The calluses, blood, and subsequent pain that comes with working long hours at my construction job are as constant to me as the air I breathe. The scent of the wood from my construction job still lingers in my nose after a long day. When I go to sleep, the fragrance of the sweet flowery detergent my mother puts on my sheets is replaced by the smell of wet, muddy wood. Air conditioning cools down my body, usually still warm from the heavy heat of the sun’s rays that beamed on the back of my neck, sizzling my skin like a cooking steak. I struggle to savor the dinner in my mouth, trying to overcome the overpowering aroma of wood dust that snuck into my lips. With sore muscles and throbbing feet, I rush to read, do schoolwork, and check on my siblings. Often, I cry myself to sleep because of the pain I am in--two pains: the physical and the pain in my heart. However, the night before I spoke in the first community rally that I organized, “A Dream and a Reality”, I was shedding tears because of the realization that I was about to take an important step towards my dream of making the world a better place through my voice and actions. The next day, I found myself standing on a stage. Then, I turned to look at the familiar face of the sun I always looked to at my job, often begging it to shine elsewhere. The once-painful sun now illuminated me like a spotlight. At that moment, I became overwhelmingly grateful for the struggles and hardships I’d experienced because they shaped my determination to strive towards creating a label-less society through my passion for social justice and politics. As I stepped closer to the audience, I stepped nearer to my aspirations. Before I spoke, I thought, “I am risking my livelihood in this country by speaking out of a desire to bring a better life for my fellow undocumented individuals.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, relinquished my fear, and finally spoke not from the mind, but from the heart. I told my story. I talked about how my personal experiences as an immigrant living in the United States helped shape my uncommon goal of becoming the first non-US-born President. I shared my experience of shouldering the responsibility of both a family breadwinner and a student-led to my resilience and determination. After I was done speaking, I was humbled most when someone came up to thank me for reminding them to pursue once-deferred dreams, “Tu me inspiras a continuar a perseguir mis sueños, sueños que se murieron hace tiempo.” That moment was a building block in my own journey toward realizing my own future where I use my voice and commit to action for making a change. The memories, lessons, people, values that I’ve developed at the construction site were laying a foundation for the future I intend to build for myself and my family. A future where I will continue to pursue my ambitions and persevere past any barriers in the way. By pursuing higher education and continuing to expand my horizons, I will get closer to my goals and my dream of making the world a better place. In college, I'm ready to research frameworks on social change while pursuing my passion for politics and social justice. I will be the enlightened sun that shines upon others, giving out my strength and light to uplift all I encounter.

Throughout my life, I have strived to run from anything that could sabotage my presence in the United States. Being sent back to my home country, Honduras would lead me to find myself in a life or death scenario. Here in the United States, I have the option to decide whether I want to be a doctor or a teacher when I grow up, but in my home country the only decision I had to make is whether to join the “MS-13 gang” or the “Salvatrucha gang.” Today, my young mind wants to challenge the label non-citizen that has haunted me all my life but also shapes my goals. I know that doing so it will not only help me grow as a person but also help me reach my goal to bring down the unbreakable wall that immigrants are forcefully confined to. This wall has brought many setbacks and hardships in my life, which is why I want to bring it down not only for myself but for those often subjugated by society itself in other ways. I have taken many actions that have helped me reach my goal in my community, such as signing a variety of petitions, setting up different rallies, starting my own organization in order to spread awareness, and even going as far as contacting the mayor himself. Yet, I still haven’t brought the change I want, which is why my dream is to become the first non-US-born president. The first step I must take is to attend college. A college scholarship would be put to great use in helping me go to college where I would be able to research frameworks on social change while pursuing my passion for politics and social justice. In doing so, I will be able to establish a legislative foundation for myself, which will be transferred to how much legal support I would be able to offer to the thousands of immigrants in my community. In other words, with any scholarship, I would be able to bring the positive change I know is desperately needed for the immigrant community. Whether it is lessening the constant paranoia of being taken away at any given moment or helping push for policies that can allow immigrants to obtain a variety of jobs, this scholarship will help me, help them by creating an environment in which it would be possible to live in the United States as a regular human being. Without any fears, without having to worry about basic human needs, and without having to give up on their dreams. I hope to be a figure that immigrants in my community can turn to. A figure who they can ask for support when it comes to the politics, policies, and overall the laws that help run the United States society and most importantly a figure that understands the same difficulties, hardships, and discrimination they have and are still experiencing because of the label, “immigrant”.

The calluses, blood, and subsequent pain that comes with working long hours at my construction job is as constant to me as the air I breathe. The scent of the wood from my construction job still lingers in my nose after a long day. When I go to sleep, the fragrance of the sweet flowery detergent my mother puts on my sheets is replaced by the smell of wet, muddy wood. Air conditioning cools down my body, usually still warm from the heavy heat of the sun’s rays that beamed on the back of my neck, sizzling my skin like a cooking steak. I struggle to savor the dinner in my mouth, trying to overcome the overpowering aroma of wood dust that snuck into my lips. With sore muscles and throbbing feet, I rush to read, do schoolwork, and check on my siblings. Often, I cry myself to sleep because of the pain I am in--two pains: the physical and the pain in my heart. However, the night before I spoke in the first community rally that I organized, “A Dream and a Reality”, I was shedding tears because of the realization that I was about to take an important step towards my dream of making the world a better place through my voice and actions. The next day, I found myself standing on a stage. Then, I turned to look at the familiar face of the sun I always looked to at my job, often begging it to shine elsewhere. The once-painful sun now illuminated me like a spotlight. At that moment, I became overwhelmingly grateful for the struggles and hardships I’d experienced because they shaped my determination to strive towards creating a label-less society through my passion for social justice and politics. Despite my uncomfortable experiences as an immigrant, I would rather live in the US where I have the opportunity to decide to explore work beyond construction and become a doctor or a teacher. In my home country, Honduras, the defining decision I had to make was whether to join the “MS-13 gang” or the “Salvatrucha gang.” As I stepped closer to the audience, I stepped nearer to my aspirations. Before I spoke, I thought, “I am risking my livelihood in this country by speaking out of a desire to bring a better life for my fellow undocumented individuals.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, relinquished my fear, and finally spoke not from the mind, but from the heart. I told my story. I talked about how my personal experiences as an immigrant living in the United States helped shape my uncommon goal of becoming the first non-US-born President. I shared my experience of shouldering the responsibility of both a family breadwinner and a student-led to my resilience and determination. After I was done speaking, I was humbled most when someone came up to thank me for reminding them to pursue once-deferred dreams, “Tu me inspiras a continuar a perseguir mis sueños, sueños que se murieron hace tiempo.” That moment was a building block in my own journey toward realizing my own future where I use my voice and commit to action for making a change. The memories, lessons, people, values that I’ve developed at the construction site were laying a foundation for the future I intend to build for myself and my family. A future where I will continue to pursue my ambitions and persevere past any barriers in the way. By pursuing higher education and continuing to expand my horizons, I will get closer to my goals and my dream of making the world a better place. In college, I'm ready to research frameworks on social change while pursuing my passion for politics and social justice. I will be the enlightened sun that shines upon others, giving out my strength and light to uplift all I encounter.

The calluses and blood, and the subsequent pain, that comes with working long hours at my construction job are as constant to me as the air I breathe. The work is taxing, and the scent of the wood lingers in my nose after each long day. When I go to sleep, the fragrance of the sweet flowery detergent my mother puts on my sheets is replaced by the smell of muddy wood. Work is feeling the heavy heat of the sun’s rays beaming on the back of my neck, sizzling my skin like a cooking steak. Work is eating lunch but fighting to taste the food through the overpowering flavor of wood dust that sneaks into my mouth. Work is coming home with bruised bones and throbbing feet to do schoolwork while finding time to volunteer and read. In my home country of Honduras, the only decision open to me was to join the Salvatrucha gang, so that, despite my uncomfortable experiences as an immigrant, I would rather live in the US where I have the opportunity to explore work beyond construction and become a doctor or teacher. Because of the limited opportunities and the danger, my family came to America. I do not have the luxury of missing work since the consequence would be not having enough money for food. With every choice I make, I fear the domino effect of potential missteps risking my family's presence in this country. Asking for federal assistance to maintain our basic dignity during difficult times is not an option. Even though my job causes me stress and pain, I understand the good that comes from work. I have learned that saying I want to make the world a better place is not enough. Working to provide my family with the resources they need motivates me to pursue my out-of-this-world dreams. Although I physically felt the same as most other nights, new emotions surged over me the evening before I spoke at my community rally. I often cried myself to sleep because of the pain I was in, but the tears I shed that night came from knowing I was about to take a step towards trying to make the world a better place through my voice and actions. The next day, I found myself on a stage, looking down into the audience, and then turning to the sun and its familiar face. It was the same warmth I felt at my job, where I would often beg it to shine elsewhere. The once-painful rays were now illuminating me like a spotlight. It was then that I became overwhelmed with gratitude for my struggles and hardships because they had shaped me into the determined and passionate individual I now was. As I stepped closer to the audience, I was also moving towards my aspirations. Before I spoke, I knew that I was risking my presence in this country, but I was motivated by my desire to bring better lives for my fellow undocumented individuals. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and finally spoke, not from the mind but from the heart. By pursuing higher education and expanding my horizons, I will get closer to my dream of making the world a better place, despite the adversities that will come my way. My college years will not be spent in the scorching sun doing backbreaking labor, but I am ready to pursue my passion for politics and social justice with equal determination. I hope to become an enlightening sun that shines upon others, giving strength and light to as many as possible.

The calluses and blood, and the subsequent pain, that comes with working long hours at my construction job are as constant to me as the air I breathe. The work is taxing, and the scent of the wood lingers in my nose after each long day. When I go to sleep, the fragrance of the sweet flowery detergent my mother puts on my sheets is replaced by the smell of wet, muddy wood. Work is feeling the heavy heat of the sun’s rays beaming on the back of my neck, sizzling my skin like a cooking steak. Work is eating lunch but fighting to taste the food through the overpowering flavor of wood dust that sneaks into my mouth. Work is coming home late with bruised bones and throbbing feet to do schoolwork and take care of my siblings while finding time to volunteer and read. In my home country of Honduras, the only decision open to me was whether to join the MS-13 or Salvatrucha gangs, so that, despite my uncomfortable experiences as an immigrant, I would rather live in the US where I have the opportunity to explore work beyond construction and become a doctor or a teacher. Because of the limited opportunities and the danger, my family came to America. I do not have the luxury of missing work since the consequence would be not having enough money for milk or eggs. With every choice I make, I fear the domino effect of potential missteps risking my family's presence in this country. Asking for federal assistance to maintain our basic dignity during difficult times is not an option. Even though my job causes me stress and pain, I understand the good that comes from work and commitment. I have learned that saying I want to make the world a better place is not enough. Working to provide my family with the resources they need motivates me to pursue my possibly out-of-this-world dreams. Although I physically felt the same as most other nights, new emotions surged over me the evening before I spoke at my first community rally. I often cried myself to sleep because of the pain I was in, but the tears I shed that night came from knowing I was about to take an important step towards trying to make the world a better place through my voice and actions. The next day, I found myself standing on a stage, looking down into the audience, and then turning to the sun and its familiar face. It was the same warmth I felt at my job, where I would often beg it to shine elsewhere. The once-painful rays were now illuminating me like a spotlight. It was then that I became almost overwhelmed with gratitude for my struggles and hardships because they had shaped me into the determined and passionate individual I now was. As I stepped closer to the audience, I was also moving nearer to my aspirations. Before I spoke, I knew that I was risking my presence in this country, but I was motivated by my desire to bring better lives for my fellow undocumented individuals. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, relinquished my fear, and finally spoke, not from the mind but from the heart. By pursuing higher education and continuing to expand my horizons, I will get closer to my goals and my dream of making the world a better place, despite the adversities that will come my way. My college years will not be spent in the scorching sun doing backbreaking labor, but I am ready to crack open books and pursue my passion for politics and social justice with equal determination. I hope to become an enlightening sun that shines upon others, giving strength and light to as many as possible.

What if we weren't separated by color? Country? What exactly defines one’s identity? If all human beings originated from the same source since the creation of the earth, then why do we have such labels in the world that we live in today? Growing up as a non-citizen in the United States, there were many times that I wished that the label non-citizen was nothing more than just a word. But sadly, this wish was nothing but a distant dream. Constantly, I faced injustices, hardships, and setbacks. Likewise, this also includes the fear of living with the constant thought of being deported to my home country, Honduras, where I could find myself in a life or death scenario. I came to the realization that without action change wasn't going to occur. If no one was going to help millions of non-citizens and myself who were suffering daily than I had to be the one to bring change. Now my young mind wants to challenge the label non-citizen that has brought and continues to bring terror to many lives. I know that in doing so it will not only help me grow as a person but also help me reach my goal to bring down the unbreakable wall that we non-citizens are forcefully confined to. This wall has brought many setbacks and hardships in my life, which is why I want to bring it down not only for myself but for those who like me are being subjugated by society itself. Although I have taken many actions that have helped me move forward towards my goals, such as signing a variety of petitions, setting up different virtual rallies, starting my own online organization to spread awareness of injustices that non-citizens face, and even going as far as contacting the president and many politicians, I still haven’t brought the change I want, which is why my dream is to become the first non-US born president. In order to reach this goal, I have participated in many internships and programs that provided me with an in-depth experience of how policies and laws work. An example of such a program was my internship with the department of the Mayor of Houston. There I was able to see how a person who was named the head of a city expresses himself and gives his all to anything that he was doing. Whether it was giving a speech about many ways we can better the Houston area or even trivial matter like having coffee with a staff, I always saw Mayor Turner act as another human being who wants to better every single person's life and not an immoral high ranking official`. This experience has helped develop the kind of person I aspire to be. In the future, I plan to attend the number one law school in the country which is Yale Law School. I will strive to be the top student amongst my class and prepare myself to the utmost of my abilities in order to defy society and change it as it has never been seen before. Likewise, in funding for my education know that you are contributing to a future where the word equality could be easily defined by looking at society, a future where everyone has equal opportunities, and a future where race, gender, and identity status in a country does not define a person. My dream is big, and I am fully aware that in the future many obstacles are going to stand before me that may make my dream difficult to obtain. Whether is defying society, going against the Constitution, or even having the world against, my hopeful, tenacious mindset fuels me to continue towards my goals even in the face of adversity.