As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. At the time, I understood that the law did not fully recognize me either. Little progressive bibliography reached my hands in high school. I clearly remember a teacher once told me, "here, we are not prepared for these things," like the violation of my human rights was inevitable. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears by informing myself. I learned Peru’s politicians exploit indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Same-sex relationships are legal. However, same-sex partners are not allowed to get married or adopt nor do they have the same legal protections as heterosexual households. Transexual Peruvians cannot change their sex on their Government ID and it is almost impossible for them to legally change their names. Conversion therapy is legal. Just four years ago, the law to protect LGBTQ+ Peruvians against discrimination was passed illustrating how little the Government values our community. In this year’s elections, only 2 of the 10 most popular candidates included LGBTQ+ Peruvians in their plans. Neither of them won and we are left as unprotected as always. This injustice inspired me to become a political activist and the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru. There, I concentrate my activism on LGBTQ+ rights. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. At the time, I understood that the law did not fully recognize me either. Little progressive bibliography reached my hands in high school. I clearly remember a teacher once told me, "here, we are not prepared for these things," like the violation of my human rights was inevitable. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears by informing myself. I learned Peru’s politicians exploit indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Same-sex relationships are legal. However, same-sex partners are not allowed to get married or adopt nor do they have the same legal protections as heterosexual households. Transexual Peruvians cannot change their sex on their Government ID and it is almost impossible for them to legally change their names. Conversion therapy is legal. Just four years ago, the law to protect LGBTQ+ Peruvians against discrimination was passed illustrating how little the Government values our community. In this year’s elections, only 2 of the 10 most popular candidates included LGBTQ+ Peruvians in their plans. Neither of them won and we are left as unprotected as always. It is this injustice that inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as the Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. There, I concentrate my activism on the environment and the LGBTQ+ community. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree in Global Studies and Political Science so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to learn how I can take my activism into the legal protection of human rights. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective guidelines that will enable Peru to change from a country that prioritizes corruption to one that holds human rights at its highest. I want to one day stand against the best Peruvian professionals and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

I learned I want to pursue an education so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights. As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown.

As a child, I understood my visibility as a queer Peruvian could cause me problems. My sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. At the time, I understood that the law did not fully recognize me either. Little progressive bibliography reached my hands in high school. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because I know the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears by becoming a political activist. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. That is my legacy.

Do not let fear silence you. As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I still fear being the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. At the time, I understood that the law did not fully recognize me either. Little progressive bibliography reached my hands in high school. I clearly remember a teacher once told me, "here, we are not prepared for these things," like the violation of my human rights was inevitable. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears by informing myself. I learned Peru’s politicians exploit indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Same-sex relationships are legal. However, same-sex partners are not allowed to get married or adopt nor do they have the same legal protections as heterosexual households. Transexual Peruvians cannot change their sex on their Government ID and it is almost impossible for them to legally change their names. Just four years ago, the law to protect LGBTQ+ Peruvians against discrimination was passed illustrating how little the Government values our community. In this year’s elections, only 2 of the 10 most popular candidates included LGBTQ+ Peruvians in their plans. Neither of them won and we are left as unprotected as always. This injustice inspired me to become a political activist and the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru. There, I concentrate my activism on LGBTQ+ rights. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

When I applied last year as a first-year student, I was completely unprepared for college in the US. I never had low grades in high school. However, UCLA destroyed every studying method I thought was good enough. I learned that my high school did not prepare me enough to allow me to succeed in university in another country, in my second language, and in a different educational system. I must admit I struggled at first at UCLA. I felt like a fraud because I worked three times harder than my peers and still did not get As during my midterms. Regardless, one thing I was prepared to do is to accept my failure and improve. I met with my Teaching Assistants and professors. I asked for suggestions on how I could better analyze the readings, how I could improve my writing skills, how I could improve my assignments for the finals. I took all of their advice and I got A+ in all of my finals. I have changed since I started college because now I am ready for college. I continue to have a passion for my major and the curiosity to learn. Now, I am also academically prepared for the challenge college will inevitably be. I do not think that I have all of the knowledge in the world. However, I am now aware of everything I need to learn as an international, low-income, and first-generation student. I now have the strategies to succeed in college. I am ready to work harder than everyone to learn everything my high school never taught me. I will continue to work three times harder than my peers but now I know how to use my time efficiently and take advantage of the resources around me. I no longer feel the need to get everything right at first. I admit I need help and I look for people who are willing to guide me. I am ready to go to office hours and ask every question I have. I am ready to be a college student. I have always dreamed to have the education my parents were never able to receive because I want to create change in my home country, Peru. Peru is a country that has the responsibility to protect one of the world’s biggest biodiversities yet it lets mining and oiling companies dump their toxic wastes in water sources. A large amount of Peruvians live under the line of poverty and do not have access to health care, sanitary infrastructure, or clean water. We have no LGBTQ+ rights or reproductive rights. It is frustrating to live in this situation and for Peruvians to not care. I am not willing to ignore violations of human rights. I want to study International Relations with a minor in Human Rights at Stanford so I can learn how I can take my activism into the legal protection of human rights. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective guidelines that will enable Peru to change from a country that prioritizes corruption to one that holds human rights at its highest. I want to one day stand against the best Peruvian professionals and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians, women, and indigenous communities deserve human rights. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

As a child, I understood my visibility as a queer Peruvian could cause me problems. My sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. At the time, I understood that the law did not fully recognize me either. Little progressive bibliography reached my hands in high school. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because I know the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping with these fears by becoming a political activist. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown.

Four years ago, I learned that being a leader means inspiring others to grow, be curious, and work together. I came to this conclusion when participating in Model United Nations conferences. Ironically, Model United Nations (MUN) often replicates the political manipulation that haunts our world nowadays. The Best Delegate Award and its trophy, the gavel, are frequently valued over intellectual growth. Many students have become too competitive and aggressive, even cheating or adopting dictatorial attitudes to win. Through my participation in these conferences, my goal has been to change this mindset and to allow MUN to fulfill its original purpose: to educate youth by teaching about past and current world issues while providing tools to develop soft skills. I started by changing my way of debating. I would constantly remind others that an award is only a consequence of good work, and it should never be the final objective. When I had the opportunity to lead my high school team as Head Delegate, I made sure to remind the girls on our team that they should win by their merit. As a consequence, our group of over 70 young women was recognized for diplomacy and fair play. We also won Best Large Delegation in almost every conference we attended, but this was just the result of our hard work. Even now, as the coach of the team, I make sure to reinforce these values and to make it clear that all students should treasure diplomacy and true plausible solutions over political backstabbing. I will never forget my first Best Delegate. After receiving the award, delegates who were considered my “biggest competition” congratulated me. I was beyond grateful. I achieved my goal: I won an award and delegates were happy for me, which, in my experience, is uncommon. However, it was stressful. Many delegates actively tried to sabotage other’s learning by giving incorrect information or deleting documents. Regardless, I was still able to live up to MUN’s value of academic learning. I spent hours teaching delegates in my committee procedures they were unfamiliar with. I spent nights helping my teammates with their committee issues. In the end, my team won a Best Large Delegation award. I’m proud of the accomplishment and that it belonged to all of us. These experiences lead me to a valuable lesson. I learned that leadership comes first with inner change. I could not simply expect others to change and learn by themselves. Therefore, I began with myself and led through example. This does not mean I was always perfect nor that from the beginning I followed my philosophy of valuing growth and learning over an award. I learned from my mistakes and showed and encouraged others to do the same. That is the power of leadership.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

As a child, I understood my sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. This made me afraid of being a queer Peruvian. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. I started coping through my activism. During last year’s pride month, parades and protests were canceled due to the pandemic. Consequently, we had to adapt and I organized a month of online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences and knowledge. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid transgender students from using their preferred names. Congresswomen shared how they are insulted every time they present a project to protect LGBTQ+ rights. A transgender lesbian who ran for congress shared how difficult it is to enter the political atmosphere. Even with all of these testimonies, comment sections were flooded with messages saying that the pandemic was God’s punishment for “the gays”. That is Peru and that is why I care and fight for this cause. Additionally, recently I helped develop Diversxs, a project that gives LGBTQ+ activists a platform to raise awareness and create campaigns to promote LGBTQ+ rights. This project has launched an LGBTQ+ dictionary and used art to raise awareness of the disappearances of transgender women during the lockdown. I am now pursuing an undergraduate degree so I can continue fighting for LGBTQ+ rights in Peru. I want to come back to Peru, stand against the best Peruvian professionals, and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians deserve human rights.

I am not a modern Socrates deconstructing arguments through questions. However, this time I asked my friends, “Why do you say she is a terrorist? That is a strong accusation.” This year, during Pride Month, at Amnesty, I organized a seminar with congresswoman Silva-Santiesteban. I found it hard to believe a person who values human rights above all would be considered a terrorist. “Because she supports MRTA”, a Peruvian terrorist group. I was astonished, so I read articles and realized my friends only read headlines. Silva-Santiesteban legally fought for the right to life of two surrendered terrorists who were extrajudicially executed. Additionally, while Silva-Santiesteban taught in the Peruvian women’s prison, she met a woman suspected to have managed a terrorist torture house (police never found proof, her sentence was because she rented said house). In an article, Silva-Satiesteban mentions the woman was not convicted of a violent crime, which journalists exploited. I disagree with those who exploit Peru’s trauma with terrorism to discredit certain ideologies. Through this conversation and my later findings, I learned the value of a “why” and listening. Listening and learning start with questions. Misinformation comes from answers without questions. If we do not inquire, we will simply accept others’ answers to others’ questions. That is how we can better learn the truth and uncover stereotypes and lies. Understanding the world that surrounds us and human behavior begins with guiding questions. As an LGTBQ+ activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a queer politician.

The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s emblematic dessert is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. While I ate, my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told me stories about Peruvian history, which taught me to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a queer woman in a very sexist and homophobic country, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima and working hard to plan ways to use my education to improve my country’s situation. I have always been proud of my identity, which is why I hate that Peru’s beauty is marred by our politicians, who sell out our soil for minerals and oil. Daily, politicians exploit indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. As a consequence, many Peruvians do not have access to basic human rights. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. Because of this, I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. As I informed myself to accomplish this goal, I understood that the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. Consequently, I decided to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. There, I fight for justice: respect and equality in human rights. I have a passion for protecting human rights in Peru. However, it kills me that in order to accomplish this, I need to leave Peru. I need the best education I can get if, as a queer woman, I want to stand against the best Peruvian professionals and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians, women, and indigenous communities deserve human rights. I am excited about my education but at the same time, I am terrified about moving to another country. In the US, I live under the shield of white privilege. I will never truly know what it is to be a person of color. Nevertheless, I moved to the US two weeks ago and I am already experiencing xenophobia. Government offices hang up every time I call and they hear my accent. I assume it is because they do not want to deal with the immigrant. This causes me to have thousands of questions unanswered and it makes it even harder to apply for scholarships for the public university I will be attending. This makes it harder to navigate college as a first-generation, low-income, and international student. I have to adapt to a new educational system that has no interest in helping me. UCLA has a US history General Education requirement. I will have to take a US History class, which is designed for American students who have had years of learning US History. There are no resources for me to catch up to my peers to pass my class. I will have to work twice as hard as anyone at UCLA, which is almost impossible while I work part-time to pay for my education. Following my passions will be hard. However, the lessons taught to me through Suspiro a la Limeña, give me the strength to persevere. My family’s recipe and diversity made me the passionate woman I am today. I will work hard to improve Peru for my family and all of the families that do not have the fortune I have to immigrate to the United States of America. I want to major in Global Studies to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. After college, I will be entering law school to study international law and learn how I can take my activism into the legal protection of human rights. I hope my activism and law education can help me better understand how I can write comprehensive laws to protect Peruvians. I want to be part of the solution to our world’s problems: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. Most importantly, I could not understand how other Peruvians were seemingly unaware of the situation. Daily, indigenous communities beg for climate policies to ears that are unwilling to hear. This inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. There, I participated in a project that enabled Amnesty to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even UN directors. Additionally, I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. As I promoted climate awareness, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find connections between academic disciplines to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors; others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. For example, knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed—through our feces—by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Examples like these fill our world. The need for interdisciplinary learning is especially true in Peru, where biodiversity and our ecosystem greatly influence development. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it.

As a child, I understood my visibility as a queer Peruvian could cause me problems. My sexual orientation made me vulnerable to violence, put me at risk, forced me to hide. One of the main reasons I decided not to study in Peru is because no Peruvian university has an LGBTQ+ Center, and no professor teaches about LGBTQ+ history. I clearly remember a teacher once told me: "here, we are not prepared for these things." He said this like the violation of my human rights was inevitable. This made me afraid. I must admit I am still afraid of what will happen if I am the victim of a hate crime because I know the Peruvian legal system will not protect me. I am afraid of having a girlfriend and not ever being able to legally share my life with her. However, for years I had so much more fear. If my mother knew I am queer, she would not pay for my education. Consequently, I used to invent excuses to avoid parties where a girl I liked went. I thought that would change my sexuality. Additionally, I went to a very homophobic and transphobic high school. A transgender friend was expelled because “it is a women’s only catholic school”. A bisexual friend was bullied by students and teachers after coming out. This made me, again, terrified of my sexuality. Inevitably, my grades were affected because I concentrated so much energy on hiding. I cope with these fears by taking action and volunteering at Amnesty International Peru. Due to the pandemic, pride parades and protests were canceled, but I helped organize several online webinars on LGBTQ+ rights. Several congresswomen and activists were invited to share their experiences. Peruvians finally heard the saddening reality queer Peruvians face. A transgender student shared that Peruvian universities forbid them from using their preferred names. A transgender lesbian who was running for congress explained how difficult it is for them to get into politics. Regardless of the impressive speakers and the heart-breaking stories, spectators commented that the pandemic was “God’s punishment for the gays”. In response to this, I helped develop Diversxs, a project that provided a platform for LGBTQ+ activists to raise awareness and create campaigns in favor of LGBTQ+ rights. Furthermore, through my education, I want to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. I want to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I want better laws and better people. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support create change, which is why I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current Peruvian authorities.

I want to study Global Studies to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior and our interactions with the world to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change. Consequently, I want to be part of the solution to our world’s problems: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. Ultimately, I will be part of a new generation of politicians who evaluate environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. As you can read, I am ambitious. However, to me, I am just a queer political activist who dreams to receive an education so she can come back to Peru and help my country improve. This scholarship would allow me to have an education so I can continue developing theoretically nuanced responses to human rights violations in Peru. Most importantly, this scholarship provides the opportunity to focus more on my studies. To me, every book I read, and every talk I have with a professor is a step closer to helping Peru. I may not be the richest nor the most intelligent person. But I am one of the most hard-working person you will meet I am happy to work and study at the same time if that means I can later help Peruvians live in a safe country. This task will not be easy, I know that. Regardless, I am happy to stay up late studying and thinking about new ways to improve my home country. This scholarship would give me the time to fantasize even more about the future Peru I will work hard to create. More importantly, this scholarship would allow me to go to law school so I can become a better future legislator. I need the best education I can get if I want to stand against the best Peruvian professionals and tell them they are wrong: LGBTQ+ Peruvians, women, and indigenous communities deserve human rights. I can only do that if I can pay universities for my education. Hopefully, by the time I go to Law School, I will get a part-time job through which I can continue to finance my education. I do not need charity, all I need is for you to take a chance on me because I know my dreams and I are worth it.

Every year my family visits the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology, and History of Peru. It became my tradition to wonder which visitors knew the exhibitions were stolen from native communities. Visitors transform into descendants of Chavín, Huarí, Nasca societies, who visit the museum to share their cultures and knowledge. But, every time I leave the museum, I remember this only exists in my mind. In reality, ignorance and apathy built Peru on a foundation of injustice. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. To avoid this, it is necessary to have better laws and better people. Otherwise, world leaders will continue to take advantage of indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Because of this, I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. As I informed myself to then accomplish this goal, I understood that the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. I want to major in Global Studies to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. After college, I will be entering law school to study international law and learn how I can take my activism into the legal protection of human rights. I hope my activism and law education can help me better understand how I can write comprehensive laws to protect Peruvians. The task I want to take (protect human rights in Peru) will be difficult and I would love to learn from the best professors in the US. I want to learn from my second home, the US, to help my first home, Peru, so I can enter Peru’s Diplomacy Academy. That way, I can be part of the promotion of documents like the Escazú Agreement and negotiate the protection of human rights in Latin America, especially Peru. I want to better understand human behavior and our interactions with the world to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change. Consequently, I want to be part of the solution to our world’s problems: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. Ultimately, I will be part of a new generation of politicians who evaluate environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy.

Every year my family visits the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology, and History of Peru. It became my tradition to wonder which visitors knew the exhibitions were stolen from native communities. Visitors transform into descendants of Chavín, Huarí, Nasca societies, who visit the museum to share their cultures and knowledge. But, every time I leave the museum, I remember this only exists in my mind. In reality, ignorance and apathy built Peru on a foundation of injustice. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. Consequently, I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. As I informed myself to then accomplish this goal, I understood that the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. This led me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. There, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find connections to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors, others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed - through our feces - by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Examples like these fill our world. However, politicians often disregard them. That is the problem with politicians. If you fail to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, you will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. I yearn to learn. What other odd connections are awaiting their discovery and how can I use them to develop theoretically nuanced responses to the problems that define our society? My search for answers is why I am pursuing an undergraduate degree. I want to study Global Studies and Sociology to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. Additionally, I want to better understand human behavior and our interactions with the world to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well written laws combined with public support creates change. Consequently, I want to be part of the solution to our world’s problems: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. Ultimately, I will be part of a new generation of politicians who evaluate environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy.

I am willing to bet that Machu Picchu is atop many American’s bucket lists. But they probably don’t know that Peru’s beauty is marred by our politicians, who sell out our soil for minerals and oil. Daily, politicians exploit indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. It is this injustice that inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. When lockdown began, I went from organizing the Women’s Day March and hosting human rights workshops, to looking for innovative activism campaigns. Now, I raise awareness through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, indigenous communities, and UN directors. I also facilitate international virtual dialogues between organizations and activists by creating events, contacting participants, and translating documents and speeches. I manage relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like Fridays For Future. I lead activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures for the ratification of the Escazú Agreement. Throughout the recent protests, I helped victims of police brutality and fought against laws that allowed power abuse. I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, and the situation of oppressed communities. Additionally, I will major in Global Studies and minor in Sociology work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. After college, I will study international law and enter Peru’s Diplomacy Academy. That way, I can be part of the promotion of documents like the Escazú Agreement and negotiate the protection of human rights in Latin America, especially Peru. I want to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. I want better laws and better people. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change. I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues in Peru that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I don’t expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires.

Four years ago, I learned that being a leader means inspiring others to grow, be curious, and work together. I came to this conclusion when participating in Model United Nations conferences. Ironically, Model United Nations (MUN) often replicates the political manipulation that haunts our world nowadays. A Best Delegate Award and its trophy, the gavel, are frequently valued over intellectual growth. Many students have become too competitive and aggressive, even cheating or adopting dictatorial attitudes in order to win. Through my participation in these conferences, my goal has been to change this mindset and to allow MUN to fulfill its original purpose: to educate youth by teaching about past and current world issues while providing tools to develop soft skills. I started by changing my own way of debating. I would constantly remind others that an award is only a consequence of good work, and it should never be the final objective. When I had the opportunity to lead my high school team as Head Delegate, I made sure to remind the girls on our team that they should win by their own merit. As a consequence, our group of over 70 young women was recognized for diplomacy and fair play. We also won Best Large Delegation in almost every conference we attended, but this was just the result of our hard work. Even now, as the coach of the team, I make sure to reinforce these values and to make it clear that all students should treasure diplomacy and true plausible solutions over political backstabbing. I will never forget my first Best Delegate. After receiving the award, delegates who were considered my “biggest competition” congratulated me. I was beyond grateful. I achieved my goal: I won an award and delegates were happy for me, which, in my experience, is uncommon. However, it was stressful. Many delegates actively tried to sabotage other’s learning by giving incorrect information or deleting documents. Regardless, I was still able to live up to MUN’s value of academic learning. I spent hours teaching delegates in my committee procedures they were unfamiliar with. I spent nights helping my teammates with their committee issues. In the end, my team won a Best Large Delegation award. I’m proud of the accomplishment and that it belonged to all of us. These experiences lead me to a valuable lesson. I learned that leadership comes first with inner change. I could not simply expect others to change and learn by themselves. Therefore, I began with myself and led through example. This does not mean I was always perfect nor that from the beginning I followed my philosophy of valuing growth and learning over an award. I learned from my mistakes and showed and encouraged others to do the same. Now, I use this lesson on leadership as I study to become a politician. I want to be educated because I want to learn from past mistakes and good practices so I can figure out how to help improve Peru. I will major in Global Studies and minor in Sociology work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. I want to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. I want better laws and better people. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change, which is why I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

My curiosity. Yearly, the wind carries sand from the Sahara Desert to the Amazon Rainforest and fertilizes the latter's soil. The deadliest place on Earth gives life to our planet’s lungs. This curious connection has inspired me ever since to have an interdisciplinary approach to politics. At Amnesty International, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find these connections to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors, others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. That is the problem with politicians. If you fail to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, you will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. This enlightened a path through which I led activism campaigns in Latin America and even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures for the ratification of the Escazú Agreement. I also facilitate international virtual negotiations and dialogs between organizations and activists by creating events, contacting participants, and translating documents and speeches. All to spread the idea that a politician and an activist must dedicate their life to learning. Only then we can have freedom, equality, and respect for each other and our world. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. We cannot protect the climate without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed - through our feces - by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Learning to not repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history, it includes politics, science, and every field. Politicians must adopt a vision that evaluates environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. I yearn to learn. What other odd connections are awaiting their discovery and how can I use them to develop theoretically nuanced responses to the problems that define our society?

In my experience, Peruvian food is much more than a delight for the palate. The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s “spiritual dessert” is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. My grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña united and inspired us. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. Nevertheless, the biggest lesson I learned was from the stories my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told us while we ate. She taught me to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a woman in a country still very sexist, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima, remembering the greatness that my house has seen, and planning ways in which I will use my education to improve my country’s situation. My grandmother and my identity inspired me to find that my path is to fight for social justice. I will major in Global Studies and minor in Sociology work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. I want to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. I want better laws and better people. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change. I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues in Peru that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I don’t expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my grandmother’s death. She was an indigenous Peruvian and a fashion and social equality activist. She moved to Lima to break century-long cycles of discrimination and become one of the greatest dressmakers in the country. She was my mentor. When she passed away, I was left with unfamiliar and uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, while wearing the last dress she made for me I realized she had left me an everlasting gift: my passionate nature. As I explored what my grandmother’s gift meant, I uncovered my father’s gift. Some years had passed since my father’s death. Ice cream trips no longer felt like a break from stress without him. My identity relied on his company. But, even in his absence, he is my personal cheerleader, constantly reminding me to follow my heart. His gift was opening a door for me to walk through: his American nationality. With that, I could follow my dreams. Just like on Christmas morning, you get gifts you don’t want. My mother’s family's economic situation kept her from studying her dream career. So, she decided to break this cycle and ensure I had a good job, one that would give me a “happy family”. However, her idea of my dream career and ideal life doesn’t match mine. Her idea of breaking a cycle only perpetuated it. For years, I simply sought her approval and adhered to her judgments and vision for my future. I was ready to erase my path and follow the one she drew for me. My mother’s gift was her preoccupation, but it fogged the view. Because of this, I had to learn to leave her gift behind and give myself another one: endurance and more value for my happiness. To drive and strive for improvement, as my grandmother showed me, showed me the joy and peace that breaking cycles and improving the world can bring. My parents’ model of perseverance enlightened this path of breaking cycles and opening new doors for myself and those around me. I want to live my own dreams instead of the ones that others chose for me. I will not let my challenges define me. Rather, I keep my problems and gifts as a constant reminder of whom I have become. After opening these gifts, true inspiration entered my life as soothingly as air during my first cleansing respiration. Since then, every regular breath I have taken has been to achieve my dreams and celebrate my own identity and values. Somehow, the odd mixture of hurtful and loving experiences shaped who I am today: a cycle breaker. My gifts showed me that even parts of my personal identity can be shared with others and uplift them. Every morning, my gifts motivate me to break Peru’s cycle of corruption and discrimination. My country needs to discover its own gifts, take in their first cleaning breath, and change its story to one of passion, equality, and development. My mission is to make that happen.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my grandmother’s death. She was an indigenous Peruvian and a fashion and social equality activist. She moved to Lima to break century-long cycles of discrimination and become one of the greatest dressmakers in the country. She was my mentor. When she passed away, I was left with unfamiliar and uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, while wearing the last dress she made for me I realized she had left me an everlasting gift: my passionate nature. As I explored what my grandmother’s gift meant, I uncovered my father’s gift. Some years had passed since my father’s death. Ice cream trips no longer felt like a break from stress without him. My identity relied on his company. But, even in his absence, he is my personal cheerleader, constantly reminding me to follow my heart. His gift was opening a door for me to walk through: his American nationality. With that, I could follow my dreams. Just like on Christmas morning, you get gifts you don’t want. My mother’s family's economic situation kept her from studying her dream career. So, she decided to break this cycle and ensure I had a good job, one that would give me a “happy family”. However, her idea of my dream career and ideal life doesn’t match mine. Her idea of breaking a cycle only perpetuated it. For years, I simply sought her approval and adhered to her judgments and vision for my future. I was ready to erase my path and follow the one she drew for me. My mother’s gift was her preoccupation, but it fogged the view. Because of this, I had to learn to leave her gift behind and give myself another one: endurance and more value for my happiness. To drive and strive for improvement, as my grandmother showed me, showed me the joy and peace that breaking cycles and improving the world can bring. My parents’ model of perseverance enlightened this path of breaking cycles and opening new doors for myself and those around me. I want to live my own dreams instead of the ones that others chose for me. I will not let my challenges define me. Rather, I keep my problems and gifts as a constant reminder of whom I have become. After opening these gifts, true inspiration entered my life as soothingly as air during my first cleansing respiration. Since then, every regular breath I have taken has been to achieve my dreams and celebrate my own identity and values. Somehow, the odd mixture of hurtful and loving experiences shaped who I am today: a cycle breaker. My gifts showed me that even parts of my personal identity can be shared with others and uplift them. Every morning, my gifts motivate me to break Peru’s cycle of corruption and discrimination. My country needs to discover its own gifts, take in their first cleaning breath, and change its story to one of passion, equality, and development. My mission is to make that happen.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. Most importantly, I could not understand how other Peruvians were seemingly unaware of the situation. Daily, indigenous communities beg for climate policies to ears that are unwilling to hear. As most people who care for the environment, I followed certain climate-aware practices: I avoided unnecessary use of plastic, I recycled as much as I could, I did not waste water, and I bought sustainable products. However, my “contribution” ended there. I did not take action outside of changing my own habits, and I simply waited for politicians themselves to fix our environment. At this moment, I changed my mindset and began creating the change I want to see on my own. This inspired me to become a political activist. At Amnesty International Peru, I recently regained hope regarding awareness of climate change amongst Peruvians. I participated in a project that enabled Amnesty to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. Additionally, I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. I will no longer just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it.

Race boxes always give me anxiety. I usually get Asian, Native American, Black, Pacific Islander, and White. I am none of these. Even the Hispanic/Latinx box doesn’t feel right. My identity is a mixture of cultures and races. I am a US citizen, but I was born and raised in Peru, which allowed me to discover diversity through Peruvian cuisine. In my experience, Peruvian food is much more than a delight for the palate. The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s “spiritual dessert” is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. Nevertheless, the biggest lesson I learned was from the stories my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told us while we ate. I was taught to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a woman in a country still very sexist, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima, remembering the greatness that my house has seen, and planning ways in which I will use my education to improve my country’s situation. One by one most members of my family have passed away. Yet, my sister, my mother, and I still preserve the traditions inspired by the completion of the recipe of my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. Most importantly, I could not understand how other Peruvians were seemingly unaware of the situation. Daily, indigenous communities beg for climate policies to ears that are unwilling to hear. As most people who care for the environment, I followed certain climate-aware practices: I avoided unnecessary use of plastic, I recycled as much as I could, I did not waste water, and I bought sustainable products. However, my “contribution” ended there. I complained about policies but did nothing for the advancement of climate policies and the protection of our biodiversity. I did not take action outside of changing my own habits, and I simply waited for politicians themselves to fix our environment. In fact, I realized this was the situation of most Peruvians: they are all concerned about pollution but are unwilling to fight for a drastic change in policies. At this moment, I came to the realization that I changed my mindset and began creating the change I want to see on my own. This inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. At Amnesty, I recently regained hope regarding awareness of climate change amongst Peruvians. I participated in a project that enabled Amnesty to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. Additionally, I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. As I promoted climate awareness, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find connections between academic disciplines to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors; others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed—through our feces—by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Examples like these fill our world. However, politicians often disregard them. That is the problem with politics and why we have not yet achieved the United Nations’s Sustainable Development Goals. If a politician fails to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves out, they will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. Learning not to repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history; it includes politics, science, and every field. Only then can we have freedom, equality, and respect for each other and our world. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. I will no longer just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it.

For years, I have struggled with my mental health. It is a taboo topic in my home, and I never received support. Consequently, I was never able to go to therapy, which made it harder for me. However, I like to think of myself as a resourceful and resilient person. And, this was not an exception. I tried almost everything: drawing on my walls to remind me of happy memories, having breakfast with friends almost daily, and even aromatherapy. None of them worked as well as just having a healthy life. My daily routine is simple, nothing too complicated but it motivates me to keep going. I start my day by making my bed. Then, I make myself breakfast: a smoothie bowl and a juice. This gives me the energy I need to ride my bike. I spend around two hours ridding around Lima. It is relaxing to feel the air on my face and just move my body. I go to the pier daily, sit for a few minutes, watch the ocean, and drink water (I learned the bad way that I need to be extremely hydrated if I wish to ride under Peru’s sun). After this, I go back home, where I do around thirty minutes of yoga in my bedroom. Finally, after finishing, I take the most relaxing shower. My morning routine takes away any stress I may have. It prevents me from overthinking and ending in a spiral that hurts my mental health. Exercising keeps my body and mind healthy. It is not simply about moving my body but about the journey. Leaving my house and admiring Lima’s streets is incredibly good for me. Even when I do yoga in my bedroom, it relaxes me and gives me the serotonin I need to start my day. Exercise has truly saved me from my own mind and I am extremely grateful I found this resource.

Throughout our lives, we are constantly told that our goal in life should be to have a legacy. we are said we should go to college to leave a legacy, or to protect our parents’ legacies. My experience was no different. Because of my passionate nature, I have always been expected to one day start a peaceful ceasefire like Gandhi or invent the ocean cleanup system like Boyan Slat. Great expectations have always awaited me when it came to my legacy. However, for me, having a legacy simply means inspiring change beyond ourselves. I do not expect to single-handedly end global hunger or pollution. I just want to be part of improving our world and motivate others to do so too. My interpretation of the word “legacy” is different from the conventional one. I believe we do not need to win a Nobel Prize for our legacies to be valuable. The world does not need to remember us in history books for our legacies to inspire change. A legacy can simply be to inspire our children to fight for righteousness. A legacy can have a direct impact on a single person or thousand. There is not a unique formula for how a legacy should be like or an award that can validate your legacy. What all legacies do have in common is that they are all processes. We will never wake up with a legacy. No adolescent should ever feel pressure to already have a legacy. At my age, people should just feel a responsibility to start their journey towards a legacy. Hard work, passion, and responsibility are crucial for this. Most importantly, we must internalize that it takes time to develop a legacy. Recently, I have started my journey towards a legacy of inspiring change. I have found that my path in life is to strive for social justice. But more importantly, that path has a roadmap. In high school, I eagerly wanted to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. So I joined Amnesty International Peru because the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. I fight for justice: respect and equality in human rights. During Peru’s recent protests, I have helped victims of police brutality fight against laws that allow abuse of power. I raise awareness about human rights through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and UN directors. I lead activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement. I want better laws and better people. Otherwise, world leaders will continue to take advantage of indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. This brings me back to my education. I want to study International Relations and Sociology to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. After college, I will study international law and enter Peru’s Diplomacy Academy. That way, I can be part of the promotion of documents like the Escazú Agreement and negotiate the protection of human rights in Latin America, especially Peru. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well-written laws combined with public support creates change, which is why I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. That is the legacy I am working on leaving, and I am excited to begin.

Race boxes always give me anxiety. I usually get Asian, Native American, Black, Pacific Islander, and White. I am none of these. Even the Hispanic/Latinx box doesn’t feel right. My identity is a mixture of cultures and races. I am a US citizen, but I was born and raised in Peru, which allowed me to discover diversity through Peruvian cuisine. In my experience, Peruvian food is much more than a delight for the palate. The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s “spiritual dessert” is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. Nevertheless, the biggest lesson I learned was from the stories my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told us while we ate. I was taught to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a woman in a country still very sexist, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima, remembering the greatness that my house has seen, and planning ways in which I will use my education to improve my country’s situation. One by one most members of my family have passed away. Yet, my sister, my mother, and I still preserve the traditions inspired by the completion of the recipe of my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña. On my end, I preserve the values taught by my family's diversity through my education. I will major in Global Studies and minor in Sociology work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. After college, I will study international law and enter Peru’s Diplomacy Academy. That way, I can be part of the promotion of documents like the Escazú Agreement and negotiate the protection of human rights in Latin America, especially Peru.

If I had to choose a theme song for my childhood, it would be You Are My Sunshine. Every night, my father would sing this lullaby to me and my twin sister while my mother played the piano. My first exposure to music led me to become fascinated by how everything, even seasons and time, can be sensed through melodies. I now think of music as a way to relax my mind and feed my curiosity. I started by following my mother’s steps, who was once part of the Peruvian National Conservatory of Music, by playing Für Elise on the piano with my sister and letting the tunes hypnotize us with every note. Through this, I became intrigued by the science of music, especially by the neural connections developed with musical stimulation, which can enhance human interaction. I furthered this discovery when I was the first chair in my high school’s flute section of the orchestra and saw my friends develop learning and social skills through music. When the Sinfonía por el Perú orchestra chose me to lead the flute and piccolo section, I was elated. But what surprised me about that experience was that I witnessed people from all social classes and races come together. Normally, classism and discrimination split Peruvians apart. Nevertheless, our passion for music was powerful enough to break all barriers. We would daily spend 4 hours practicing, through which I learned about different situations in impoverished areas in Peru. These talented musicians taught me an important lesson: nothing must come between you and your aspirations. With them, I improved my skills from a high school level to a pre-professional one. Even though I initially felt insecure about my talent as a flute player, looking back I realize I had no reason to feel that way. My performances at the Peruvian national stadium and at the Pan-American games are proof.

My family has is perfect. At least that is what we project. In reality, we are very damaged but we always managed to solve our problems because of the great affection we had for each other. However, after my father’s death in 2011, we hit a rock that completely blocked our view of life. I became to blame God a lot for my father’s death. This increased every time someone said God had chosen a new angel to protect me. My anger because I did not want an angel, I wanted a hug from my father. My mother always said God gives the strongest battles to His strongest soldiers. I would foolishly answer “I don’t want to be one of God’s strongest soldiers. God should forget about me and leave me to live in peace”. Gladly, God never forgot about me, however, I did. I isolated myself and escaped into my own world. During these times, my relationship with my mother deteriorated, which hurt me because, as a child, we were very close. I felt like an outsider in my own home. When we went out, my mother and my sister walked together while I was left behind. I did not approach them out of fear that they would once again destroy me with words and make me cry. There came a point in my life at which I was almost thrown out of my home after an argument with my mother. It was then that I began asking myself, “if my mother doesn’t love me, then who would? And, is it even worth it to live if I’m incapable of being loved? That is when I fell down a never-ending hole: depression. I forgot who I was and began hurting myself deeply. I still have scars that remind me of it. My reality remained unchanged for two years until God sent me two people to which I literally owe my life. They were my backbone and helped me realize my value. These people became my Godparents for my Confirmation ceremony. They showed me that I was indeed capable of being loved, not only by them, but by God, Jesus, and the Virgin Mary. Through them, I learned that the strongest force in the universe is love and God will never run out of love for me. I now know that one can only grow if we believe we can. I am enough and God, Jesus, and Mary have always seen that. They know your heart, see your soul, and love you for it. I learned the hard way that I am perfect, unique, and a gift of God. Every person is in my life to shine a path towards seeing myself just how Jesus does. It is sometimes still hard to maintain a clear view of God’s path. I’m still not able to explain my whole relationship with my mother without crying. It still hurts immensely. However, I no longer let the opinion of people define. I learned to see life through God’s lenses and I cannot stop being grateful for the gifts He sent me, or as you may call them, my Godparents, my friends, and my family. My life has never been perfect but I will again destroy 2 relationships in my life: my relationship with myself and my relationship with Jesus. I am of those people that will constantly tell those around me that they are worth more than all of the gold in the world. I always remind those around me how beautiful they are because I know how the world may let us forget about it. God always tries to tell you that you are a gift and I make sure to be a means to share this message.

For years, my biggest aspiration was to one day wake up in another life. I felt alone in a house where my twin sister and my mother locked themselves in my mother’s room to avoid me. I convinced myself that if my family did not love me, nobody would. This transformed into a fear of showing my true self. So I masked, became someone else. I learned how to fake being in love, happy, confident, and much more. I coped by drawing stars. Yellow meant I had a good day. Purple reminded me I did not allow myself to feel any real emotion. Green meant I felt pain but could not explain why. Finally, blue represented the hardest days. There was a time in which I thought I could only ever draw blue stars. During these days, all of my strength was used to hold on to the one yellow star I had and keep going. After meeting my now godmother, my room became more and more yellow. I found strength in her. Regardless of my issues, she loved me. Her company took away my fear. Because of her, I started showing people my vulnerability and struggles. To my surprise, I received enormous love and support from those around me. To me, keep going now means I can learn from my struggles with mental health. I learned Life taught me how to fall a million times. I have learned that our job is to teach life how we can and will rise every time. Consequently, I help those around me to find strength to prioritize their mental health. Whether it is talking or just sitting in silence, I am there for those who need me. I am also an advocate for education on mental health. No one should be ashamed or feel that because they struggle with mental health they are not worth the fight. Consequently, with Amnesty International, I give talks in high schools to raise awareness and help others. My goal is for those around me to feel safe.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my father’s death. Without him, I felt alone in a house where my twin sister and my mother locked themselves in my mother’s room to avoid me. I began to tell myself that if my family did not love me, then who would. That thought lurked in the corner of my mind throughout every conversation I had. For years, my biggest aspiration in life was to one day wake up in another body, with another story and different people at my side. Those around me made me fearful of life. So, I needed another chance at living. I was convinced that a new start would take away my insecurities. Maybe I could change and then everyone would love me. This transformed into a fear of showing people my true self. I was convinced no one would like me if I did so. So I masked, became someone else. I learned how to fake being in love, happy, confident, and much more. The second event was when my middle school noticed alterations in my attitude. Consequently, they required me to take family therapy if I wished to continue attending this institute the following year. Unfortunately, this worsened my situation. Every therapy session, I heard my mother say how I was to blame for the issues in my home, and thus, I was not worth the fight. This experience convinced my mother that therapy was a waste of money and depression and anxiety only meant a cry for attention. Consequently, I had to continue my battle with mental health on my own. My coping mechanism was to transform my room into a galaxy. I drew stars daily. Yellow stars meant I had a good day. Purple stars reminded me I had a numb day in which I did not allow myself to feel any real emotion. Green stars meant I cried and felt sad but could not explain why. Finally, blue stars represented the hardest days. All of my strength was used during blue days to find ways to keep going. There was a time in which it seemed like I could only draw blue stars. However, I held strongly to the one yellow star I had. It was not easy, there were days in which I did not see how I could continue fighting. One day, after meeting my now godmother, my room became more and more yellow. I found strength in her. I could be vulnerable, show her my flaws. Regardless of my trauma, she stayed and continued to love me. Her company took away my fears. I can be myself around her and she cares for who I am. Because of her, one day at a time I decided to stop faking emotions. I started showing people how vulnerable I am and the struggles I go through. To my surprise, I received enormous love from those around me. I lost some friends but I also strengthened relationships that now keep me alive. I see these moments in my life as seconds in which I held my breath while I gathered the strength to take my first cleansing breath. My experiences have made me strong, perseverant, and passionate. Trying my best now means I can take the pain and learn from it. I learned that I am not defined by an adjective someone describes me with, but rather what I can see in the mirror. Life taught me how to fall a million times. I have learned that our job is to teach life how we can and will rise every time. Consequently, I help those around me to come to the same realization. I am an open book, a source for people to look for a companion and answers. Whether it is talking or just sitting in silence, I am there for those who need me. I am also an advocate for education on mental health. No one should be ashamed or feel that because they struggle with mental health they are not worth the fight. Consequently, with Amnesty International, I give talks in high schools to raise awareness and help others. I want those around me to feel safe enough to take in their first cleansing breath.

For years, my biggest aspiration in life was to one day wake up in another body, with another story and different people at my side. Those around me made me fearful of life. So, I needed another chance at living. I was convinced that a new start would take away my insecurities. Maybe I could change and then everyone would love me. I felt alone in a house where my twin sister and my mother locked themselves in my mother’s room to avoid me. I began to tell myself that if my family did not love me, then who would. That thought lurked in the corner of my mind throughout every conversation I had. This transformed into a fear of showing people my true self. I was convinced no one would like me if I did so. So I masked, became someone else. I learned how to fake being in love, happy, confident, and much more. My middle school noticed alterations in my attitude. Consequently, they required me to take family therapy if I wished to continue attending this institute the following year. Unfortunately, this worsened my situation. Every therapy session, I heard my mother say how I was to blame for the issues in my home, and thus, I was not worth the fight. This experience convinced my mother that therapy was a waste of money and depression and anxiety only meant a cry for attention. Consequently, I had to continue my battle with mental health on my own. My coping mechanism was to transform my room into a galaxy. I drew stars daily. Yellow stars meant I had a good day. Purple stars reminded me I had a numb day in which I did not allow myself to feel any real emotion. Green stars meant I cried and felt sad but could not explain why. Finally, blue stars represented the hardest days. All of my strength was used during blue days to find ways to keep going. There was a time in which it seemed like I could only draw blue stars. However, I held strongly to the one yellow star I had. It was not easy, there were days in which I did not see how I could continue fighting. One day, after meeting my now godmother, my room became more and more yellow. I found strength in her. I could be vulnerable, show her my flaws. Regardless of my trauma, she stayed and continued to love me. Her company took away my fears. I can be myself around her and she cares for who I am. Because of her, one day at a time I decided to stop faking emotions. I started showing people how vulnerable I am and the struggles I go through. To my surprise, I received enormous love from those around me. I lost some friends but I also strengthened relationships that now keep me alive. These experiences have made me strong, perseverant, and passionate. Trying my best now means I can take the pain and learn from it. I learned that I am not defined by an adjective someone describes me with, but rather what I can see in the mirror. Life taught me how to fall a million times. I have learned that our job is to teach life how we can and will rise every time. Consequently, I help those around me to come to the same realization. I am an open book, a source for people to look for a companion and answers. Whether it is talking or just sitting in silence, I am there for those who need me. I show those around me that mental health issues are a reality and we should not be ashamed of it. I am also an advocate for education on mental health. No one should be ashamed or feel that because they struggle with mental health they are not worth the fight. Consequently, with Amnesty International, I give talks in high schools to raise awareness and help others. I want those around me to feel safe.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my father’s death. Without him, I felt alone in a house where my twin sister and my mother locked themselves in my mother’s room to avoid me. I began to tell myself that if my family did not love me, then who would. That thought lurked in the corner of my mind throughout every conversation I had. For years, my biggest aspiration in life was to one day wake up in another body, with another story and different people at my side. Those around me made me fearful of life. So, I needed another chance at living. I was convinced that a new start would take away my insecurities. Maybe I could change and then everyone would love me. This transformed into a fear of showing people my true self. I was convinced no one would like me if I did so. So I masked, became someone else. I learned how to fake being in love, happy, confident, and much more. The second event was when my middle school noticed alterations in my attitude. Consequently, they required me to take family therapy if I wished to continue attending this institute the following year. Unfortunately, this worsened my situation. Every therapy session, I heard my mother say how I was to blame for the issues in my home, and thus, I was not worth the fight. This experience convinced my mother that therapy was a waste of money and depression and anxiety only meant a cry for attention. Consequently, I had to continue my battle with mental health on my own. My coping mechanism was to transform my room into a galaxy. I drew stars daily. Yellow stars meant I had a good day. Purple stars reminded me I had a numb day in which I did not allow myself to feel any real emotion. Green stars meant I cried and felt sad but could not explain why. Finally, blue stars represented the hardest days. All of my strength was used during blue days to find ways to keep going. There was a time in which it seemed like I could only draw blue stars. However, I held strongly to the one yellow star I had. It was not easy, there were days in which I did not see how I could continue fighting. One day, after meeting my now godmother, my room became more and more yellow. I found strength in her. I could be vulnerable, show her my flaws. Regardless of my trauma, she stayed and continued to love me. Her company took away my fears. I can be myself around her and she cares for who I am. Because of her, one day at a time I decided to stop faking emotions. I started showing people how vulnerable I am and the struggles I go through. To my surprise, I received enormous love from those around me. I lost some friends but I also strengthened relationships that now keep me alive. I see these moments in my life as seconds in which I held my breath while I gathered the strength to take my first cleansing breath. My experiences have made me strong, perseverant, and passionate. Trying my best now means I can take the pain and learn from it. I learned that I am not defined by an adjective someone describes me with, but rather what I can see in the mirror. Life taught me how to fall a million times. I have learned that our job is to teach life how we can and will rise every time. Consequently, I help those around me to come to the same realization. I am an open book, a source for people to look for a companion and answers. Whether it is talking or just sitting in silence, I am there for those who need me. I am also an advocate for education on mental health. No one should be ashamed or feel that because they struggle with mental health they are not worth the fight. Consequently, with Amnesty International, I give talks in high schools to raise awareness and help others. I want those around me to feel safe enough to take in their first cleansing breath.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. Most importantly, I could not understand how other Peruvians were seemingly unaware of the situation. Daily, indigenous communities beg for climate policies to ears that are unwilling to hear. As most people who care for the environment, I followed certain climate-aware practices: I avoided unnecessary use of plastic, I recycled as much as I could, I did not waste water, and I bought sustainable products. However, my “contribution” ended there. I complained about policies but did nothing for the advancement of climate policies and the protection of our biodiversity. I did not take action outside of changing my own habits, and I simply waited for politicians themselves to fix our environment. In fact, I realized this was the situation of most Peruvians: they are all concerned about pollution but are unwilling to fight for a drastic change in policies. At this moment, I came to the realization that I had to change my mindset and begin creating the change I want to see on my own. This inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. At Amnesty, I recently regained hope regarding awareness of climate change amongst Peruvians. I participated in a project that enabled Amnesty to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. Additionally, I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. As I promoted climate awareness, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find connections between academic disciplines to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors; others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed—through our feces—by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Examples like these fill our world. However, politicians often disregard them. That is the problem with politics and why we have not yet achieved the United Nations’s Sustainable Development Goals. If a politician fails to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves out, they will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. Learning not to repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history; it includes politics, science, and every field. Only then can we have freedom, equality, and respect for each other and our world. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. I will no longer just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step to make Peru the diversity safe haven the world admires. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it.

Race boxes always give me anxiety. I usually get Asian, Native American, Black, Pacific Islander, and White. I am none of these. Even the Hispanic/Latinx box doesn’t feel right. My identity is a mixture of cultures and races. I am a US citizen, but I was born and raised in Peru, which allowed me to discover diversity through Peruvian cuisine. In my experience, Peruvian food is much more than a delight for the palate. The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s “spiritual dessert” is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. Nevertheless, the biggest lesson I learned was from the stories my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told us while we ate. I was taught to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a woman in a country still very sexist, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima, remembering the greatness that my house has seen, and planning ways in which I will use my education to improve my country’s situation. One by one most members of my family have passed away. Yet, my sister, my mother, and I still preserve the traditions inspired by the completion of the recipe of my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña.

If I had to choose a theme song for my childhood, it would be You Are My Sunshine. Every night, my father would sing this lullaby to me and my twin sister while my mother played the piano. My first exposure to music led me to become fascinated by how everything, even seasons and time, can be sensed through melodies. I now think of music as a way to relax my mind and feed my curiosity. I started by following my mother’s steps, who was once part of the Peruvian National Conservatory of Music, by playing Für Elise on the piano with my sister and letting the tunes hypnotize us with every note. Through this, I became intrigued by the science of music, especially by the neural connections developed with musical stimulation, which can enhance human interaction. I furthered this discovery when I was the first chair in my high school’s flute section of the orchestra and saw my friends develop learning and social skills through music. When the Sinfonía por el Perú orchestra chose me to lead the flute and piccolo section, I was elated. But what surprised me about that experience was that I witnessed people from all social classes and races come together. Normally, classism and discrimination split Peruvians apart. Nevertheless, our passion for music was powerful enough to break all barriers. We would daily spend 4 hours practicing, through which I learned about different situations in impoverished areas in Peru. These talented musicians taught me an important lesson: nothing must come between you and your aspirations. With them, I improved my skills from a high school level to a pre-professional one. Even though I initially felt insecure about my talent as a flute player, looking back I realize I had no reason to feel that way. My performances at the Peruvian national stadium and at the Pan-American games are proof.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. However, I recently regained hope when I participated in a project with Amnesty International Peru that enabled us to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it. However, I will not just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. Studying international politics will enable me to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

My identity is a mixture of cultures and races. I am a US citizen, but I was born and raised in Peru, which allowed me to discover diversity through Peruvian cuisine. In my experience, Peruvian food is much more than a delight for the palate. The complexity of the diverse Peruvian cuisine reflects the variety of situations Peruvians experience, and in particular, the dynamics in our very diverse homes. As I like to say, my family’s “spiritual dessert” is Suspiro a la Limeña, and that is why my grandmother made sure that it was always present on our table. To start, Suspiro a la Limeña has a base of manjarblanco, the Peruvian take on the famous Argentinean Dulce de Leche. Similarly, my mother was born in Argentina but lived most of her life in Peru, and she taught my sister and me about both cultures and values profoundly. My mother was raised by a Spanish descendant and an indigenous Peruvian who broke all social constructs for love. Through my grandfather, European tradition was added to the mix, just like the Italian meringue on Suspiro a la Limeña. My American father completed the recipe when he moved to Peru to raise a family with my mother. Altogether, European, Peruvian, Argentinian, and American traditions came together in one diverse and wonderful household. Every time I tasted my grandmother’s Suspiro a la Limeña, it reminded my sister and me of our home’s cultural mixture. Nevertheless, the biggest lesson I learned was from the stories my grandmother, a fashion and social activist, told us while we ate. I was taught to create good outcomes out of tragic situations. Every Peruvian plate is a chapter in the story of a country that from colonization, slavery and discrimination found safe havens in kitchens. Thus, every time I find myself frustrated as a woman in a country still very sexist, I go back to Suspiro a la Limeña and figure out what good I can create from that bad experience. I do this by sitting at the same table my grandmother did when she first came to Lima, remembering the greatness that my house has seen, and planning ways in which I will use my education to improve my country’s situation. My identity has inspired me to want to better societal behaviors to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

If I had to choose a theme song for my childhood, it would be You Are My Sunshine. Every night, my father would sing this lullaby to me and my twin sister while my mother played the piano. My first exposure to music led me to become fascinated by how everything, even seasons and time, can be sensed through melodies. I now think of music as a way to relax my mind and feed my curiosity. I started by following my mother’s steps, who was once part of the Peruvian National Conservatory of Music, by playing Für Elise on the piano with my sister and letting the tunes hypnotize us with every note. Through this, I became intrigued by the science of music, especially by the neural connections developed with musical stimulation, which can enhance human interaction. I furthered this discovery when I was the first chair in my high school’s flute section of the orchestra and saw my friends develop learning and social skills through music. When the Sinfonía por el Perú orchestra chose me to lead the flute and piccolo section, I was elated. But what surprised me about that experience was that I witnessed people from all social classes and races come together. Normally, classism and discrimination split Peruvians apart. Nevertheless, our passion for music was powerful enough to break all barriers. We would daily spend 4 hours practicing, through which I learned about different situations in impoverished areas in Peru. These talented musicians taught me an important lesson: nothing must come between you and your aspirations. With them, I improved my skills from a high school level to a pre-professional one. Even though I initially felt insecure about my talent as a flute player, looking back I realize I had no reason to feel that way. My performances at the Peruvian national stadium and at the Pan-American games are proof. Today, I continue to perform because I want to share the values and lessons music taught me. I am convinced that music is the best tool to share feelings and connect with people, especially between groups that may otherwise not interact. Music brings societies together, moving away from pre-convinced judgments some may have. My experience proved this to be right. This is why I am so passionate about music and I share it with all of those in my environment.

Every year my family visits the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology, and History of Peru. It became my tradition to wonder which visitors knew the exhibitions were stolen from native communities. Visitors transform into descendants of Chavín, Huarí, Nasca societies, who visit the museum to share their cultures and knowledge. But, every time I leave the museum, I remember this only exists in my mind. In reality, ignorance and apathy built Peru on a foundation of injustice. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. To avoid this, it is necessary to have better laws and better people. Otherwise, world leaders will continue to take advantage of indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Because of this, I am determined to inform Peruvians about topics like forced disappearances, police brutality, the denial of the right to health during a pandemic, climate change, LGBTIQ+ rights, and the situation of indigenous communities. As I informed myself to then accomplish this goal, I understood that the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. This inspired me to become a political activist as the first underage member of Amnesty International Peru, working as Youth Coordinator and Activism Volunteer. There, I fight for justice: respect and equality in human rights. Implementing measures has not been easy this year. When quarantine began, I went from organizing the Women’s Day march and giving human rights workshops, to looking for innovative activism campaigns. Now, I raise awareness through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and UN directors. I also facilitate international virtual negotiations and dialogs between organizations and activists by creating events, contacting participants, and translating documents and speeches. However, my most important work is with climate change, as I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” I have led activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures for the ratification of the Escazú Agreement. Through the recent protests in Peru, I have helped victims of police brutality and fought against laws that allowed power abuse. At Amnesty International, while I followed my goals, I made a new discovery. Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find connections to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors, others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. The problem with politicians is most do not consider connections like this. If you fail to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, you will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. The need for interdisciplinary learning is especially true in Peru, where biodiversity and our ecosystem greatly influence development. This is why as a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. Through my activism and education, to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. Additionally, I want to better understand human behavior and our interactions with the world to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well written laws combined with public support creates change. Consequently, I want to be part of the solution to our world’s problems: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. Ultimately, I will be part of a new generation of politicians who evaluate environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy.

To write this, I had to plug in my earbuds. In the room next to mine, my sister watches the tape of a concert by Blank Pink. It would be rude for me to stop her from joyfully singing, dancing, and yelling. But what can I do with the assignments I have due? How can I write a paper on the Tigray crisis when Blank Pink sings their third song of the night? Covid-19 has completely changed my habits. In situations like the one I am in right now, I have to adapt to not having a silent space to study. Regardless, I am at least happy I can now have access to a computer. When the pandemic came to Peru, my family shared a single computer. My sister and I made homework possible through my high school’s library computers. While my sister had band practice, I stayed after hours in school, taking advantage of the library to make my homework. However, during Peru’s complete lockdown, I did not have a library to go to. This was especially hard as I applied to college and my sister had online classes. Obviously, she had a priority when it came to the computer. So, I had to adapt my schedule. I began living a nocturnal life. Researching universities and writing application essays at 3 am became my normality. I never really complained because 2020 was my gap year so my schedule could be adjusted. However, this changed as I started to work online at Amnesty International. I could no longer work at midnight. Luckily, my mother had some savings she used to buy a laptop for my sister. I simply had to share the family computer with my mother. This was not as hard as with my sister because my mother works at a hospital and does not really love nor has the need for technology on a daily basis. Having a computer at my disposal for the majority of the time, making it easier to explore my interests, which was my goal with my gap year. You see, since birth, I was always expected to study Law at Universidad de Lima and while I was never opposed to this idea, I was never excited about it either. In the middle of my senior year, I decided I deserved to be thrilled about my career and college choices. Therefore, I took a gap year to satisfy the curiosity that my extracurriculars had awakened. This was especially hard in 2020: I did not expect to explore my interests during a complete lockdown. I made the best out of my situation. As aforementioned, I started working at Amnesty International Peru. There, I got to meet activists and congresswomen and I instantly knew I wanted to do what they were doing. Through all of this, I found my path: international politics and sociology. Sadly, Peruvian colleges do not offer great programs in either of these areas. At that point, because of my US passport, I decided to look at the US and explore colleges there. Since the Peruvian high school curriculum is nothing like the American one I couldn’t take AP or IB courses. So, to brush up, I took free online courses in political science, human behavior, and international relations. I also used my gap year to study for the SAT and the TOEFL. And what would an international relations student be without another language? I signed up for French classes. Even as my major and college search process was hard to complete online, I was still able to spark my passions and be excited about my future academic experience. All of this adaptation and search was not only difficult because of their remote nature, but also because of the new responsibilities I had to take in my house. Having a mother working at Peru’s largest public hospital, the unofficial epicenter of COVID-19, has been difficult. We had to rewrite our lives to protect ourselves in case my mother brought it home. With my mother under quarantine protocols, isolated between working hours, the burden of running the family fell on me. Additionally, my family’s income during most of the year was exclusively my mother’s salary and half of it went to buy PPE that the hospital can’t afford. I turned 18 a few days before quarantine began but finding a job was impossible. I became the designated shopper, walking to the pharmacy and grocery stores to avoid paying for deliveries. Through these three experiences, Covid-19 affected my life.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my grandmother’s death. She moved to Lima to break century-long cycles of discrimination and become one of the greatest dressmakers in the country. When she passed away, I was left with unfamiliar and uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, while wearing the last dress she made for me I realized she had left me an everlasting gift: my passionate nature. Just like on Christmas morning, you get gifts you don’t want. My mother’s family's economic situation kept her from studying her dream career. So, she decided to break this cycle through me. However, her idea of my dream career and ideal life doesn’t match mine. For years, I simply sought her approval. My mother’s gift was her preoccupation, but it clouded my vision. Because of this, I had to learn to leave her gift behind and give myself another: endurance and more value for my happiness. To drive and strive for improvement, as my grandmother showed me, showed me the joy and peace that breaking cycles and improving the world can bring. My mother’s model of perseverance enlightened this path of breaking cycles and opening new doors for myself and those around me. I want to live my own dreams instead of the ones that others chose for me. I will not let my challenges define me. Rather, I keep my problems and gifts as a constant reminder of whom I have become. After opening these gifts, true inspiration entered my life as soothingly as air during my first cleansing respiration. Since then, every regular breath I have taken has been to achieve my dreams and celebrate my own identity and values. Somehow, the odd mixture of hurtful and loving experiences shaped who I am today: a cycle breaker. My gifts showed me that even parts of my personal identity can be shared with others and uplift them. Every morning, my gifts motivate me to break Peru’s cycle of corruption and discrimination. My country needs to discover its own gifts, take in their first cleaning breath, and change its story to one of passion, equality, and development. My mission is to make that happen.

If I had to choose a theme song for my childhood, it would be You Are My Sunshine. Every night, my father would sing this lullaby to me and my twin sister while my mother played the piano. My first exposure to music led me to become fascinated by how everything, even seasons and time, can be sensed through melodies. I now think of music as a way to relax my mind and feed my curiosity. I started by following my mother’s steps, who was once part of the Peruvian National Conservatory of Music, by playing Für Elise on the piano with my sister and letting the tunes hypnotize us with every note. Through this, I became intrigued by the science of music, especially by the neural connections developed with musical stimulation, which can enhance human interaction. I furthered this discovery when I was the first chair in my high school’s flute section of the orchestra and saw my friends develop learning and social skills through music. When the Sinfonía por el Perú orchestra chose me to lead the flute and piccolo section, I was elated. But what surprised me about that experience was that I witnessed people from all social classes and races come together. Normally, classism and discrimination split Peruvians apart. Nevertheless, our passion for music was powerful enough to break all barriers. We would daily spend 4 hours practicing, through which I learned about different situations in impoverished areas in Peru. These talented musicians taught me an important lesson: nothing must come between you and your aspirations. With them, I improved my skills from a high school level to a pre-professional one. Even though I initially felt insecure about my talent as a flute player, looking back I realize I had no reason to feel that way. My performances at the Peruvian national stadium and at the Pan-American games are proof. So, if money was not a problem, I would dedicate my life to teaching music, and showing other musicians to realize how talented they are. Additionally, I would use the human connections I created through music to increase musical education in rural areas of Peru. I am convinced that underprivileged Peruvians have talent and passion like no other: I witnessed it at Sinfonía por el Perú. The only problem is they lack confidence and opportunities. Consequently, I want to use my newly-found confidence and my experience to find and nourish Peruvian talent.

Every year my family visits the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology, and History of Peru. It became my tradition to wonder which visitors knew the exhibitions were stolen from native communities. Visitors transform into descendants of Chavín, Huarí, Nasca societies, who visit the museum to share their cultures and knowledge. But, every time I leave the museum, I remember this only exists in my mind. In reality, ignorance and apathy built Peru on a foundation of injustice. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. I want better laws and better people. Otherwise, world leaders will continue to take advantage of indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. I want to study International Relations and Sociology to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well written laws combined with public support creates change, which is why I want to be able to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from current authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve. So, to begin my journey, I joined Amnesty International because the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. I fight for justice: respect and equality in human rights. Implementing measures has not been easy this year. When quarantine began, I went from organizing the Women’s Day march and giving human rights workshops, to looking for innovative activism campaigns. Now, I raise awareness through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and UN directors. I also facilitate international virtual negotiations and dialogs between organizations and activists by creating events, contacting participants, and translating documents and speeches. However, my most important work is with climate change, as I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” I have led activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures for the ratification of the Escazú Agreement. All to spread the idea that a politician and an activist must dedicate their life to learning. Only then we can have freedom, equality, and respect for each other and our world. I am convinced that if a politician fails to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, they will never use that knowledge when creating policies. We cannot protect the climate without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed - through our feces - by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Learning to not repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history, it includes politics, science, and every field. Politicians must adopt a vision that evaluates environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. I yearn to learn. What other odd connections are there for me to discover? My search for answers is why I am pursuing an undergraduate degree.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my grandmother’s death. She was an indigenous Peruvian and a fashion and social equality activist. She moved to Lima to break century-long cycles of discrimination and become one of the greatest dressmakers in the country. She was my mentor. When she passed away, I was left with unfamiliar and uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, while wearing the last dress she made for me I realized she had left me an everlasting gift: my passionate nature. As I explored what my grandmother’s gift meant, I uncovered my father’s gift. Some years had passed since my father’s death. Ice cream trips no longer felt like a break from stress without him. My identity relied on his company. But, even in his absence, he is my personal cheerleader, constantly reminding me to follow my heart. His gift was opening a door for me to walk through: his American nationality. With that, I could follow my dreams. Just like on Christmas morning, you get gifts you don’t want. My mother’s family's economic situation kept her from studying her dream career. So, she decided to break this cycle and ensure I had a good job, one that would give me a “happy family”. However, her idea of my dream career and ideal life doesn’t match mine. Her idea of breaking a cycle only perpetuated it. For years, I simply sought her approval and adhered to her judgments and vision for my future. I was ready to erase my path and follow the one she drew for me. My mother’s gift was her preoccupation, but it fogged the view. Because of this, I had to learn to leave her gift behind and give myself another one: endurance and more value for my happiness. To drive and strive for improvement, as my grandmother showed me, showed me the joy and peace that breaking cycles and improving the world can bring. My parents’ model of perseverance enlightened this path of breaking cycles and opening new doors for myself and those around me. I want to live my own dreams instead of the ones that others chose for me. I will not let my challenges define me. Rather, I keep my problems and gifts as a constant reminder of whom I have become. After opening these gifts, true inspiration entered my life as soothingly as air during my first cleansing respiration. Since then, every regular breath I have taken has been to achieve my dreams and celebrate my own identity and values. Somehow, the odd mixture of hurtful and loving experiences shaped who I am today: a cycle breaker. My gifts showed me that even parts of my personal identity can be shared with others and uplift them. Every morning, my gifts motivate me to break Peru’s cycle of corruption and discrimination. My country needs to discover its own gifts, take in their first cleaning breath, and change its story to one of passion, equality, and development. My mission is to make that happen.

Yearly, the wind carries sand from the Sahara Desert to the Amazon Rainforest and fertilizes the latter's soil. The deadliest place on Earth gives life to our planet’s lungs. This curious connection has inspired me ever since to have an interdisciplinary approach to politics. Curiosity is my way to approach life and how I want to solve world problems. I am convinced that if a politician fails to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, they will never use that knowledge when creating policies. We cannot protect the climate without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed - through our feces - by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Learning to not repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history, it includes politics, science, and every field. Politicians must adopt a vision that evaluates environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. I yearn to learn. What other odd connections are there for me to discover? My search for answers is the reason why I want to pursue an undergraduate education.

Yearly, wind carries sand from the Sahara Desert to the Amazon Rainforest and fertilizes the latter's soil. The deadliest place on Earth gives life to our planet’s lungs. This curious connection has inspired me ever since. At Amnesty International, Peruvian activists and international diplomats showed me how to find these connections to solve world issues. Some exemplified the consequences of disregarding our world and social behaviors, others taught me what can be achieved through curiosity. We cannot create climate change policies without understanding the natural world. That is the problem with politicians. If you fail to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, you will never be interested enough to use that knowledge when creating policies. We cannot protect the climate without understanding the natural world. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed - through our feces - by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Learning to not repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history, it includes politics, science, and every field. Politicians must adopt a vision that evaluates environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I study to become a politician. This enlightened a path for my activism. When quarantine began, I went from organizing the Women’s Day march and giving human rights workshops, to looking for innovative activism campaigns. Now, I raise awareness through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and UN directors. I also facilitate international virtual negotiations and dialogs between organizations and activists by creating events, contacting participants, and translating documents and speeches. However, my most important work is with climate change, as I manage the relations between Amnesty and youth organizations like “Fridays For Future.” I have led activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures for the ratification of the Escazú Agreement. All to spread the idea that a politician and an activist must dedicate their life to learning. Only then we can have freedom, equality, and respect for each other and our world. I yearn to learn. I will be part of a new generation of politicians who evaluate environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. I yearn to learn. What other odd connections are there for me to discover?

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. However, I recently regained hope when I participated in a project with Amnesty International Peru that enabled us to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it. However, I will not just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. Studying international politics will enable me to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

Every year my family visits the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology, and History of Peru. It became my tradition to wonder which visitors knew the exhibitions were stolen from native communities. Visitors transform into descendants of Chavín, Huarí, Nasca societies, who visit the museum to share their cultures and knowledge. But, every time I leave the museum, I remember this only exists in my mind. In reality, ignorance and apathy built Peru on a foundation of injustice. This inspired me to get to the root of why our laws often fail to reflect what is morally correct, what is just. I concluded that ignorance and apathy were at its roots. When people are uninformed and disinterested, we accomplish nothing. So I joined Amnesty International because the only way to fight apathy and ignorance is through action and advocacy. I fight for justice: respect and equality in human rights. During Peru’s recent protests, I have helped victims of police brutality fight against laws that allow abuse of power. I raise awareness about human rights through online conferences with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and UN directors. I lead activism campaigns in Latin America and have even sent the Peruvian congress a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement. I want better laws and better people. Otherwise, world leaders will continue to take advantage of indifference to create unjust and morally incorrect laws. Which brings me back to Tufts. I want to study International Relations and Sociology to work on drawing a line between justice and abuse of power. I want to better understand human behavior to then create policies that improve our interactions with each other and our world. Our connection to justice begins with discussions and careful reflection. Well written laws combined with public support creates change.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. However, I recently regained hope when I participated in a project with Amnesty International Peru that enabled us to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it. However, I will not just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. Studying international politics will enable me to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

Realizing that not even the moon is free from human waste forces me to wonder if pollution is a choice or an instinct. We have always seen it as a choice. Yet, it almost seems like an innate response to laziness, lack of responsibility, and convenience, as if it were an immediate reflex to throw waste anywhere instead of where it belongs. This may not be as worrying when it comes to choosing to bring back moon rocks over human waste. However, as we damage Earth daily, our response to waste management and pollution matters. My home country is an example of the urgency in which we must address this. Peru, one of 17 megadiverse countries, is home to the Andes, the Amazon Rainforest, and the shores of the Pacific Ocean. Nevertheless, in 2019, it was the 33rd most polluted country, according to the World Air Quality Index. For years, I had trouble sleeping knowing that the most unique biodiversity and the most severe levels of pollution coexisted in the same country. However, I recently regained hope when I participated in a project with Amnesty International Peru that enabled us to send a petition with over 40,000 signatures to ratify the Escazú Agreement to the Peruvian Congress. The Peruvian population agrees on a few topics, and I am glad that one of them is the first environmental human rights treaty in Latin America and the Caribbean, which guarantees access to information, ensures public participation in decision-making, and protects the human rights of activists. Even though members of Congress are constantly trying to convince the public that this agreement limits Peru’s sovereignty, I am determined to spread the truth. I have contributed to the organization of virtual events with Latin American Congress members, leaders of Peruvian indigenous communities, and even the Head of the Policies for Sustainable Development Unit of the Economic Commission for Latin America and the Caribbean. By creating campaigns with international environmental activists, I hope to strengthen mechanisms for the supervision of environmental rights and the protection of activists. We have all contributed to the deterioration of the environment, and it is time for us to heal it. However, I will not just wait for others to solve the problem. I want to be part of the solution: now through activism, and later through my contribution to the much-needed process of policy development. Studying international politics will enable me to take an active part in the creation of effective international guidelines and focus on the most urgent issues that are receiving the least attention from our authorities. I know this sounds idealistic, but I do not expect to change the whole world. I want to take a small step toward developing solutions that enable problems to be addressed with the urgency they deserve.

I had never truly taken in a breath before. I had read about cleansing breaths. But I had never been able to take one in. I tried, though: yoga classes, religious retreats, hikes in the woods, none of them worked. Until finally, one night in my teenage years, I closed my eyes and took in some air. Oxygen flowed from my lungs to my heart, taking with it all my burdens. All I could hear was the distant chirping of birds—or maybe it was an engine or crickets. I opened my eyes and simply laughed at the irony. We all need oxygen to live. Breathing was not a new experience for me. But, somehow, in 18 years of life, I had never truly taken in a deep cleansing breath. I wish I had. On several occasions, I needed to. But I was too afraid. However, a series of challenges forced the issue. The first event was my grandmother’s death. She was an indigenous Peruvian and a fashion and social equality activist. She moved to Lima to break century-long cycles of discrimination and become one of the greatest dressmakers in the country. She was my mentor. When she passed away, I was left with unfamiliar and uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, while wearing the last dress she made for me I realized she had left me an everlasting gift: my passionate nature. As I explored what my grandmother’s gift meant, I uncovered my father’s gift. Some years had passed since my father’s death. Ice cream trips no longer felt like a break from stress without him. My identity relied on his company. But, even in his absence, he is my personal cheerleader, constantly reminding me to follow my heart. His gift was opening a door for me to walk through: his American nationality. With that, I could follow my dreams. Just like on Christmas morning, you get gifts you don’t want. My mother’s family's economic situation kept her from studying her dream career. So, she decided to break this cycle and ensure I had a good job, one that would give me a “happy family”. However, her idea of my dream career and ideal life doesn’t match mine. Her idea of breaking a cycle only perpetuated it. For years, I simply sought her approval and adhered to her judgments and vision for my future. I was ready to erase my path and follow the one she drew for me. My mother’s gift was her preoccupation, but it fogged the view. Because of this, I had to learn to leave her gift behind and give myself another one: endurance and more value for my happiness. To drive and strive for improvement, as my grandmother showed me, showed me the joy and peace that breaking cycles and improving the world can bring. My parents’ model of perseverance enlightened this path of breaking cycles and opening new doors for myself and those around me. I want to live my own dreams instead of the ones that others chose for me. I will not let my challenges define me. Rather, I keep my problems and gifts as a constant reminder of whom I have become. After opening these gifts, true inspiration entered my life as soothingly as air during my first cleansing respiration. Since then, every regular breath I have taken has been to achieve my dreams and celebrate my own identity and values. Somehow, the odd mixture of hurtful and loving experiences shaped who I am today: a cycle breaker. My gifts showed me that even parts of my personal identity can be shared with others and uplift them. Every morning, my gifts motivate me to break Peru’s cycle of corruption and discrimination. My country needs to discover its own gifts, take in their first cleaning breath, and change its story to one of passion, equality, and development. My mission is to make that happen.

I have a confession to make. My comfort series, the Netflix show I watch whenever I need some cheering up, is the documentary series Absurd Planet. No, I am not telling you this to seem like the evolution of teenagers: one that rejects movies like The Kissing Booth because of its "intellectual inferiority". I am a fan of bad movies and impossible romantic comedies. I am both confused and fascinated by someone falling in love in 10 days. Or worse, love defined by a number of flowers or the size of a rock. But that is beside the point. I am much more of a nerd than I admit to the world. I am in love with Absurd Planet and how it follows Mother Nature as she explains her weirdest creations. I know every word to the song Mother Nature sings about how weird it is that dung beetles' main food source is other animals’ poop. And, I am no longer ashamed of sharing this side of me with my friends. Ironically, my Catholic high school was very judgmental. In elementary school, a classmate decided to make fun of my weight. As a response, I gave this girl a Biology lecture based on that day's science class. I confidently told her my body was just the transformation of the matter I ate, drank, and breathed. And, my cells are constantly replaced, so I am simply a pitstop in the life of an atom. Why would I spend my whole life perfecting an atom’s temporary resting place? In middle school, rolled eyes and sighs followed every question I had about how a mathematical theory was found, or why, in a search for freedom, humans follow patterns and routines. Consequently, I forced myself to stop asking questions and try to memorize and repeat as my teachers wanted—although I was not successful. As soon as I graduated from high school and began exploring majors, my curiosity and nerdiness came back. Now, documentary series are my escape from the world. It seems odd, but I find peace in ignoring my problems by learning about animals, religions around the globe, amazing applications of mathematics, and what motivates human beings. I live by the idea that life never gave us lemons to produce lemonade. Lemons are hybrids between a citron and a sour orange. Although the origin of this hybrid is unknown, I like to think we created our lemons, they were not handed to us by life. Curiosity is my way to approach life and how I want to solve world problems. I am convinced that if a politician fails to be fascinated by patterns in our world, like those demonstrated by Benford's law, or how religion answers questions that physics inherently leaves, they will never use that knowledge when creating policies. Knowing about research that shows that the composition of leaves may hint at proximity to gold mines may create policies for more sustainable mining. Being aware that everything humans ingest is afterward consumed—through our feces—by fish, may help politicians to be more careful about waste disposal. Learning to not repeat our mistakes is not exclusive to history, it includes politics, science, and every field. Politicians must start having a vision that takes into account environmental issues, economic capabilities, and even physical laws before daring to propose a policy. As a political activist, I live by this principle, and I will continue to do so as I (hopefully) study at Harvard to become a politician.