I want to put at children's fingertips the narratives I could not easily find while growing up. Even though my family limited my bedtime stories to just five (after reading stacks of books all day long), I was lucky to grow up with a supportive family that highlighted diversity on the pages of the books they read me. Not everyone is so fortunate. I had struggled to find a meaningful purpose to put my creative skills toward upon high school graduation. I gain fulfillment from helping people - specifically young people - and my love for children's books has not dulled. As such, I took an independent study with my high school Digital Art and Design teacher, focusing on writing and illustrating a children's book. With his guidance, but primarily working independently, I wrote and began illustrating a book about a young Black girl with synesthesia, the book cover of which is attached below. This independent study solidified my goal to attend Northern Illinois University to earn a BFA-Studio Art with a concentration in Illustration, after which I intend to become an illustrator for picture books -- specifically picture books that feature historically marginalized children and promote diversity. Marginalized children simply cannot grow up never seeing themselves represented in the books they consume, and overrepresented children should not grow up with media that only reflect themselves. Societal growth and change begin with the next generation, with children. If we can educate them about the importance of diversity and inclusion of all people, they will grow up knowing that the things that make us different strengthen us as a society. Hope for this future has driven me toward my goal of illustrating picture books featuring characters with a variety of skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, genders and gender expressions, sexual orientations, abilities, and disabilities. Whether reading themselves or being read to, all children must read books that serve as windows, allowing them to see heroes that are not the same as them. Conversely, underrepresented children deserve the joy of reading multiple books that act as mirrors, giving them the experience of seeing themselves as the story's hero. They always have, and they always will.

By becoming a book illustrator, I want to put at children's fingertips a wide array of diverse narratives I could not easily find while growing up: stories highlighting various skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, abilities and disabilities, genders and gender expressions, sexual orientations, and family structures.

When I first began attending therapy to tackle the long-term suspicions I was having regarding clinical depression and to work through the grief I was experiencing regarding the death of a friend, I was terrified. My worries about therapy were numerous: What if my teachers found out I was going to therapy? Would I be seen as weak for asking for help with my depression? Why was I unable to handle my depression on my own? These questions were overwhelming for fifteen-year-old me to process. However, upon attending my first session with my therapist, many of my fears dissipated. It was only after several therapy sessions that I realized the trepidation I had resulted from my previous negative mindset regarding mental health and therapy. Therapy was not a punishment for the mental struggles I was having. Rather, it was – and is – a tool to help me through these mental struggles. While the idea of breaking the intense and looming stigma of discussing mental health sounds daunting, it is not nearly as difficult as it sounds. It is a large-scale issue, but this problem, when broken down on the individual level, can dissipate. For example, talking about therapy in passing can often change people’s perceptions of seeking such help. When I arrive at theater rehearsals ten minutes after everyone else does because of the length of my therapy session and my friends ask where I have been, I answer honestly: I’ve been at therapy. Answering dishonestly would not only reinforce the stigma of depression within myself but also within the people to whom I lied. People's reactions upon hearing this information are not as negative as one might think. No one presses or is disrespectful, and it opens the door for others to come to me with their mental health struggles or inquiries about going to therapy. In addition to being open about therapy and my depression diagnosis, I am often considered a “mom friend” among those I spend time with. I tend to ask others if they need a snack, if they need to use the bathroom before leaving somewhere, and, most importantly, if they need to talk to someone. Some people in my life have never been asked such a question. I am lucky to have the support of a family who cares about my emotional and mental state. I am fortunate to have a high-quality therapist who supports and changes me. Not everyone experiencing the throes of mental illness has such assistance. Whenever I am able to help someone else, I often share advice my therapist has given me while helping me work through something. I aspire to become a children's book illustrator who highlights diversity of all kinds on the pages of children's books. I would love to someday illustrate for an author who featured a character who worked with a mental health specialist. Normalizing mental health care when children are young can only help them on their journeys and aid them in supporting their peers and family members by reducing or even removing the stigma of mental health care. Though it may not always apply exactly to someone’s situation, the knowledge that I attend therapy and experience the struggles of mental illness can open the door to a safer and braver space in our conversation and erase the shame that can arise when discussing mental illness. We must make space for not only ourselves but also for those we care about, to break the stigma of mental illness.

I had to be told to stop reading. My parents read to me throughout the day, but my mother, with her background in elementary music education, used a behavior sticker chart when it came to bedtime stories. For each book we read together, a sticker was placed on the chart. When there were five stickers on the chart, it was time for me to go to bed, or else I would ask for more books. And more books. And maybe one more, just because. I thoroughly enjoyed these books, but I especially loved being whisked away into the vivid illustrations that burst from the pages. As a small child, I lacked the words at the time, but it was then that I began to truly appreciate each piece of art on the pages. That two-year-old with a sticker chart is now an over-engaged high school senior, juggling honors, Advanced Placement, and Dual Credit classes while also putting the "A" in "STEAM." I am heavily involved in band, choir, speech team, theatre, and visual art. Outside of school, I participate in a social justice and service-minded church, serve as a Youth Leader in an LGBTQ+ affirming Drop-In Center, babysit and dog-sit when schedules permit, and work at the local independent bookstore during school breaks to put money away for college. I have struggled to find a meaningful purpose to put my creative skills toward upon high school graduation. I gain fulfillment from helping people - specifically young people - and my love for children's books has not dulled. As such, I am currently taking an academic overload, allowing me to partake in an independent study with my Digital Art and Design teacher, focusing on writing and illustrating a children's book. With his guidance, but primarily working independently, I have written and have begun illustrating a book about a young Black girl with synesthesia. This independent study has solidified my goal to attend Northern Illinois University to earn a BFA-Studio Art with a concentration in Illustration, after which I intend to become an illustrator for picture books that feature historically marginalized children and promote diversity. Why is the "A" in "STEAM" so important to me? Marginalized children simply cannot grow up never seeing themselves represented in the books they consume, and overrepresented children should not grow up with media that only reflect themselves. Societal growth and change begin with the next generation, with children. If we can educate them about the importance of diversity and inclusion of all people, they will grow up knowing that the things that make us different strengthen us as a society. Hope for this future has driven me toward my goal of illustrating picture books featuring characters with a variety of skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, genders and gender expressions, sexual orientations, abilities, and disabilities. I want to put at children's fingertips the narratives I could not easily find while growing up. Even though they limited my bedtime stories to just five, I was lucky to grow up with a supportive family that highlighted diversity. Not everyone is so fortunate. Whether reading themselves or being read to, all children must hold books that are windows to heroes that are not the same as them, and underrepresented children deserve the joy of holding books that serve as mirrors, allowing them to see themselves as the story's hero. They always have, and they always will.

I had to be told to stop reading. My parents read to me throughout the day, but my mother, with her background in elementary music education, used a behavior sticker chart when it came to bedtime stories. For each book we read together, a sticker was placed on the chart. When there were five stickers on the chart, it was time for me to go to bed, or else I would ask for more books. And more books. And maybe one more, just because. I thoroughly enjoyed these books, but I especially loved being whisked away into the vivid illustrations that burst from the pages. As a small child, I lacked the words at the time, but it was then that I began to truly appreciate each piece of art on the pages. That two-year-old with a sticker chart is now an over-engaged high school senior, juggling honors, Advanced Placement, and Dual Credit classes while also investing time and energy into the arts. I am heavily involved in band, choir, speech team, theatre, and visual art. Outside of school, I participate in a social justice and service-minded church and serve as a Youth Leader in an LGBTQ+ affirming Drop-In Center. I have struggled to find a meaningful purpose to put my creative skills toward upon high school graduation. I gain fulfillment from helping people - specifically young people - and though I no longer need a sticker chart, my love for children's books has not dulled. As such, I am currently taking an academic overload, allowing me to partake in an independent study with my Digital Art and Design teacher, focusing on writing and illustrating a children's book. With his guidance, but primarily working independently, I have written and have begun illustrating a book about a young Black girl with synesthesia. This independent study has solidified my goal to earn a BFA-Studio Art with a concentration in Illustration, after which I intend to become an illustrator for picture books that feature historically marginalized children and promote diversity. Marginalized children simply cannot grow up never seeing themselves represented in the books they consume, and overrepresented children should not grow up with media that only reflect themselves. Societal growth and change begin with the next generation, with children. If we can educate them about the importance of diversity and inclusion of all people, they will grow up knowing that the things that make us different strengthen us as a society. Hope for this future has driven me toward my goal of illustrating picture books featuring characters with a variety of skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, genders and gender expressions, sexual orientations, abilities, and disabilities. I want to put at children's fingertips the narratives my family could not easily find while I was growing up. Even though they limited my bedtime stories to just five, I was lucky to grow up with a supportive family that sought out and highlighted diversity. Not everyone is so fortunate. Whether reading themselves or being read to, all children must hold books that are windows to heroes that are not the same as them, and underrepresented children deserve the joy of holding books that serve as mirrors, allowing them to see themselves as the story's hero. They always have, and they always will.

Similar to Amelia, I firmly believe in supporting my fellow LGBTQIA+ family. We are a bold and strong community and are deserving of being seen and celebrated. This is why I want to earn my degree in Art with a concentration in Illustration: so I can bring LGBTQIA+ diversity to the pages of children's books. When I was small, I never saw any children’s books that told the stories of people who loved like me, nor did I see any stories featuring other queer identities. While queer representation in children’s books has increased over time, I still want to be part of the change. Traditionally marginalized children simply cannot grow up not seeing themselves represented in the books they consume, and overrepresented children should not grow up with media that only reflect themselves. Societal growth and change begin with the next generation, with children. If we can educate them about the importance of diversity and inclusion of all people, they will grow up knowing that the things that make us different strengthen us as a society. Hope for this future has driven me toward my goal of illustrating picture books featuring characters with a variety of not only sexual orientations, genders and gender expressions, but also skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, abilities and disabilities. I want to put at children's fingertips the narratives I could not easily find while growing up. My parents sought them out, but not everyone is so fortunate. It also shouldn't be difficult to find broad representation. Whether reading themselves or being read to, all children must have books that serve as windows to see heroes that are not the same as them, and underrepresented children deserve the joy of books that serve as mirrors, repeatedly seeing themselves as the story's hero. They always have, and they always will.

Given my laundry list of fine arts involvements, it will surprise no one that two public school teachers raised me. Indeed as long as I can remember, they both encouraged me to be true to myself, and this started with picture books. I thoroughly enjoyed these books, but I especially loved being whisked away into the vivid illustrations that burst from the pages. I lacked the words as a small child, but it was then that I began to truly appreciate each piece of art on the pages. While this seems all well and good, I may have become too obsessed. I had to be told to stop reading. My mother, with her background in elementary music education, used a small chart for bedtime stories. For each book we read together, a sticker was placed on the chart. When there were five stickers on the chart, I had to go to bed, or else I would ask for more books. And more books. And maybe one more, just because... Now a high school senior, my love for children’s books has not dulled. After earning my Bachelor of Fine Arts in Studio Art with a concentration in Illustration, I intend to become an illustrator for children's books that follow my true passion: featuring historically marginalized children and promoting diversity of all kinds. When I was around age ten, I began to take art seriously. My mother fully supported this, gifting me art supplies on my birthday and for Christmas. Even in middle school, when I decided that I wanted to pursue visual art as a career, a financially risky one at that, she still encouraged me. Now on the cusp of high school graduation, she remains my strongest ally. She has never doubted or questioned my goal of illustrating children's books. Instead, she fortifies my love for art. She affirmed my goals when an unsupportive parent instead may have pushed me away from my creative pursuits. I am currently enrolled in an independent study in children’s book illustration to enter the collegiate art field with additional knowledge in my intended career path. It is because of my mother’s unwavering support that this is even an option. I was drawn to performing on stage at an early age, another opportunity my mother championed. When I needed volunteer hours for a middle school service club, I was given the opportunity to help at the concession stand for a high school speech meet. I jumped at the chance to arrive early to catch a round of competition before working. Thirteen events were described to me, and I chose to observe Original Oratory. I texted Mom after the round declaring myself a future OO competitor because, as she recalls the story, I said, “I HAVE THINGS TO SAY!" I am nearing the end of my fourth year competing in Original Oratory, having written, honed, and delivered speeches on the horrors of LGBTQ+ conversion therapy, responsible source vetting and mentally healthy media consumption, the literal brain-altering pacing that is preschool on-screen media like Cocomelon, and how and why conspiracy theories take root and what societal dangers they conjure. Though “I HAVE THINGS TO SAY!” was my initial impetus to join other sleep-deprived teens on Saturdays during bleak winter months for 6:00 a.m. bus rides, speech has provided much more than a speaking platform. Participation in speech, and specifically OO, has sharpened my writing and delivery skills, and grown my confidence. I will miss the dark return bus trips clutching medals and reading judges' critiques, but will take lessons learned to the School of Visual Art.

When I first began attending therapy to tackle the long-term suspicions I was having regarding clinical depression and to work through the grief I was experiencing regarding the death of a friend, I was terrified. My worries about therapy were numerous: What if my teachers found out I was going to therapy? Would I be seen as weak for asking for help with my depression? Why was I unable to handle my depression on my own? These questions were overwhelming for fifteen-year-old me to process. However, upon attending my first session with my therapist, many of my fears dissipated. It was only after several therapy sessions that I realized the trepidation I had resulted from my previous negative mindset regarding mental health and therapy. Therapy was not a punishment for the mental struggles I was having. Rather, it was – and is – a tool to help me through these mental struggles. While the idea of breaking the intense and looming stigma of discussing mental health sounds daunting, it is not nearly as difficult as it sounds. It is a large-scale issue, but this problem, when broken down on the individual level, can dissipate. For example, talking about therapy in passing can often change people’s perceptions of seeking such help. When I arrive at theater rehearsals ten minutes after everyone else does because of the length of my therapy session and my friends ask where I have been, I answer honestly: I’ve been at therapy. Answering dishonestly would not only reinforce the stigma of depression within myself but also within the people to whom I lied. People's reactions upon hearing this information are not as negative as one might think. More often than not, I receive an “oh, okay” in reply. No one presses, no one is disrespectful, and it opens the door for others to come to me with their own mental health struggles or inquiries about going to therapy. In addition to being open about my attendance at therapy and my depression diagnosis, I am often considered a “mom friend” among those I spend time with. I tend to ask others if they need a snack, if they need to use the bathroom before leaving somewhere, and, most importantly, if they need to talk to someone. Some people in my life have never been asked such a question. I am lucky to have the support of a family who cares about my emotional and mental state. I am fortunate to have a high-quality therapist who supports and changes me. Not everyone experiencing the throes of mental illness has such assistance. Whenever I am able to help someone else, I often share advice my therapist has given me while helping me work through something. I aspire to become an illustrator who highlights diversity of all kinds on the pages of children’s books. I would love to someday illustrate for an author who featured a character who worked with a mental health specialist. Normalizing mental health care when children are young can only help them on their journeys and aid them in supporting their peers and family members by reducing or even eliminating the stigma of receiving mental health care. Though it may not always apply exactly to someone’s situation, the knowledge that I attend therapy and experience the struggles of mental illness can open the door to a safer and braver space in our conversation and erase the shame that can arise when discussing mental illness. People are not often ashamed of needing help for their physical health in the event of an illness or injury, so we should not be ashamed of needing help to better our emotional and mental health. The dissolution of this stigma starts by talking about mental health conversationally and openly. It is excruciating to suffer in silence and be ashamed of doing so. We must make space for not only ourselves but also for those we care about, to break the stigma of mental illness.

When I first began attending therapy to tackle the long-term suspicions I was having regarding clinical depression and to work through the grief I was experiencing regarding the death of a friend, I was terrified. My worries about therapy were numerous: What if my teachers found out I was going to therapy? Would I be seen as weak for asking for help with my depression? Why was I unable to handle my depression on my own? These questions were overwhelming for fifteen-year-old me to process. However, upon attending my first session with my therapist, many of my fears dissipated. It was only after several therapy sessions that I realized the trepidation I had resulted from my previous negative mindset regarding mental health and therapy. Therapy was not a punishment for the mental struggles I was having. Rather, it was – and is – a tool to help me through these mental struggles. While the idea of breaking the intense and looming stigma of discussing mental health sounds daunting, it is not nearly as difficult as it sounds. It is a large-scale issue, but this problem, when broken down on the individual level, can dissipate. For example, talking about therapy in passing can often change people’s perceptions of seeking such help. When I arrive at theater rehearsals ten minutes after everyone else does because of the length of my therapy session and my friends ask where I have been, I answer honestly: I’ve been at therapy. Answering dishonestly would not only reinforce the stigma of depression within myself but also within the people to whom I lied. People's reactions upon hearing this information are not as negative as one might think. More often than not, I receive an “oh, okay” in reply. No one presses, no one is disrespectful, and it opens the door for others to come to me with their own mental health struggles or inquiries about going to therapy. In addition to being open about my attendance at therapy and my depression diagnosis, I am often considered a “mom friend” among those I spend time with. I tend to ask others if they need a snack, if they need to use the bathroom before leaving somewhere, and, most importantly, if they need to talk to someone. Some people in my life have never been asked such a question. I am lucky to have the support of a family who cares about my emotional and mental state. I am fortunate to have a high-quality therapist who supports and changes me. Not everyone experiencing the throes of mental illness has such assistance. Whenever I am able to help someone else, I often share advice my therapist has given me while helping me work through something. Though it may not always apply exactly to someone’s situation, the knowledge that I attend therapy and experience the struggles of mental illness can open the door to a safer and braver space in our conversation and erase the shame that can arise when discussing mental illness. People are not often ashamed of needing help for their physical health in the event of an illness or injury, so we should not be ashamed of needing help to better our emotional and mental health. The dissolution of this stigma starts by talking about mental health conversationally and openly. It is excruciating to suffer in silence and be ashamed of doing so. We must make space for not only ourselves, but also for those we care about, to break the stigma of mental illness.

While I dedicate much of my time to volunteering for Youth Outlook, a social service agency supporting LGBTQIA+ youth, I know it is critical to advocate for and speak out about other important issues. Immediately after the murder of George Floyd, I noticed that nothing was happening in my town to speak out against the violence enacted towards Black people, including violence by police against the very people they should be protecting. I was angry that people around me were so complacent regarding the issue at hand. Still, I knew I could not organize and host an entire protest alone. After reaching out to my Pastor and individuals in leadership at my church, they agreed that it was crucial to do something to support our Black siblings and were thankful that I had come to them with the idea. The twenty-four-hour candlelight vigil in response to violence against our Black siblings was born. A committee was quickly formed, co-led by Pastor, my mom, and me. There was much to do in a matter of days, so people’s skills were matched to tasks that needed to be completed. Pastor reached out to her colleague at a Baptist church in our majority-white town to have a Black voice at the opening ceremony. She also contacted our town’s police force to ensure that vigil-keepers were safe for twenty-four hours. My mom put her organizational and Facebook skills to work. She created an online sign-up for vigil-keepers, making sure to have space for both congregants and community members in each hour-long time slot so that there was always someone who would welcome community members and who knew the church’s inner layout in case there was a confrontation outside. She found anti-racism coloring pages and bought crayons for young vigil-keepers. I set to work to create a theme: ACKNOWLEDGE. AMPLIFY. ACT. We called upon people to acknowledge our role in systemic racism, amplify Black voices, and act for change. I designed a simple banner to hang at the vigil, which was suspended and lit by others in the congregation. I gathered thought-provoking questions from a social worker in our congregation to chalk on the sidewalks around the vigil site. I wrote my opening remarks to be read in the opening ceremony. An outdoor canopy tent was hoisted to keep the sun off daytime attendees. Cold water was donated. Vigil keepers brought homemade signs to hold high as traffic passed on Route 23, then left them for others to do the same. They journaled their thoughts in a communal notebook. Candles were lit overnight and some melted onto the church's steps in the daytime heat. More art was chalked onto the sidewalks. Local police repeatedly checked on our safety while also acknowledging the need for change. Car horns blared their support, often accompanied by waves or thumbs-ups of support. In June 2020, in the era of the pandemic where people were still primarily isolated, congregants and community members alike – from preschoolers to folks in their 80s – joined together to spend twenty-four hours outside in peaceful protest and to acknowledge, amplify, and act.

I had to be told to stop reading. My parents read to me throughout the day, but my mother, with her background in elementary music education, used a behavior sticker chart when it came to bedtime stories. For each book we read together, a sticker was placed on the chart. When there were five stickers on the chart, I had to go to bed, or else I would ask for more books. And more books. And maybe one more, just because. That two-year-old with a sticker chart is now an over-involved high school senior, juggling honors, Advanced Placement, and Dual Credit classes on top of band, choir, speech team, theatre, and visual art, while participating in a social justice and service-minded church and in an LGBTQ+ affirming Drop-In Center, also serving as a Youth Leader, babysitting and dog-sitting when my schedule permits, and working at my local independent bookstore during school breaks to put funds away for college. I have struggled to find a meaningful purpose to put my creative skills toward upon high school graduation. I gain fulfillment from helping people - specifically young people - and my love for children's books has not dulled. As such, I am currently taking an independent study with my Digital Art and Design teacher, focusing on writing and illustrating a children's book. Primarily working independently, but with his guidance, I have written and have begun illustrating a book about a young Black girl with synesthesia. This independent study has solidified my goal to attend Northern Illinois University to earn a BFA-Studio Art with a concentration in Illustration, after which I intend to become an illustrator for picture books that feature historically marginalized children and promote diversity. Marginalized children simply cannot grow up never seeing themselves represented in the books they consume, and overrepresented children should not grow up with media that only reflect themselves. Societal growth and change begin with the next generation, with children. If we can educate them about the importance of diversity and inclusion of all people, they will grow up knowing that the things that make us different strengthen us as a society. Hope for this future has driven me toward my goal of illustrating picture books featuring characters with a variety of skin colors, hair textures and styles, family customs and treasured foods, faiths and manners of dress, genders and gender expressions, sexual orientations, abilities, and disabilities. I want to give children the narratives I could not easily find while growing up. Even though they limited my bedtime stories to just five, I was lucky to grow up with a supportive family that highlighted diversity. Not everyone is so fortunate. Whether reading or being read to, children must see heroes that are not the same as them, and underrepresented children deserve the joy of repeatedly seeing themselves as the story's hero. They always have, and they always will.

As a part of the LGBTQIA+ community, I find purpose and pride in giving back to the community that has given so much to me. That is a large reason why I help to lead my weekly Youth Outlook site's Drop-In Center. Being involved with Youth Outlook -- an Illinois social service agency that supports LGBTQIA+ youth in a myriad of ways -- has been a huge part of my teen years. Outside of Drop-In Center site activities, I have represented Youth Outlook as a Youth Leader at various events, including my town's first Pride Fest. At Pride Fest, I helped visitors create their own free buttons and fielded questions from interested youth and parents. I also educated some visitors to our table on the meanings of various pride flags using a diagram Drop-In Center youth had created after noticing that many well-meaning allies did not know the identities associated with several flags representing the LGBTQIA+ community. One of the most impactful and meaningful experiences in my role as a Youth Leader came when I was able to present to my mother's colleagues at her rural K-12 school about the LGBTQIA+ community. Along with her, I was able to help these adults better understand their LGBTQIA+ students. I explained how to help them feel more welcome in the classroom and how to support them when their family or friends may not be. Though I received minor pushback from one individual concerning the validity of children's trans-ness or change in pronouns, some shared personal anecdotes about LGBTQIA+ relatives and others asked how they should act respectfully given a certain situation. I left the presentation with positive feedback from my audience, knowing that I had made a lasting impact not only on the staff, but also on the future of their students. As for my major, when I was a young child, I adored reading picture books with my parents. They strived to find and read books that featured characters who were different from me so I would see more diversity in what I read. However, when I was small, I never saw any children’s books that told the stories of people who loved like me, nor did I see any stories featuring other queer identities. Upon graduation as a BFA-Studio Art/Illustration major, I see myself writing and illustrating books for children that promote diversity, particularly for the LGBTQIA+ community. Utilizing my talents to introduce children to the LGBTQIA+ community and to help queer youth feel seen is so incredibly important to me. I want to illustrate stories for children that I wish I had growing up – the stories that simply were not made when I was small. Reading queer children’s books that have been released recently has only further convinced me that this is what I need to do with my life. How will I change the world? I will give children the narratives I wish I had while growing up. I was lucky enough to grow up with a supportive family and around queer people, but not everyone is so fortunate. Queer children deserve to see themselves as the heroes of the story. They always have, and they always will.

When I was a young child, I adored reading picture books. Before I could read on my own, my parents would read to me before bedtime and I would get absorbed in the stories that were told and the illustrations that sprung to life on each page. My parents strived to find and read books that featured characters who were different from me so I would see more diversity in what I read. However, when I was small, I never saw any children’s books that told the stories of people who loved like me, nor did I see any stories featuring other queer identities. Queer representation in children’s books has increased over time, but I still want to be part of the change. In ten years, I see myself writing and illustrating books for children that promote diversity, particularly for the LGBTQIA+ community. As someone involved in theatre, speech team, band, choir, and visual art, I have struggled to find a meaningful purpose to put my creative skills toward. I gain fulfillment from helping people, and I know I want to do that with my art. Utilizing my talents to introduce children to the LGBTQIA+ community and to help queer youth feel seen is extremely important to me. I want to create and illustrate stories for children that I wish I was able to grow up with – the stories that simply were not made when I was small. Reading queer children’s books that have been released recently has only further convinced me that this is what I need to do with my life. I attend and serve as a Youth Leader for my local Youth Outlook, where near the start of every school year, our programming for the evening is a “Kindergarten Night,” where the site borrows LGBTQIA+ books from local libraries, and the volunteers read to the youth as if we are all in kindergarten. Seeing these stories and the reactions they garner from the attending youth has been nothing short of life-changing. This annual programming has solidified that this is my life’s purpose and my dream. My stories will ensure that children see themselves represented and their own stories told. I have exhausted nearly all the art classes at my high school including photography and digital art and design. To prepare for this venture, I am currently taking an independent study in children’s book illustration with the assistance of my digital art instructor in order to more fully understand the process of creating and finalizing a picture book. I have already designed the main character for this story, created a book cover, and I am working towards designing the main illustrations for the pages inside. This experience is only further convincing me that I am going down the path that is meant for me and where I can make an impact. I want to give children the narratives I was unable to see while growing up. I was lucky enough to grow up with a supportive family that highlighted diversity, but not everyone is so fortunate. Queer children deserve to see themselves as the hero of the story. They always have, and they always will.

"Give a little time for the child within you, don't be afraid to be young and free." These words open the song "Love You" by The Free Design. Though this song may not have an intense emotional pull, I find a strong connection to its message of joy and whimsy. As I go through my busy schedule of AP and dual-credit courses, extracurricular activities, and applying for scholarships, I do not have the time I once had as a child to leap into my backyard and play pretend. However, The Free Design spreads the powerful message that childlike wonder is not something to be feared. Rather, it is something to be embraced and nurtured. In the little free time that I do have, I do my best to look at the world through youthful and optimistic eyes. I still shout "cows!" when I see them on a drive (even when alone), I dance in the kitchen when I make myself dinner, and I still marvel at Christmas lights. In the ever-tumultuous state of the world, I have found that it is increasingly important to find joy in the little things. There will always be problems on planet Earth. However, there will also always be good things, and we cannot run ourselves ragged focusing on the bad every second of every day. Instead, we must indulge in what truly makes us happy. For The Free Design, it might be "bicycles, tricycles, ice cream, candy..." For me, it might be running out into the rain for no other reason than to jump around. We all have joys that we deny ourselves because we find ourselves too busy or the activities seem childish. However, there is no reason not to return to our youth and revel in our inner child.

From the start, my mother gifted me with my love for the arts. Being a music teacher, she is--and always has been--a creative person who enjoys art in all its many forms. I thoroughly enjoyed the picture books she read to me as a child, but I especially loved being whisked away into the vivid illustrations that burst from the pages. As a small child, I lacked the words at the time, but it was then that I began to truly appreciate each art style, their intricacies, and the dedication taken by the artist with each expressive character, each encapsulating background, and each riveting scene. When I was around the age of ten, I began to take art seriously. I designed my own characters, taking inspiration from the books I read and the television shows I watched. My mom was in full support of this, gifting me art supplies on my birthday and for Christmas. Even in middle school, when I decided that I wanted to pursue visual art as a career, a risky one at that, she still encouraged me towards my goal. As a current senior in high school applying to colleges as an intended illustration major, she is still my strongest ally. I always approach her first for feedback on my work, and she always provides honest answers. She has never doubted or questioned me once in my goal of illustrating children's books, fortifying my love for art. She pushes me towards my goals when an unsupportive parent may have pushed me away from my creative pursuits. My favorite artist may very well be influenced by my connection with my mother. After seeing Mary Cassatt’s painting, "The Child’s Bath" upon my first trip to the Art Institute of Chicago, I instantly grew enamored with the work. The painting in question shows a mother bathing her young daughter. The child sits on her mother's lap while wrapped in a towel. Meanwhile, her mother washes her feet in a basin filled with water. Despite the painting being 129 years old, it has always connected with me. I remember being a toddler and bathing with my mother's help, playing with bubbles and pretending to be a mermaid while she played along. While the time period and circumstances are different, the concept and the love shared between mother and child always remains. Much of Cassatt's work lovingly displays this same concept. Her paintings are endearingly human, domestic, and real. They are beautiful, engaging moments frozen in time, still here for people to see themselves in today. I hope to captivate the same magical feeling in my own work throughout my artistic career.

Being raised with a music teacher for a mother while also being obsessed with art meant that creativity has never left my side. Ever since I was small, I was singing and humming, crayons and glitter glue in my tiny fists. The glitter glue may not have been the best idea back then, but I’d like to think that I’ve developed some finesse over the years. Since then, I’ve played percussion since fourth grade, sung in various choirs, participated in theater, and I continue to create visual art. My dream is to illustrate children’s books representing diversity, equity, and inclusion of all peoples, but music still greatly influences much of my visual art. After participating for a few years in Poco a Poco, a vocal music camp, I was commissioned by its director to create an art piece based on the following poem, Music Is, by Dr. Ellen Harrison: “Music is all we love and cannot grasp: fire tongue - river gloss - summit pitch - sunset tone - music alone speaks the silent word inside the world. And when we find ourselves alone music is the friendship we have known: singing silence - stinging joy - the years that pass inside a day - all we want to say and all we can't is music.” These words moved me deeply, and inspired me to create the attached piece. A woman sings, but elements from the poem spill from her lips. “Fire tongue, river gloss, summit pitch, sunset tone.” A common thread that I adore both in music and in art is how much can be said, but also how much can be felt, yet never put to words. Both mysterious facets of creativity have defined my life, and I will continue to carry them as I grow.