I am a proud transgender, Black, and Latino student whose life has been shaped by resilience, identity, and a deep desire to create positive change in the world. My journey has not been easy—navigating the intersections of race, gender identity, and societal prejudice has been both a challenge and a source of strength. These experiences have fueled my commitment to advocate for underrepresented voices, especially those that are too often left out of the conversation in politics, diplomacy, and leadership. From a young age, I recognized that people like me—transgender, people of color, and individuals from marginalized communities—were rarely reflected in positions of influence. Whether in government, international organizations, or media, I saw a lack of representation and the damaging consequences that followed. My goal is to enter the field of international relations and diplomacy to change that narrative. I want to be a living example that people like me not only exist but also have the knowledge, skills, and determination to shape the future. My passion for bridging divides led me to found Across the Aisle SIO, a student-led organization dedicated to combating political polarization through civic education and respectful dialogue. This initiative began during my time at the Salve Regina University Summer Institute of Politics, where I witnessed firsthand how open conversation and empathy could break down walls between people with vastly different perspectives. Leading this organization has allowed me to connect with young leaders from across the country, create educational programming, and work on fostering an environment where every voice is heard. In addition, I run Core Insight MGT, a marketing agency that supports small businesses in building their brands and reaching their communities. Many of my clients are entrepreneurs of color, immigrants, and women—people whose dreams mirror my own desire for self-determination and impact. Through this work, I’ve learned valuable lessons in leadership, communication, and perseverance, all of which will serve me in my career in diplomacy. International relations appeals to me because it operates at the intersection of culture, policy, and human connection. I want to help craft solutions to global challenges—such as climate change, human rights violations, and economic inequality—while ensuring that marginalized communities are part of those solutions. Too often, policies are made without input from those most affected, and I believe my lived experience gives me a unique perspective on equity and inclusion in global affairs. This scholarship would be a transformative step toward my goals. As someone from a low-income background, the cost of higher education is a significant barrier. Without financial assistance, pursuing my studies in international relations at the level required for a diplomatic career would be extremely difficult. This scholarship would allow me to focus on my education, internships, and professional development without the constant strain of financial instability. Beyond the practical benefits, receiving this scholarship would represent an investment in my vision—a belief that my perspective, experiences, and determination matter. It would enable me to gain the skills, global exposure, and academic foundation necessary to enter the world stage and advocate for marginalized voices in spaces where they have long been excluded. My career is not just about personal success; it is about paving the way for others. I want to inspire the next generation of transgender youth, Black and Latino students, and those from underserved communities to know that their identities are not limitations but sources of power. With this scholarship, I will be one step closer to turning that vision into reality, ensuring that the world sees, hears, and values people like me—not as exceptions, but as leaders.

Growing up in a single-parent, low-income household taught me resilience early. Resources were often limited, but my mother’s determination to provide the best life possible showed me the value of hard work, creativity, and persistence. I learned to adapt, problem-solve, and find opportunities where others saw obstacles. Challenges such as balancing school responsibilities with part-time work or navigating academic setbacks without the same financial safety net as my peers forced me to be resourceful and self-motivated. These experiences have fueled my commitment to making a positive impact in my community. I founded Across the Aisle SIO, a student-led organization dedicated to bridging political divides through civic education and respectful dialogue. I also run Core Insight MGT, a marketing agency that supports small businesses—many of which face financial struggles similar to those I grew up around. I plan to use my voice and platforms to empower others who feel unseen or unheard, advocating for equitable access to opportunities in education, business, and civic engagement. By creating spaces for dialogue and providing tools for growth, I hope to help others overcome the barriers I once faced. Every step I take toward my goals is rooted in the lessons my upbringing taught me.

Over the past several years, I have balanced jobs, volunteer work, and leadership roles that have each shaped the way I see the world and the kind of person I aspire to become. While my résumé might list roles and responsibilities, what it cannot capture are the lessons—big and small—that I’ve carried forward from each experience and from the mentors who have guided me along the way. My work experience began with small local jobs, including assisting small businesses in my community. This eventually grew into my own entrepreneurial project: Core Insight MGT, a marketing agency I created to financially guide and promote small businesses. Working with clients like nail technicians, bakers, and photographers taught me early on how much trust is involved in business relationships. I learned to listen first, understand a client’s needs, and communicate solutions clearly. The independence of running a small business meant wearing many hats—marketer, organizer, communicator solving skills and discipline. Alongside my business, I immersed myself in volunteer work. The most defining of these efforts has been founding Across the Aisle SIO, a student-led social impact organization aimed at reducing political polarization through civic education and respectful dialogue. This initiative began after I attended the Summer Institute of Politics at Salve Regina University. There, I saw firsthand how productive, empathetic conversations could happen even between people with sharply different viewpoints. Across the Aisle became my way of replicating that experience for others across the country. Volunteer work has also connected me with mentors who have expanded my perspective. From community leaders to program directors, my mentors have shown me the value of persistence, even in the face of doubt or opposition. One mentor taught me that “leadership isn’t about having all the answers,it’s about creating the space for the answers to emerge.” Another modeled integrity by always doing the right thing, even when it was harder or less popular. These lessons have stayed with me in every leadership role I take on. Through these experiences, I’ve learned how much growth comes from stepping into spaces where you are not the most experienced person in the room. I’ve also learned that leadership is not a solo journey. The best results come from collaboration, seeking advice, building consensus, and allowing others to shine in their own areas of strength. Looking forward, I hope to expand both my professional and personal growth. Professionally, I want to continue building organizations and initiatives that empower communities to engage constructively, whether that’s in politics, education, or business. Personally, I aim to develop as a more empathetic and informed leader, one who is deeply attuned to the needs of others and skilled at bridging divides. I also want to grow in areas that challenge me, such as learning to delegate more effectively and trusting others with key responsibilities. As a self-starter, I sometimes take on too much, but I am realizing that empowering others to lead not only lightens my load but strengthens the overall mission. Ultimately, my goal is to use my voice and platform to create opportunities for others to be heard, whether they are small business owners struggling to find customers, students unsure how to get involved in civic life, or community members feeling disconnected from one another. My life so far has shown me that real change doesn’t always start in the halls of government or the headquarters of large corporations; it often starts in small conversations, shared goals, and the willingness to listen. I hope to be someone who not only achieves personal success but also creates ripples of positive impact in the lives of others.

To me, ensuring that “everyone has a voice” means more than simply allowing people to speak, it means creating the space, support, and respect that allows their perspectives to be heard, understood, and valued. In today’s political climate, where polarization and division dominate headlines and social media feeds, it is easy for certain voices to be silenced or dismissed simply because they do not align with the loudest narrative. I believe that democracy is strongest when diverse perspectives are included in the conversation, and I have made it my personal mission to amplify those voices especially for people like me who have experienced marginalization. This commitment came into focus during the Summer Institute of Politics at Salve Regina University. Surrounded by students from different political, cultural, and personal backgrounds, I began to see how open dialogue could bridge divides. At Salve, I didn’t just listen to others — I learned how to facilitate conversations that encouraged understanding without requiring agreement. It was there that the idea for Across the Aisle SIO was born. Across the Aisle SIO is a student-led initiative dedicated to combating political polarization by fostering civic engagement, empathy, and respectful dialogue among young people. Our core values center around inclusivity, mutual respect, and fact-based discussion. We believe in elevating underrepresented voices and encouraging participants to share their experiences without fear of ridicule or dismissal. Whether someone is speaking about their identity, their political beliefs, or their lived experiences, our goal is to ensure that their perspective is genuinely considered as part of the larger conversation. In my leadership role, I work intentionally to put these values into practice. I actively reach out to communities that often feel left out of the political process — LGBTQ+ youth, ethnic minority groups, and students who are disengaged from civic life. By hosting virtual dialogues, collaborative projects, and workshops, I make sure we are not just talking to the same group of people over and over again. Instead, we bring together voices from across the political spectrum, from different geographic regions, and from varied life experiences. In my daily life, I try to live out this value through small but intentional actions. In class discussions, I make space for quieter classmates to contribute, often asking for their thoughts or building on their points so others will listen. On social media, I share resources and stories from communities that aren’t getting enough attention in the mainstream news. In conversations with friends or peers, I ask questions with the goal of understanding, not winning an argument. I have promised myself to be a voice for people like me — those who have faced misunderstanding, discrimination, or exclusion — and to create platforms where they can speak for themselves. Ensuring everyone has a voice is not a one-time act; it’s a daily commitment to listening, amplifying, and standing up for the right of every person to be heard. Through Across the Aisle and in my everyday interactions, I am working to make that commitment a reality.

It’s hard to live without truly knowing who you are. Growing up as a transgender person, I faced the struggle of piecing together my identity while navigating a world that often told me I didn’t belong. In today’s political climate, that struggle has only become harder. The pressure to conform, the fear of being seen as “different,” and the constant debate over my right to exist were a heavy weight to carry, especially as a teenager. At school, I was relentlessly bullied for being myself. The names, the whispers, and the isolation wore me down over time. Eventually, the constant harassment began to feel unbearable, and I attempted suicide. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, it was that I couldn’t see a way to live in a world that seemed determined to erase me. My grades slipped, not because I didn’t care about school, but because survival became my full-time focus. Every day felt like a battle just to make it to the next one. Then, during my sophomore year, something happened that shattered what little sense of safety I had left. My school janitor, a trusted adult in the building, tried to initiate a sexual relationship with me. He framed it as “helping him find his identity,” but I knew it was wrong. I felt trapped between wanting to protect myself and not wanting to “ruin his life.” For a while, that fear kept me quiet. But the weight of what happened, and the knowledge that it could happen to someone else, finally pushed me to act. I went to my principal, filed a report, and eventually opened a police case. That meant I would have to face him in court, reliving the entire experience in front of strangers. It was one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever done. But it was also a turning point. For the first time, I saw that my voice could matter. Speaking up wasn’t just about me, it was about protecting others and showing that people like me deserve to be heard, believed, and defended. Everything I’ve been through, the bullying, the mental health struggles, the assault, could have broken me completely. And for a while, I thought they had. But over time, I’ve learned to see these experiences not just as pain I endured, but as fuel for my purpose. They have given me a perspective that can’t be taught in any classroom: the understanding of what it feels like to be silenced, ignored, and misrepresented. Now, I want to take that understanding and turn it into action. My goal is to pursue international law, with the long-term aim of earning a Ph.D. and representing those whose rights are violated simply because of who they are. I want to stand up for the people who are lied about in the media, targeted by discriminatory laws, and dismissed as less than human. I want to be a voice for the people who didn’t survive to see the change they fought for, those who died because of violence, hatred, or the unbearable weight of being told they don’t belong. The road ahead will not be easy. Law school is expensive, and pursuing an advanced degree is a long, demanding process. But every step I take is driven by the knowledge that my story is not unique, and that is exactly why it matters. There are countless others living through their own versions of my experiences, and many don’t have the platform, resources, or safety to speak out. I want to be their advocate, their defender, and their proof that survival.

I grew up in a low-income household where every dollar mattered. Since 7th grade, I’ve worked to help provide for my family, balancing schoolwork with the responsibility of making sure we had what we needed. Those experiences taught me resilience, perseverance, and the value of hard work, and they’ve fueled my determination to keep pushing forward with my education. My dream is to earn a Ph.D. in international law, a path that will allow me to advocate for human rights and bring global awareness to the struggles of marginalized communities. As a Black, Hispanic, and transgender individual, I have experienced firsthand the challenges that come with being part of multiple underrepresented groups. In times like these, when misinformation and prejudice are rampant, I want to stand up for people like me, those who are too often ignored, silenced, or misrepresented. I’ve already begun working toward that mission by founding a non-profit called Across the Aisle. Our goal is to combat political polarization, echo chambers, and confirmation bias while promoting civic education and civic engagement. Through dialogue circles, workshops, and community initiatives, we encourage people to bridge divides and think critically about the world around them. This work has shown me that change is possible when people are willing to listen and connect, and I want to expand that change on an international level. However, the journey to a legal career, especially one that includes earning a Ph.D., is costly. As someone who has been financially contributing to my household for years, I know the weight of those costs. This scholarship would ease that burden, allowing me to focus on my studies, my advocacy, and my long-term goals without having to constantly choose between financial stability and academic success. Education has always been more than just a personal goal for me, it’s a tool to create meaningful change. With your support, I can continue building a career dedicated to justice, equity, and the protection of human dignity worldwide. I want to be proof to the world that we are real, that our voices matter, and that no one’s identity should be a barrier to being treated with respect.

My favorite song on brat is definitely “sympathy is a knife.” It hits so hard for me because being transgender in high school feels exactly like what Charli sings about: people’s pity can feel sharp and suffocating instead of comforting. When you’re trans at that age, everyone suddenly has opinions about your life, your body, your identity—even when you never asked. Some people act nice to your face but secretly talk behind your back. Others make you feel like you’re some tragic story they can use to feel better about themselves. That pity can hurt more than open hate because it reminds you you’re seen as something broken, not just different. For me, “sympathy is a knife” captures the moment you realize you can’t live for other people’s approval or keep trying to fit into the boxes they put you in. In high school, it’s already hard enough to figure out who you are—but when you’re trans, there’s this extra layer of pressure, judgment, and constant fear that someone will turn on you. At some point, you really do have to say “Fuck it.” Not because you stop caring, but because caring too much about what others think will tear you apart. That’s why this song means so much to me. It feels like an anthem for letting go of guilt, shame, and the need to be understood by people who will never truly get it. Instead, it’s about owning who you are, scars and all, and refusing to let pity or prejudice define you. In a weird way, it makes me feel strong—and seen. And that’s why it’s my favorite.

One lyric from Olivia Rodrigo’s GUTS that deeply resonates with my own teenage experience is from the song “teenage dream”: “When am I gonna stop being great for my age and just start being good?” This line captures a quiet but powerful fear that so many teenagers feel: the fear of outgrowing the things that once made us special, and the pressure to keep proving our worth as we get older. As a teenager, you’re constantly praised for your “potential” or for being “good for your age.” But hidden in that praise is an expiration date—an unspoken warning that eventually, the world will expect more, and being young won’t be enough. When I heard that lyric, it felt like Olivia had put words to an anxiety I couldn’t fully name back then. Adolescence is already a time when you’re caught between who you were and who you’re becoming. You’re told to dream big, but you’re also told to be realistic. You’re celebrated for small victories, but those victories start to feel hollow when you realize they come with the assumption that you’ll have to do even better tomorrow. For me, this lyric reminds me of staying up late at night worrying if I’d ever live up to my own expectations—or anyone else’s. It speaks to the pressure to keep achieving, to be interesting, to keep evolving, and to never let anyone see you fall behind. And beneath that pressure is a fear that maybe you were only special because you were young, and that as you grow older, you’ll lose the very thing that made you feel worthy. Olivia’s words capture the bittersweet essence of adolescence: it’s a time of big dreams, but also of deep insecurities; a time when your identity feels fragile, and the line between who you are and who you’re supposed to be is painfully thin. “When am I gonna stop being great for my age and just start being good?” shows the moment when childhood confidence fades, and self-doubt takes its place—a universal experience for so many teenagers who feel like they’re running out of time to “figure it all out.” In the end, this lyric doesn’t just speak to fear—it speaks to growth. It acknowledges that moving from childhood into adulthood means losing certain comforts, but it also challenges us to redefine what makes us “good.” Not because of our age, but because of who we truly are. That honesty—and the vulnerability in admitting that fear—is what makes Olivia Rodrigo’s music resonate so deeply. It makes teenagers feel seen, and it reminds us that even in the uncertainty of growing up, we’re not alone.

Being transgender is hard in ways that most people will never truly understand. It’s living each day with fear as a constant shadow, feeling eyes burning into your back, wondering if today is the day someone’s hate will boil over into violence. It’s waking up every morning not knowing if you’ll make it to tomorrow—yet still daring to fight for the right to be the person you know you are. There is a little girl inside me—she has always been there, waiting, crying to be let out. She isn’t some fantasy or phase; she’s real. And every day, I try to bring her closer to the surface, even when the world tells me she shouldn’t exist. Because to live in hiding is to slowly die inside. The world doesn’t see her softness, her hope, or her love. Too many see only what they choose to hate. Being trans means carrying the weight of other people’s ignorance and fear. It means glancing over your shoulder when you walk down the street. It means questioning who you can trust, worrying if someone will use your name or your body against you. The fear never completely goes away; it just becomes something you learn to live with. It seeps into the quiet moments—the bathroom mirror, the bus ride home, the late-night walk—and whispers that you don’t belong, that danger could be waiting anywhere. Yet even in that fear, there is something powerful. There’s a stubborn, unbreakable will to live as who you truly are. To look in the mirror and see your reflection slowly become the person you’ve always known inside. To speak your name out loud, even if your voice trembles. To say: I exist. I matter. I refuse to disappear. For every trans person who speaks up, there are countless others suffering in silence—afraid to come out, afraid to ask for help, afraid to be seen. And that isn’t okay. No one should have to beg for the right to be themselves. No one should have to risk losing their family, their job, or even their life just to live openly. Yet this is the reality that trans people face every single day. I want to advocate for those who can’t speak. For the little girl inside me—and inside so many others—who deserves to live, laugh, and love without fear. For the boys and girls and nonbinary souls who feel like the world has no place for them. We need to be louder than the hate. We need to fight not only for ourselves but for every trans kid growing up right now, silently wishing for a tomorrow where they can simply exist. Being transgender is hard. It’s terrifying. But it’s also brave beyond words. And it is worth fighting for—because everyone deserves to live as the person they truly are. And because every trans life is precious, beautiful, and necessary in this world.

There are moments in life when a song, an artist, or even just a few words can become something much bigger than music—they become a lifeline. For me, that lifeline was Sabrina Carpenter. Her music, voice, and the honesty she pours into her work helped me find the courage to save myself from something that could have scarred me forever. It happened during a painful, confusing time in middle school. I was only a kid, and there was a janitor at my school who started giving me attention that felt wrong. At first, I tried to convince myself it was harmless: maybe he was just being friendly, maybe I was overthinking. But deep down, I felt the dread growing every time he lingered too close or found excuses to talk to me alone. I was terrified, ashamed, and above all, afraid that no one would believe me if I spoke up. It was during this time that I discovered Sabrina Carpenter. One night, feeling scared and alone, I put on my headphones and listened to her song “Thumbs.” The lyrics about not letting the world and its patterns trap you struck me in a way I can’t fully explain. It made me feel seen, like someone understood what it was like to feel small in a world that keeps spinning, expecting you to stay quiet. Her voice was warm and strong, and it gave me something I desperately needed: hope. I began to listen to more of her music. Songs like “Eyes Wide Open” and “Sue Me” filled me with strength I didn’t know I had. Sabrina’s message of self-empowerment and owning your truth helped me find my own voice. Slowly, I stopped blaming myself for what was happening. I realized that I didn’t have to stay silent—that speaking up wasn’t just allowed, it was necessary. One day, after weeks of building up the courage, I told my mom everything. My voice shook, my heart raced, but I got the words out. The fear that had been controlling me started to lift, replaced by relief and pride that I had finally taken a stand. Thanks to speaking up before anything worse could happen, I was protected from something that might have haunted me for the rest of my life. Sabrina Carpenter doesn’t know me, and she’ll probably never hear my story. But through her songs and the way she carries herself—fearlessly and unapologetically—she helped me find the courage to protect myself. In that sense, she changed my life forever. She taught me that my voice matters, that I deserve to feel safe, and that I don’t have to be silent about what scares me. Whenever I listen to her music now, I’m reminded of the strength I found when I needed it most. And I’m grateful—not just for the songs, but for the way they lit a path forward when everything felt dark. Sabrina Carpenter helped me believe in myself, and in doing so, helped me write a different ending to my story—one where I wasn’t a victim, but someone brave enough to speak up.