black and yellow. Not just like the song by Wiz Khalifa, but like a honey bee, the most hardworking and noble insect. Like bees, my parents have the highest work ethic among their peers, and this habit was instilled in me at a very young age. But with the pressure of high school and college, I was almost beaten over the head with this expectation, leading to my ability never to settle and to keep improving. To be beaten black and yellow was a gift for me; a privilege many don’t experience. I’m lucky to have had such harsh parents to guide me and ensure my spot amongst other honey bees that were beaten black and yellow.