I’ve been involved in advocacy literally since I was born, dating back to trying to save a tiny house in Downtown Brooklyn. 227 Duffield Street was part of the Underground Railroad, but the city wanted to tear it down. My parents went to protests and politician meet-and-greets with me strapped to their fronts. I’ve learned that activism is not just about protests and posters but also collaboration and open communication. Much of my advocacy ties to this house. In fifth grade, I successfully petitioned my classmates to change the name of our school to Sarah Smith Garnet, the first Black woman principal in New York State who lived in the neighborhood, and better fit the school’s values. For years, with my Girl Scout Troop and my dad, we expanded on the petition, fighting to dedicate a monument in the park next to 227 Duffield to Garnet and four other trailblazing Black suffragists active in Downtown Brooklyn, but often left out of history because of their race. In eighth grade, I drew Garnet for a Black History Month school project to engage my peers. I used it as an opportunity to teach my classmates about her history and get them to sign a new petition for the monument to these “Sisters in Freedom.” I’ve always felt that it is important to know about and remember history— who shaped the neighborhoods, countries, and the world we live in today. Since 2019, my troop and I have been interviewed on TV, spoken out in Community Board hearings, started a petition that has 5,569 signatures, and more. People fought against us, but we persisted by continuing to spread awareness. One way we did this was by designing a GeoCache (digital navigational treasure-hunting) that contained 3D-printed chips with pictures and information about the women and placing it next to 227 Duffield. The fight shifted to a different organization, but I have stayed involved, and it’s still ongoing. It looks like there will be a new opportunity to build this monument, and even though I will be leaving Brooklyn in a few months, I will always feel tethered to the community and fight for the recognition of past community members. In these battles, I learned about the grueling city processes that it takes to make these changes. It never deterred me, though, and I won’t back down from any fights in the future.

It feels like I have always known that my future is in art. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I fell in love with it, but some factors stick out. The biggest factor was my Nagymama (grandmother in Hungarian) and family. Every time I would visit her and my dad’s side of the family in San Francisco, I would come home with piles of art supplies. I would spend half my time on those visits on playgrounds and the other half at the opera, ballet, and fine-arts museums. She hung my art on her wall from all of my phases, spanning from Kindergarten through tenth grade, next to the beautiful oil paintings and fine china from her life in Hungary. When I was seven years old, my dad brought home a graphic novel about Apollo that I absolutely fell in love with. I had been vaguely interested in reading before this book, but once I read it, I fell in love with books. It was how I could connect with my friends, my family, and the world. In middle school, I was able to major in art and really hone my skills. I took class after class that led me to my arts high school, where I currently major in art, as well. I was able to develop my skills further and realize my love for chalk pastels and watercolor illustration. My school really helped me realize that I love getting my hands messy when I make my art. With these new skills, I have started to bring to life characters and stories that drifted through my mind throughout my childhood and dream of putting them in graphic novel form, like the ones that brought me joy all those years ago. I want my work to affect kids the way other artists and authors have affected me. I would feel as though my life is fulfilled if at least one child falls in love with drawing and reading because of something that I created. To me, art has always meant connection. It connects me with my family, I have made and kept friends through it, and it connects me to the world. Art has helped me see and interpret the world and confront tough emotions. I see how art can be used to bring people together and create so much joy, and that is how I want to spend my life.

It feels like I have always known that my future is in art. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I fell in love with it, but some factors stick out. The biggest factor was my Nagymama (grandmother in Hungarian) and family. Every time I would visit her and my dad’s side of the family in San Francisco, I would come home with piles of art supplies. I would spend half my time on those visits on playgrounds and the other half at the opera, ballet, and fine-arts museums. She kept art from all of my phases, spanning Kindergarten through tenth grade, next to the beautiful oil paintings and fine china from her life in Hungary. When I was seven years old, my dad brought home a graphic novel about Apollo that I absolutely fell in love with. I had been vaguely interested in reading before this book, but once I read it, I fell in love with books. It was how I could connect with my friends, my family, and the world. In middle school, I was able to major in art and really hone my skills. I took class after class that led me to my arts high school, where I currently major in art, as well. I was able to develop my skills further and realize my love for chalk pastels and watercolor illustration. With these new skills, I have started to bring to life characters and stories that drifted through my mind throughout my childhood and dream of putting them in graphic novel form, like the ones that brought me joy all those years ago. I am also very passionate about activism. In fifth grade, it was brought to light by the school’s PTA that my elementary school was named after a hateful man from a slave owning family. Ten-year-old me thought this was outrageous, so I gathered signatures from students and teachers to rename it after Sarah Smith Garnet, the first Black woman principal in New York State. The petition was successful, and since then, I have felt a personal connection to her. My friends and I, influenced by my dad and his friends, worked together to spread awareness about Sarah Smith Garnet’s history. We fought to dedicate a monument in Downtown Brooklyn to her and four other prominent Black women of the nineteenth century. In eighth grade, I drew a portrait of Sarah Smith Garnet for a Black History Month school project to engage my peers and spark conversation. I used it as an opportunity to teach my classmates about her history and get them to sign a new petition for the monument to these “Sisters in Freedom.” More recently, I’ve shifted my focus to environmental activism (although it has always been a core value of mine). My high school artworks from daily studio classes incorporate natural elements and comment on conflicts between humans and our planet. I like to feature recurring themes of nature reclaiming human materials and humans interfering in nature. I want to make a positive impact on people and the planet by raising awareness about social and environmental issues, and I want my work to affect kids the way other artists and authors have affected me. I would feel as though my life is fulfilled if at least one child falls in love with drawing, reading, nature, or activism because of something that I created. I see how art can be used to bring people together and create so much joy, and that is how I want to spend my life.

Until last year, I hadn’t found a medium that really stuck with me. It wasn’t until the first project in my junior-year art class that I experimented with and fell in love with chalk pastels. Everybody in my class despised them. They thought they were too messy and too hard to use, but I found beauty in that. They reminded me of our freshman-year projects using charcoal, a medium I was also in the minority for enjoying. Everything just made sense when I used chalk pastels in a way that it didn’t when I used oil pastels or acrylics. I love to get my hands messy while making art. I love using my hands as their own tool. I love the way that they can be left blended or unblended, how they work together, and how much surface they can cover. Most of all, though, I love how it forces me to utilize colors. I love color. I could never imagine a monochrome life, and I love using color in my art. However, with painting and drawing from life, I always tried to match colors exactly to a reference because the mediums I would use made shade matching easy. The chalk pastels in my classroom, though, are very limited in palette range, and it is difficult to make colors look perfectly true to life. This difficulty allowed me to experiment with color, something I struggled to do with paints or colored pencils. I started that junior year project, taking a leaf out of the Impressionist’s book by not using any black. It was hard at first. There were only really three colors that were dark enough for shadows, and they were all cool-toned. I found, however, that using blue shadows on something like a red apple really made it pop out. It also added a sense of harmony because I could only use similar colors for differently colored objects. My favorite colors for highlights became a bright blue, pale pink, electric teal, and cream yellow, and I fell in love with velvety navy blue, forest green, and deep purple for shadows. It feels like I have always known that my future is in art. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I fell in love with it, but some factors stick out. The biggest factor was my Nagymama (grandmother in Hungarian) and family. Every time I would visit her and my dad’s side of the family in San Francisco, I would come home with piles of art supplies. I would spend half my time on those visits on playgrounds and the other half at the opera, ballet, and fine-arts museums. She kept art from all of my phases, spanning Kindergarten through tenth grade, next to the beautiful oil paintings and fine china from her life in Hungary. To me, art has always meant connection. It connects me with my family, I have made and kept friends through it, and it connects me to the world. Art has helped me see and interpret the world and confront tough emotions. I see how art can be used to bring people together and create so much joy, and that is how I want to spend my life.

I’ve been involved in advocacy literally since I was born, dating back to trying to save a tiny house in Downtown Brooklyn. 227 Duffield Street was part of the Underground Railroad, but the city wanted to tear it down. My parents went to protests and politician meet-and-greets with me strapped to their fronts, and when I got older, I spoke at City Council hearings and directly to politicians. I’ve learned that activism is not just about protests and posters but also collaboration and open communication. Much of my advocacy ties back to this house. In fifth grade, it was brought to light by the school’s PTA that my elementary school was named after a hateful man from a slave owning family. Ten-year-old me thought this was outrageous, so I gathered signatures from students and teachers to rename it after Sarah Smith Garnet, the first Black woman principal in New York State. She lived in the neighborhood of 227 Duffield and was an important contributor to New York history. The petition was successful, and since then, I have felt a personal connection to her. My friends and I, influenced by my dad and his friends, worked together to spread awareness about Sarah Smith Garnet’s history. For years, with my Girl Scout Troop, we built off my fifth-grade petition. We fought to dedicate a monument in the park next to 227 Duffield to Sarah Smith Garnet, Susan Smith McKinney, Ida B. Wells, Maritcha Lyons, and Victoria Earle Matthews. They were trailblazing black suffragists active in Downtown Brooklyn, but often left out of history because of their race. In eighth grade, I drew a portrait of Sarah Smith Garnet for a Black History Month school project to engage my peers and spark conversation. I used it as an opportunity to teach my classmates about her history and get them to sign a new petition for the monument to these “Sisters in Freedom.” I have always felt that it is important to know and remember history—who shaped the neighborhoods, countries, and the world we live in today. Since 2019, my troop and I have made informative videos, been interviewed on TV, spoken to City Council members, spoken out at Community Board hearings, attended and organized protests, and started a petition that currently has 5,569 signatures. People and groups were fighting against us, but we persisted by continuing to spread awareness. One way we did this was by designing a GeoCache (digital navigational treasure-hunting) and placing it next to 227 Duffield that contained 3D-printed chips with pictures and information about the women. While the fight has shifted to a different organization, I have stayed involved, and it is still very much ongoing. It looks like there will be a new opportunity to build this monument, and even though I will be leaving Brooklyn in a few months, I will always feel tethered to the community and fight for the recognition of past community members. In these battles, I learned about the grueling city processes required to make these changes. It never deterred me, though, and I won’t back down from any fights in the future.