My ideal future self is an advocate, author, public speaker, and policy advisor who specializes in the study of democracy and authoritarian regimes, helps democracy activists within the United States and abroad to voice their needs to their respective governments, and designs political development programs that improve the lives and well-being of people worldwide.

The first time I voted for president, it was 2020 and I was in Hong Kong. As American citizens, my family and I had to submit our ballots from the other side of the world, in the midst of a pandemic and rising political tension in the United States. Our fellow expats were also voting but found difficulties and delays in being sent their ballots. With rumors of election fraud and interference abound, participation in our country's democracy was a confusing and frustrating experience. In contrast to the pro-democracy and anti-extradition protests happening in Hong Kong at the time, our situation was certainly preferable. However, voter participation, disinformation, and conspiracy are still issues in the United States that threaten and weaken our democracy. That is why upholding our Constitution is so important. Encouraging voter participation requires educating the public on their power in a democracy. The civil liberties guaranteed to every American citizen should not be stalled based on political affiliation, race, or gender. To provide liberty and justice, the people of the United States must be granted the freedom, education, and opportunity to fully participate in free and fair elections. This can be accomplished by squashing disinformation tactics, increasing civic engagement, and maintaining a human connection between political candidates and their constituents. The distrust in the government is fostered by an immense dissatisfaction with its slowness, hypocrisy and condescending approach to the American people. Without repair, the rise of populism and extremist movements will appeal to the people where the government cannot. American democracy cannot be saved by empty promises, but it can be saved by its people and their active mission to uphold the truth. Liberty and justice for all can only be achieved if Americans can believe that such things can truly exist, and therefore have faith in the voting system. Many young people today are educated about politics and dedicated to making a significant and lasting change. But we cannot leave out older generations or continue the narrative that their beliefs and emotions are outdated or unnecessary. Instead, we can learn from them about what has or has not worked in the past, and they can learn from us about what must be done in the future. By organizing classes or meetings with instructive sessions on how, when and where to vote, we can encourage all people to take part in their rights as citizens. Second, we can create stronger bridges between candidates and the people who may disagree with them. Diplomatic approaches to domestic policy begin with the campaign. We can't leave each other behind and build a new house on shifting soil. However, we cannot compromise on issues such as equal rights and liberties. This forces the question of how to tolerate intolerance, and how to democratically dissuade populism and authoritarian initiatives. My goal for my academic career is to continue researching what keeps democracy alive and healthy, and I have done so by volunteering with institutes such as the Renew Democracy Initiative. There is no perfect government, but with so many people struggling for freedom from autocracy around the world, I can justifiably believe that the democracy our Constitution promises is worth fighting for. I would like to develop programs to monitor and improve democratic health in the United States and abroad. My research as a graduate student and future Ph.D candidate will help me do this by granting me a thorough and broad understanding of democracy's subjective weak points, as well as its strengths.

The first time I voted for president, it was 2020 and I was in Hong Kong. As American citizens, my family and I had to submit our ballots from the other side of the world, in the midst of a pandemic and rising political tension in the United States. Our fellow expats were also voting but found difficulties and delays in being sent their ballots. One couple even found that the husband's ballot was sent faster when he registered as a Republican - even though both had requested from the same state on the same day. With rumors of election fraud and interference abound, the participation in our country's democracy was a confusing and frustrating experience. In contrast to the pro-democracy and anti-extradition protests happening in Hong Kong at the time, our situation was certainly preferable. However, voter participation, disinformation, and conspiracy are still issues in the United States that threaten and weaken our democracy. Encouraging voter participation requires educating the public on their power in a democracy. The civil liberties guaranteed to every American citizen should not be stalled based on political affiliation, race, or gender. To provide liberty and justice, the people of the United States must be granted the freedom, education, and opportunity to fully participate in free and fair elections. This can be accomplished by squashing disinformation tactics, increasing civic engagement, and maintaining a human connection between political candidates and their constituents. The distrust in the government is fostered by an immense dissatisfaction with its slowness, hypocrisy and condescending approach to the American people. Without repair, the rise of populism and extremist movements will appeal to the people where the government cannot. Too many people in the election of 2016 believed that their vote did not matter. Too many lies were told about who was to blame for America's missteps. American democracy cannot be saved by empty promises, but it can be saved by its people and their active mission to uphold the truth. Liberty and justice for all can only be achieved if Americans are able to believe that such things can truly exist, and therefore have faith in the voting system. So how can we restore this faith? First, we can inform people on how to recognize disinformation. Appealing to target groups such as youth can spread the message by the mile, via platforms such as Instagram and Telegram. Many young people today are educated on politics and dedicated to making a significant and lasting change. But we cannot leave out older generations or continue the narrative that their beliefs and emotions are outdated or unnecessary. Instead, we can learn from them about what has or has not worked in the past, and they can learn from us about what must be done in the future. By organizing classes or meetings with instructive sessions on how, when and where to vote, we can encourage all people to take part in their rights as citizens. Second, we can create stronger bridges between candidates and the people who may disagree with them. Talking in person to their "atypical" base will foster better understanding of what their goals are- and may even help them to recognize that we all want the same things. Diplomatic approaches to domestic policy begin with the campaign. We can't leave each other behind and build a new house on shifting soil. However, we cannot compromise on issues such as equal rights and liberties. This forces the question of how to tolerate intolerance, and how to democratically dissuade populism and authoritarian initiatives. My goal for my academic career is to continue researching what keeps a democracy alive and healthy, by volunteering with institutes such as the Renew Democracy Initiative and potentially interning at the Partnership for Public Service's Center for Presidential Transition. What I would be most interested in discovering would be the lasting effects of compromise in a democracy. By fighting for universal voting rights, are we giving too many people a voice? Is it really possible to satisfy everyone, or even reasonable to try? These are questions that I would like to answer with my research. There is no perfect government, but so many people struggling for freedom from autocracy around the world that I can justifiably believe that democracy is worth fighting for. I would like to develop programs to monitor and improve democratic health in the United States and abroad. My research as a graduate student and future Ph.D candidate will help me do this by granting me a thorough and broad understanding of democracy's subjective weak points, as well as its strengths.

I am a writer because I am a reader. My love of reading started young, and it was because reading was something that my dad and I did together. My dad, a pilot for the Air Force and later FedEx, was often gone on trips for weeks at a time. But he wanted to spend time with me whenever he could. Since he often came home late at night, the one thing he was able to squeeze in was a bedtime story with me, sitting on the edge of my mattress, still in his uniform. Spending that rare time with him is even more valuable to me now as a graduate student, because I know how tired he was. This is one reason why I love reading and writing stories, because they remind us of the valuable connections we can create with each other. The second thing I love about stories is the fact that something someone wrote one hundred years ago can still be relevant today. You know how you listen to a song and it perfectly captures what you're feeling at that moment? I feel the same persists in books, but tenfold. I will never forget how The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen precisely described the nuance of being caught between two worlds, an existence which I, as an African-American born and raised in Japan and Germany, had always felt but could hardly articulate. The lessons taken from books, stories, and other forms of writing are also destined to last through the ages. One of my favorite quotes by Albert Camus is posted to my corkboard; "Happiness, too, is inevitable." As someone who has struggled with depression, this four-word quote is important to help me remember that better days are just as unavoidable as dark seasons. I hope one day to write something as inspiring for someone who needs it at that exact moment. The third thing I love about writing is the opportunity to explore existing realities or create new ones. Nonfiction books that examine history from a new angle, or speculative fiction that consider alternative timelines are both fascinating to me as a student of political science and international affairs. As a former film major, I was inspired by the work of Jordan Peele and Rod Serling to write screenplays that would examine social issues with magic realism, horror, or absurdism. Although I previously wanted to write for the screen, I now believe that my interests better suit the medium of books. One of my personal goals is to write someone's favorite book, as someone wrote mine, and someone else wrote theirs. I have published a couple of short stories and even a short romance novella that examine the human aspects of the issues that I explore in my studies and political work. From the debatable morality of revenge to the consequences of complacency in authoritarian regimes, my stories so far have inherited my initial motivation as a film student to cast social issues in a new light. I want to write fiction and nonfiction on the complexities of history and individualism. Most importantly, I want to create characters that anyone can see themselves in. By uplifting our common humanity and all of its good and bad capabilities with my writing, I hope to become an author who is known for her introspection, philosophy and knowledge.

In the early 60s, my grandfather became the first in his family to graduate from high school. As the son of two African-American sharecroppers in South Carolina, he spent most of his childhood helping them raise sugarcane and his seven younger siblings. His parents, neither of whom had been able to receive an education beyond the third grade, knew that this was the key for all eight of their children to leave the cycle of poverty after the abolition of slavery. They stressed that hard work, faith, and education were essential for success. My grandfather carried this message with him to the Marines. He served in Germany before returning to the States and falling in love with my grandmother- who had also grown up poor in South Carolina. My grandparents instilled their values of education and financial independence into their son, my father. They wanted to give him everything they never had- access, opportunity, and upward movement in society. Although moving north was meant to provide this, my father, raised in the Bronx during the 70s and 80s, witnessed the causes and effects of drug abuse, crime, and murder from a young age. My grandmother forbid my father from wearing any jewelry, watches, or shoes that might motivate someone to kill him for them. He even had a friend that was murdered for "disrespecting" a gang member- but this was sadly considered normal. As a young black man in the Bronx, he was surrounded by friends, peer pressure, and bad influences. My grandmother did not want to lose her only son to violence, so she transferred him to an expensive Catholic school. It was here that my father was able to focus on his studies and eventually enroll in the Air Force Academy, leaving the Bronx behind forever at the age of 18. He is now a pilot for FedEx. Because of the hard work, faith, and education instilled in him that I was able to pursue the otherwise impossible opportunities available to me. My grandparents did not have much at the time, but the generational wealth of sacrifice and wisdom they were able to give him and my aunt were priceless. Because of my father's family, I know that generational wealth is about creating a foundation that your children can continue to build upon. The expenses of college arguably outweigh the benefits, but these benefits are exponentially greater for underprivileged minorities, women, and first-generation students. Many students, intelligent, capable and ambitious, are unable to follow their dreams simply because their economic backgrounds do not allow them to work unpaid internships or settle for volunteer opportunities that "might" lead to employment later. Furthermore, student debt places such ambitious people in a hole that they are unfairly blamed for. Generational wealth creates new cycles of progress, knowledge, and potential. I plan to achieve this for my children by continuing the legacy of hard work, faith, and education preceding me. After graduating from George Washington, I will apply for a Ph.D. in Political Science and become an authority on democratization, so I can help inform policy that will grant global citizens a better say in their destinies. It is my goal to inspire personal generational wealth for my family, and greater generational wealth for the world, where our children will continue to inherit and foster civil rights, liberties, potential, and opportunity.

Education has always been the key to success for my family. My father, the son of two sharecroppers who had grown up in poor, rural South Carolina, was born and raised in the Bronx during the 70s and 80s. Surrounded by crime, drugs and disorder, his mother pushed him to do well in school so he wouldn't end up in jail or in the ground. From an early age, my dad had an interest in being an astronaut or a pilot. My grandmother recognized this and transferred him from public school in the heart of the Bronx to a private Catholic institute, where he eventually earned the grades and the recommendation of a senator to attend the Air Force Academy tuition-free. He served in the Air Force for ten years and is now a captain for FedEx. My mother was the first in her family to go to university. Her people were immigrants from Germany and Jamaica, who had worked as farmers, cooks, taxi drivers, and teachers to reach their versions of the American dream. As immigrants who struggled to speak unaccented English or were discriminated against for their nationality, they encouraged assimilation by education. However, this instilled some toxic practices and beliefs in her immediate family, so my mother's main goal in going to university was escaping the influence of her parents. Inspired to help people, my mother enrolled in nursing school and eventually joined the Air Force, where she met my father. Two years after they married, she graduated from college on time and walked across the stage with me in her belly. Her experience as a pregnant, married woman in college informed her outlook on education, and she has stressed to my sisters and I that getting an education before settling down is essential. Learning is important to me because it has opened so many doors for my family. Education is also achieved outside of the classroom. My sisters and I partially grew up in Germany and Hong Kong because of our father's job, and we were exposed to a variety of cultures, beliefs and perspectives. This experience has encouraged me to be receptive of opposing views, even if I do not agree with them. As an aspiring foreign policy professional, being open to learning about other cultures is necessary for creating nuanced and effective policy. I am thankful for my parents' hard work in the past that allowed my sisters and I to grow up the way we did. Now, as a graduate student of international affairs, I plan to keep learning by taking advantage of all opportunities that are available to me. I recently applied for the Arizona State University's Critical Language Institute to study Russian next summer. Learning new languages grants insight to new interpretations of the world, and this will be greatly beneficial as someone who wants to work in foreign policy. I also plan to learn by traveling, meeting people, and listening to their stories. I hope to learn and to teach outside of a classroom by attaining a Ph.D. in Political Science or Governance. In doing so, I would become the first Ph.D. on both sides of my family and continue our great legacy of learning.

Representation is bigger than just seeing yourself on the big screen. Representation means that every level of society, outreach, and influence respects and acknowledges the subjective and unique experiences of a certain group. This means that civil planners are aware of the needs of disabled individuals, that education caters to the varied abilities, finances, and interests of students, and all elections are entirely free and fair. By granting people with these experiences and perspectives a place in administrative decision-making, equity is a more likely possibility for our future. This is why I am passionate about building, promoting, and protecting democracy domestically and abroad. The word "diversity" has become somewhat of a sensitive buzzword, with misguided connotations of "reverse discrimination" or even granting someone a position simply because of their race, gender or sexual identity. I believe diversity is more than just identity; it means employing and actively encouraging the participation of people who grew up in poverty, served in the military, attended community college, dropped out of school entirely, are young/teen parents, or even endured struggles with mental health. These grant valuable perspectives that widen our understanding of society and humanity. Furthermore, it allows us to see exactly where we overlap. This is why democracy is so important, because it permits many voices to speak up and be heard at once. However, this freedom also provides a platform for extremist views to come to the surface. This is another reason why democracy is sacred- the collective resistance to extremist and harmful views can cancel out their influence in elections and prevent violence against targeted groups. I currently work to protect democracy by working at the U.S. Helsinki Commission, where we are presently working with Ukrainain, Belarusian and Russian activists who have been impacted by Vladimir Putin's regime. As the midterms approach, I am also encouraging my fellow students to participate in their right to vote. As an African-American woman, my right to vote is something that is highly valued, as I recognize the long fight and sacrifice made for me to do so. My heritage is another great reason why I hope to fight for universal suffrage. Currently, as fights for democracy in Iran, Russia, Hong Kong, and elsewhere continue to go on, I am determined to emphasize how vital global democracy is. Even if the democracy of other nations does not directly emulate that of the United States, the vocal outcries against autocracy show that democracy of any iteration is preferable to authoritarianism. I hope to contribute to this fight as an expert in democracy and authoritarian politics after gaining my Ph.D. in Political Science or Governance.

As an African-American, I grew up in a community that dismissed issues of depression, anxiety and mental health as a "white people" problem. Therapy was also considered a "white people" solution. Prayer and going to church are often recommended to African-Americans struggling with their mental health, and discussion of such struggles is prohibited or forbidden to uphold the image of the family. Furthermore, the rationalization of why you have "no reason" to be depressed is prevalent. You have food, clothes, and a place to live. So why should you be depressed? I believe this cultural sentiment is founded in the legacy of slavery and the struggle for civil rights. When you are fighting for your personal freedom or the right to be considered a citizen (and even a human being), there is little to no time for thinking about your mental health because the external consequences of inaction or hesitance are far more urgent. African-Americans forgo or diminish the importance of mental health because survival and hardiness in the face of oppression has always been our strength. Now, we are opening up more conversations about mental health in the African-American community. But the damage done will take time to fix. This cultural context is important for me to mention because my struggles with mental health were attributed to a lack of faith and ungratefulness. I suffered from anxiety and depression as a young black girl who was bullied for her acne, shyness, and academic focus. Every day at school was difficult because the black kids actively excluded me for not being "black enough", and I was generally picked on for being quiet and an easy target. Whenever I broke down or felt too overwhelmed to go to school, my mother told me that I wasn't praying enough or that I was being plagued by the devil. She couldn't see that the bullying at school was making me act out in anger at home. I felt I had no one that I could talk to, and this made my depression worse. Mental health is important because it affects how we see and treat ourselves and the world. For most of my life I have endured depression and anxiety that was often ignored or diminished by family, even when I openly expressed that I needed help. I felt ugly, worthless, and lonely. I didn't start therapy until my third year of undergraduate study, because I had also internalized the idea that therapy was for "weak people". Being isolated during the pandemic made me finally accept that I needed professional help. Things got so bad that I didn't want to exist anymore. I hated myself so much for my failures, my inconsistencies, and my appearance. I felt that nobody would care if I was gone. Therapy helped me get to the root of my self-loathing and depression. My therapist, Amber, was the first person to really listen to me. She gave me several mental exercises to do when I get overwhelmed. This helped me to feel better, but I even had to hide these sessions from my parents to avoid judgment. Now I maintain my mental wellness by exercising, keeping a list of my positive qualities, and scheduling things to look forward to. I practice my religion in a healthy way. I remember that life is always more than the present moment. I also remember a quote by Albert Camus, one of my favorite authors: "Happiness, too, is inevitable." While it is true that every person is destined to have dark seasons, happiness is also an unavoidable fact of life. Because of my personal experience and heritage, I believe the mental health of a nation is entirely contingent upon the freedoms, rights, and social provisions given to its people. I hope to become an expert in democracy and authoritarianism. I want to learn more about their inner workings, the effect of such governments on their people, and the decision-making processes. This will allow me to see the effects of democracy and autocracy on the mental health of a people, and how it impacts their view of the world and themselves. I am also planning to study the development of such non-democratic nations, as well as causes and motives of war, genocide and violence from a non-democratic perspective. I hope that by studying non-democratic nations I will be able to become an expert in developing strategies towards engaging with them and assist any transitions to democracy if so desired by their people. Professionally, I would like to become a public speaker, policy advisor, and author who writes books that analyze international relations at an individual level, from the impact of the world or a government on one person to that of one person on their government or the world. The fight for freedom certainly impacts the mental health of a nation, and I plan to integrate this awareness and lessons from my own heritage into my work as a democratization and authoritarianism expert.

As an African-American, I grew up in a community that dismissed issues of depression, anxiety and mental health as a "white people" problem. Therapy was also considered a "white people" solution. Prayer and going to church are often recommended to African-Americans struggling with their mental health, and discussion of such struggles is prohibited or forbidden to uphold the image of the family. Furthermore, the rationalization of why you have "no reason" to be depressed is prevalent. You have food, clothes, and a place to live. So why should you be depressed? I believe this cultural sentiment is founded in the legacy of slavery and the struggle for civil rights. When you are fighting for your personal freedom or the right to be considered a citizen (and even a human being), there is little to no time for thinking about your mental health because the external consequences of inaction or hesitance are far more urgent. African-Americans forgo or diminish the importance of mental health because survival and hardiness in the face of oppression has always been our strength. Now, we are opening up more conversations about mental health in the African-American community. But the damage done will take time to fix. This cultural context is important for me to mention because my struggles with mental health were attributed to a lack of faith and ungratefulness. I suffered from anxiety and depression as a young black girl who was bullied for her acne, shyness, and academic focus. Every day at school was difficult because the black kids actively excluded me for not being "black enough", and I was generally picked on for being quiet and an easy target. Whenever I broke down or felt too overwhelmed to go to school, my mother told me that I wasn't praying enough or that I was being plagued by the devil. She couldn't see that the bullying at school was making me act out in anger at home. I felt I had no one that I could talk to, and this made my depression worse. Mental health is important because it affects how we see and treat ourselves and the world. For most of my life I have endured depression and anxiety that was often ignored or diminished by family, even when I openly expressed that I needed help. I felt ugly, worthless, and lonely. I didn't start therapy until my third year of undergraduate study, because I had also internalized the idea that therapy was for "weak people". Being isolated during the pandemic made me finally accept that I needed professional help. Things got so bad that I didn't want to exist anymore. I hated myself so much for my failures, my inconsistencies, and my appearance. I felt that nobody would care if I was gone. Therapy helped me get to the root of my self-loathing and depression. My therapist, Amber, was the first person to really listen to me. She gave me several mental exercises to do when I get overwhelmed. This helped me to feel better, but I even had to hide these sessions from my parents to avoid judgment. Now I maintain my mental wellness by exercising, keeping a list of my positive qualities, and scheduling things to look forward to. I practice my religion in a healthy way. I remember that life is always more than the present moment. I also remember a quote by Albert Camus, one of my favorite authors: "Happiness, too, is inevitable." While it is true that every person is destined to have dark seasons, happiness is also an unavoidable fact of life.

At my first congressional hearing, I listened to a Ukrainian medic who testified about being captured and tortured by Russian forces. Everyone in the room was silent as she recounted her story in heavily accented English, every now and then asking her translator to clarify a word. But we were all drawn into her testimony, as she recalled her torturer asking if she knew why he was doing this to her. "Because you can." She had told him. "You do this simply because you can." The story of Taira Paievska, who treated both Ukrainian and Russian soldiers alike on the battlefield, humbled me as an American graduate student in DC. To study the value of democracy in class is one thing, but to listen to the experiences of those affected, imprisoned, or tortured by autocratic nations makes the matter ever more urgent. To combat these destructive regimes, we have to understand how they work and refuse to compromise. Authoritarian leaders will do as much as they are allowed. By "forgiving" instances such as the murder of Jamal Khashoggi or the annexation of Crimea, we are essentially telling autocrats that we will look the other way as they commit crimes, as long as we can continue an economic relationship. History has shown that appeasement of dictators never works, and only leads to deadly consequences. It is my goal to become an expert in the administrative organs and processes of authoritarian rule. How do they maintain their power? How do they install fear? How do they limit freedom or permit just enough to keep the country under their control? And how do we support people who want democracy in those areas? I am passionate about the impact that an individual can have on their society, and history boasts many examples. Tank Man in Tianenmen Square, an unidentified worker standing up to the brutal machine of repression, inspired millions around the world fighting for democracy. Sophie Scholl was almost my age when she gave up her life to protect her fellow White Rose members against the Nazi regime, and showed that no person was too young to know and fight for the truth. Nelson Mandela, who I share a birthday with, spent years in prison for his work to free South Africa from apartheid and still remains a symbol of hope and freedom worldwide. And there are still so many more that prove anyone can make a significant difference, simply by being the first to say that freedom is worth fighting, living or dying for. Recently, I met with a young Russian woman, only eighteen years old, who had left Russia to study at George Washington University. Her parents had moved as far as their passports would allow them to escape Putin’s regime but could not join her in the United States. She is now working with the Free Russia Foundation. After listening to her passion for the freedom of her homeland and her love for her family, I realized what I want to do. I want to become an authority on democratization and authoritarian politics so I can help fight for freedom and self-determination around the world. I will accomplish this by completing my master’s from George Washington University and a Ph.D. in Political Science or Governance. This scholarship will help me graduate debt free from George Washington so I can dedicate myself fully to becoming an expert who can educate, advocate and inspire all who value and strive for democracy.

"Thank you for your application. Unfortunately..." Rejection hurts on a professional, personal and academic level. Were you not good enough? Not smart enough? During the summer of 2020, I was rejected from every paid internship and scholarship I applied for. As a transfer student starting over, I compared myself to others who received multiple scholarships or internships at NASA or the State Department on the first try. I felt like something was wrong with me. Billy Joel's Vienna is the first song that spoke to my exact situation. I have always been told how smart I am, but I am constantly afraid of failure. I have always been ambitious and wanted to do great things. This ambition has led me to great places, but it has also caused me to burn out or break down when I am rejected or believe that I have failed. Where's the fire, what's the hurry about? My parents, both African-Americans, are veterans who believe education is the key to success. When I transferred from film school to study political science, my parents believed I had wasted two years of time and money. I could not disappoint them again. Vienna is about being ambitious without losing your appreciation for life. The song emphasizes you can't be everything you want to be before your time. And there's nothing wrong with having dreams, but don't expect they'll all come true. So why rush into a breakdown? I can have ambition without sacrificing my mental health. And I can be rejected without losing my self-worth. I believe that Vienna means destiny, that what will be comes in its due time, and that if we become too eager to meet it, we will have missed all the joys of being young and having dreams.

When I first went to college, I didn’t believe in the “Freshman Fifteen”. But the excitement of starting on a new campus, in a new city, with new friends, and my new wallet, readily made my predetermined resistance futile. I gained about twenty pounds during my first year of university. This affected my mental and physical health, as my self-image was disrupted by what I saw in the mirror and the exhaustion I felt when I walked to class. During the pandemic, I had to leave my dorm in North Carolina to stay with my parents in Hong Kong. I lost about fifteen pounds as I ate leaner, greener foods and hiked the hills of the city. Now, as a graduate student at the George Washington University, the international foods and lack of parental supervision are certainly tempting. However, I have learned that food and exercise can be the focal points of health for students. Health and wellness have been important topics for me throughout my life. My family has a history of breast cancer, diabetes, and alcoholism on both sides. My mother has been adamant on the importance of mammograms, healthy eating, exercise, and yearly checkups, to ensure that any afflictions can be detected early or prevented completely. In college, however, it is easy to forget taking care of your body outside of the occasional pharmacy run for painkillers or Band-Aids. If I were to give any health advice to my college freshman self, I would tell her to integrate small rituals into her daily schedule. For example, taking a multivitamin every morning with breakfast. I do this now as a graduate student, and it is easy enough to remember that I do it every day. Additionally, I would tell her to remember that wanting a snack was not the same as being hungry. But food that feels good for the moment only does so for that moment. This contributed to my unfortunate weight gain. I used to think that walking to class counted as my exercise for the day. This did not cancel out my overeating. My practical approach to resolving this problem is taking advantage of any on-campus gyms or sports clubs. Even taking walks into town instead of calling an Uber, or simply going outside to enjoy nature, are excellent ways to get some exercise. One way to integrate this into a busy schedule is to make an excuse to get exercise. For example, if you want to order food and the restaurant is a half mile away, walk to pick it up instead of having it delivered to you. Or, ask to see your professor in person instead of over Zoom and walk to meet them in the campus cafe. This is a helpful adage to live by, and one that I live by now, as I often make excuses to get exercise by walking to my local bookstore, to campus, or to see the museums nearby. Ultimately, a healthy lifestyle in college is difficult, but not impossible. It requires self-discipline and must be an everyday effort. If you eat until you are no longer hungry, you will find that you don’t actually need to eat as much throughout the day. If you make excuses to exercise, you might discover that it is more enjoyable to go out into the world instead of expecting it to come to you. These are the best habits to begin in college, because they will remain consistent throughout the rest of your life. Finally, if you take care of yourself now, you will definitely thank yourself later.

"Syracuse is a great school." My mentor, Ambassador Harriet Elam-Thomas, told me over the phone as I stressed over which graduate program to attend. Syracuse had offered me a generous financial aid package. George Washington had hardly provided enough to cover one class per semester. But my heart was set on George Washington for its location, faculty, and resources, and I was waiting for the Ambassador to confirm that it would be worth the risk. "You know, Joe Biden graduated from Syracuse. It's got a great international relations program. And you might not have to pay a cent. If I were you..." Ambassador Elam-Thomas had advised me throughout my junior and senior years at the University of Central Florida. She had written several of my grad school reference letters and even paid for two of my applications. Her journey as a young black woman who became a U.S. Ambassador to Senegal inspired me as another young black woman who wanted to enter international affairs. But that night, as I listened to her explain why attending Syracuse would not hinder me in the slightest, I had an intuitive feeling that I would end up going to George Washington anyway. Taking calculated risks has granted me many opportunities. I left film school to become a political science student. This was a risk because I started over at a completely new school, in a completely different major- and my parents did not pay for it. I paid tuition by applying for internships every semester and working a part-time job at a restaurant on the weekends, all the while studying late at night. My internship experiences and grades helped me get into every school I applied for. After talking to Ambassador Elam-Thomas, I decided that George Washington was worth it. I sent them the offer from Syracuse and called multiple offices to see if there were any graduate assistantships available. Because of my persistence, GW tripled my fellowship, and I was hired for an assistantship at the Title IX Office. By taking risks without recklessness, I was able to enroll at George Washington and pay reduced tuition. I use this strategy of seeking advice and opportunity throughout my academic and professional careers. I am now an acting communications director at the U.S. Helsinki Commission and a mentee at the mentorship program between George Washington University and the U.S. Institute of Peace. One thing that I have always wanted to improve about myself is my resolve and grit. My academic interest is in democratization and authoritarian politics. This means dealing with controversial and sensitive issues, as power transitions and historical tensions can guide and misguide political development. I need to have a determination that doesn't flounder when someone disagrees with me or threatens violence for the words I speak or the ideas I promote. I have already experienced this at the U.S. Helsinki Commission, where our advocacy for Ukrainian sovereignty has rewarded us with some threatening emails and phone calls. I tend to take back my own words or delete controversial opinions if I get the slightest amount of backlash. This tendency to people please is something that I need to be rid of. One thing that has begun to help me grow out of this is interacting with or learning about people who fight for freedom every day. As someone who grew up in Tennessee and Germany, I have learned about those who sacrificed themselves in the fight against Jim Crow or the Nazi regime. I have not had to fight for my rights as intensely as my ancestors. I have always wondered what is worth living or dying for. What makes someone choose (or risk) death over complacency with an oppressive system? Recently, I met with a young Russian woman, only eighteen years old, who had left Russia to study at George Washington University. Her parents had moved as far as their passports would allow them to escape Putin’s regime but could not join her in the United States. She is now working with the Free Russia Foundation. After listening to her passion for the freedom of her homeland and her love for her family, I realized what I want to do. I want to lose my cowardice and become an authority on democratization and authoritarian politics so I can help fight for freedom and self-determination around the world. First, I will need to develop a grit that combines well with my ability to calculate beneficial risks. I will accomplish this by completing my master’s from George Washington University and a Ph.D. in Political Science or Governance. This scholarship will help me graduate debt free from George Washington so I can dedicate myself fully to becoming an expert who can educate, advocate and inspire all who value and strive for democracy.

"Weren't we supposed to get a dog this year?" My mom asked, the question breaking the sleepy silence of the early morning air. Having barely taken a sip of his first cup of coffee, my dad squinted as if that would help him see the question better. "Huh?" "We were supposed to get a dog this year." She said again, and Dad frowned with the disgruntled confusion of someone learning a startling new fact. "Was we?" My dad's grammatical error, fostered by his exhaustion from both the question and the morning, became an inside joke within the family. Soon enough, the question became a plan, and then an exciting reality. The inside joke became the name bestowed upon our new cockapoo puppy: Wuzwee. With his big, brown eyes, chubby body, and fluffy, buff-colored coat, Wuzwee quickly became the darling of our neighborhood. Children ran to meet him as he strained on his leash to sniff their ankles. Men eager to impress asked if he was an F1 or F2 cockapoo. Women cooed and cried over his cuteness in a way that I imagined the wise men must have wept over Jesus in his manger. And everyone struggled to pronounce his name: "Wesley?" "Wuzpee?" "Weasley?" “Yes,” we said when we grew tired of correcting and explaining. Within a month, everyone in our neighborhood knew Wuzwee. But nobody knew the real Wuzwee. Behind closed doors, Wuzwee was a menace. His weapon of choice was psychological warfare. At night, he would howl and whine until one of us went to sit next to his crate. Once he fell asleep, we would try and leave- only for him to immediately wake up. He stole toilet paper from the bathroom, distributed its wet, scattered pieces across the house, and would run to pick up any abandoned scraps that we tried to clean like a kid who ignores a toy until someone else wants it. And one night, in a protest against the oppressive institution of his puppy crate, Wuzwee climbed on top of it and pooped. He watched us clean it up, with complacent arrogance in his adorable eyes that seemed to enjoy our horror. Despite the poop protests, the wet paper trails, and the late-night concerts, Wuzwee taught me a lot about love and growth. We trained him to ring a bell when he had to go to the bathroom- and although he eventually took advantage of it and began to ring it whenever he just wanted attention, I was still proud of him for learning something new. I started taking him to the local dog park, where he ran around and played with other dogs. When he was tuckered out by the park, he didn’t make as much of a mess at home. Finally, we figured out that once we moved Wuzwee’s crate into my room, he stopped whining. He didn’t hate his crate- he hated being alone. Wuzwee was the last puppy to be picked from his litter. My family believes that Wuzwee hates sleeping alone because of this. By taking care of Wuzwee, I learned that love requires patience. In our family, Wuzwee represents the complexities of our family’s love, from its hardships to its rewards. Even his name is a symbol of my family’s affection for each other. Leaving home for grad school was difficult because I knew Wuzwee would be looking for me. But I also know that when I see him again, we will pick up exactly where we left off- on our next trip to the dog park.

On June 15, 2022, I paid off the last of my undergraduate student loans. I had borrowed approximately $18,000 to finish my last two years at the University of Central Florida. To do this, I worked a part-time job at a local restaurant on the weekends, and throughout the week balanced paid internships with studying for my political science courses. It was a difficult two years that required financial discipline, organization, and a sacrifice of most of my free time. But seeing my loan balance drop to zero was worth it. I celebrated for about five minutes before reality gut-punched me. My plate was now free of the UCF debt. Now the next helping of bills would soon be on the way. I was determined to go to grad school that fall, to the George Washington University- which is infamously known for being one of the best schools for international affairs, and of the most expensive schools in the nation. Working to pay off my student loan debt in Florida, where I lived with my parents and did not have to worry about rent, utilities, or food, was a relatively easy task. I knew the financial risk I was taking by going to George Washington, but I believed the reputation, resources, and location was worth the price. Throughout those last two years at UCF, I had worked hard to graduate with honors so I could apply for scholarships. My strategy was to eliminate as much potential debt as possible by making myself the best candidate for all scholarships that I qualified for. This was a difficult task, as applying for scholarships can be exhaustive and disappointing. Spending hours on essays, transcripts, and letters is a part-time job in itself. In Spring 2022,I applied for about 75 scholarships. But the goal was always to minimize any amount that I would have to borrow and pay off in the future, so I kept going. What made avoiding student debt even more difficult was that initially, George Washington only offered me a fellowship of about $3,000 a semester. I kept contact with the Admissions Office, asking for all scholarships and fellowships available. I called about ten institutes on campus to ask about paid graduate and research assistantships, and luckily found one spot open in the Title IX Office. This added about $5,000 a semester to my financial aid. I sent Admissions the offers of other grad schools that had accepted me and granted generous financial aid packages. Finally, GW tripled my original fellowship. This is how I developed my strategy towards avoiding student debt. Two months before the new semester, I update my resume, hunt for paid internships and scholarships, and apply for anything that I am even marginally eligible for. I am currently working at the U.S. Helsinki Commission, where I save the money that does not go to my rent in a high-yield savings account for next semester's tuition. It is also important that I save money and minimize debt, because I would like to pursue a Ph.D in political science or history. Presently, the cost of attendance (minus my fellowship) is $12,021 a semester - and I still have to pay rent. Because of my work, I have thankfully not had to borrow anything this semester. By seeking scholarships, working on and off-campus, and staying focused on my goal of becoming an expert in democratization, graduating from George Washington will open up more doors in government or non-profit work that will help eliminate or forgive any money that I may have to borrow.

It is 2030, and I have just published my third book- already said to be my best. It is literary fiction founded in reality, an account of dragged-out democratization in a dwindling authoritarian regime. It is a story that both examines the relationship of a revolutionary individual within that society, and that of an unstable leader with the nation they claim to be one with. The book cryptically asks, who, or what, truly represents the soul of a country, the will of the people? The book is met with universal acclaim. The marriage of cinematic descriptions with the raw, sometimes uncomfortable internal thoughts of its characters are granted massive applause. But for me, there is not much time to celebrate, outside of a quick glass of gifted champagne from my publisher. There is still work to be done. I am a policy advisor who specializes in strategies of political development, particularly democratization in nations stumbling free from autocratic grips. I work especially with democracy activists in these regions, listening to their stories, arranging congressional hearings where the American people can hear them. I propose strategies of engagement with non-democratic nations to Congress and non-profit organizations seeking to free political prisoners. I develop anti-war and anti-genocide initiatives by analyzing each country and its people and learning all I can about the historical contexts that make them who they are. I give commentary on CNN and ABC News from my office, informing the people of the world that the work being done is all in favor of ensuring peace and stabilization. My office is filled with books, those that I have written and those that I love to read. My tall, handsome husband is an astronaut- (this is the life of my dreams after all!). He likes to say that he will save the Moon while I save the Earth. Our late-night calls, across the vast expanse of space, keep us close until he returns back from orbit to me. We have a St. Bernard named Moose, and an adopted shelter puppy named Rocko. In a few years, we will have our first son. But my favorite part of my dream life is that I get to interact with incredible people every day. I know that the decisions I make will have an effect on a country, a people, a movement. The research that I complete informs policy that changes lives. The responsibility is not forgotten or exploited. The individuals that I get to collaborate with are each fascinating in their own way. I have always believed that humanity is the universe's lens unto itself. Within ourselves are vast possibilities and potential, clashing beliefs, swirling complexities, cosmic violence and beautiful creation. The books I write are all written to capture the magnificent, infinite universes living together on this lonely planet. My dream is that the people who read my books are able to see themselves in characters who look nothing like them, and the people I help in real life are able to gain permanent agency in deciding their own destinies. This dream life is something I plan to accomplish by attaining my Master's in International Affairs at the George Washington University and working towards a Ph.D in History afterward.

I have always wanted to write books. As a child I rewrote bedtime stories when I didn't like their endings. As I got older, I became more original. I published short stories and articles, and even studied to become a screenwriter in college. When I transferred to study political science during my junior year, it was not due to a loss of interest in storytelling. Alongside my lifelong passion for writing was an interest in history and its fascinating complexity. During my third year of undergraduate studies, I finally decided to unite the two sides instead of isolating them from each other. Now, as a graduate student of international relations, I am finding that stories are essential to global politics. Ukrainian bravery is inspiring millions across the globe to rally behind President Zelenskyy and his people. Mahsa Amini's brutal murder has inspired Iranian women to protest against their oppressive dictator. And every day, we hear stories among ourselves, on the subway, in the elevator, even in the bathroom, of someone explaining why they were motivated to get up that morning. Stories push us to work for a common goal. As an African American woman, my family's story is a constant reminder to me that history does not end at liberation, and peace is not guaranteed by reconciliation. By working to recognize untold stories and uplift our common humanity, I hope to become an effective diplomat and author. My academic interests are primarily focused on non-democratic nations and their relationships with the democracy-led order in international affairs. I want to learn more about their inner workings, the effect of such governments on their people, and the decision-making processes concentrated between a few, or one leader. I am also planning to study the development of such non-democratic nations, as well as causes and motives of war, genocide and violence from a non-democratic perspective. Regionally, my interest is Russia. The George Washington University offers courses that unite my regional and thematic interests, such as Russia & International Security, History, Violence & Memory in East Asia, and Political Development. I hope that by studying non-democratic nations I will be able to become an expert in developing strategies towards engaging with them and assist any transitions to democracy if so desired by their people. Professionally, I would like to become an author who specializes in writing books that analyze international relations from an individual level, from the impact of the world or a government on one person to the inverse effect of one person on their government or the world.

When I first went to university, I was determined to become a world-famous screenwriter. I wanted to tell stories about awkward black girls, like me, in new and magical ways. I enrolled at my top-choice school, the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, and started working on my dream. For two years, my fellow film students admired and praised my work. I really thought that I was in the right place. Then COVID happened. My family suggested I move back home. My father, a pilot for FedEx, was stationed in Hong Kong. I moved to Hong Kong, expecting to only be there until the end of the summer. I never went back to North Carolina. I ended up in Hong Kong for a year, and that year changed my life. In Hong Kong, I was in an environment that challenged everything I believed about myself. I was attending school online, twelve hours ahead of North Carolina. I found it harder to connect with my friends, and not because of the time difference. I had been so sure of myself and my talent that I had become arrogant, and that took a toll on my friendships. And finally, with all the time I had to read books and watch movies, I realized that I was not actually as talented as I thought I was. The year of isolation in Hong Kong exposed me to myself. But that was not the only thing that challenged me. My parents were considering divorce, my grandfather died too far away for us to be with him in his last days, my sister ran away from home after my mother refused to accept her sexuality, and I felt a duty to protect my youngest sister from the chaos happening at home. I had never been more aware of how fragile my family was, and by extension, how fragile I was. I was starting to realize that storytelling was in some ways a form of escape. The only thing that I thought I had going for myself were the stories in my head, the stories that all starred alternate versions of me with powers and personalities that alleviated the anxieties I had in the real world. When I was able, I spent a lot of time alone, away from the chaos of home, sitting by the South China Sea or walking through the glassy skyscrapers of the city. I loved the fascinating history of Hong Kong, seeing the Buddha statues and memorials of World War II, witnessing the light shows in the evening, and watching the smoke rise over the mountains in the morning. I had forgotten how much I loved history. This was ironic because so many of my stories were inspired by the complexity of history. It all clicked for me then, that film school was not where I needed to be. A difficult but necessary decision was made to transfer and major in political science. I loved learning about the causes of war and political psychology, and how history has shaped the world we live in today. I graduated with honors and am preparing to start graduate studies in international affairs at George Washington University. I still write stories, but I have learned that writing is not all that I am or should be. Hong Kong humbled me and taught me that fame would not heal my insecurities- it would just put them in the spotlight. Most importantly, my year in Hong Kong showed me that I shouldn’t try to be the next “anything” because I am the first Desiree Winns.

When I was eight years old, I was determined to become President of the United States. At our house in Tennessee, I had a placemat with every U.S. President, 43 white men, one Barack Obama, and an empty spot where the next Commander in Chief would be. Even though I had never seen a black woman on that placemat, I immediately assumed that I would just have to be the first. I was determined to fill that space, and even had my own slogan: You Can't Lose with Desiree Winns. Although I no longer have presidential aspirations, I still have an ambition to make a difference in the world. As a kid, I used to think making a difference -meant historical, Nobel Prize-worthy accomplishments like leading a country, or singlehandedly ending world hunger. These are not dreams to be ashamed of, but they do reflect my previous assumptions that the only important actions were the biggest ones. My parents, both Air Force veterans, had always stressed the importance of education to me from a very young age. They encouraged me to follow my interests to the highest degree- literally. Even as a child, I greatly enjoyed learning about politics, history, and the impact of both on the world we live in. I have also always been a storyteller. I used to write my own books with crayons, printer paper, and a stapler. These passions of mine stuck with me throughout my childhood and teenage years, and I won several awards for my writing. When my family moved to Germany in 2014, my enthusiasm for the complexity of history increased. As I grew up in Germany, I met other kids from all over the world, became the official German translator for my family, and confronted my identity as an African-American girl living in Europe. I visited concentration camps and learned about the long-lasting effects of the Second World War from London to Moscow. I heard the stories of my friends whose families had been impacted by wars, both past and present. Most importantly, I learned that African-Americans were not the only people who had endured adversity and hardship. These experiences pushed me to study filmmaking and political science in college. I believe that keeping stories alive is the key to exposing common ground between nations. Stories can be shared in various mediums- from film to literature to public speaking engagements, it is essential to ensure that these stories are consistently given breath and light. Now, as a graduate student of international affairs at the George Washington University, I am determined to make a difference to the individuals of the world. By listening to a refugee's story or sharing the needs of an isolated country. By acting as a bridge between the past and present and the privileged and the powerless. I plan to do this by becoming a diplomat, an ambassador, and an author. I hope to become a unique inspiration to other young black girls with big ambitions and show them that they can make the biggest differences in the smallest ways.

As a kid, I loved the Princess and the Frog. But the character of Princess Tiana means more to me now as a graduate student. Like Tiana, I am a hard worker with a dream. I juggled a part-time job, an internship and summer classes to get into my top choice for graduate school. I believe that "if you work real hard each and every day, good things are sure to come your way." But Tiana and I are similarly flawed, and for that I appreciate her even more. Tiana knew what she wanted to be and worked hard to fulfill that dream- forgoing friendships, free time, and sleep to pay for her restaurant. When I first entered university, I was determined to become a screenwriter. I devoured everything about making films. I believed that I would be a failure if I was unable to accomplish that dream. But, as Mama Odie said, I was truly blind to what I needed. I needed to understand that writing was not all I was. I needed to appreciate my lifelong passion for politics and history. Finally, I needed to understand that I was more than my accomplishments. What I most love about the Princess and the Frog is that the film never suggests Tiana is wrong for having a dream. It is her complete focus on her dream, without room for friends, love, or personal well-being, that isolates and inhibits her. This is important because dreams may not always come true. During my intense ambition to become a screenwriter, my friendships suffered, and I became arrogant. I know now that even if I did become that famous screenwriter, I would be alone at the top. Now, I have a new dream. As a student of international affairs, I would love to become a U.S. Ambassador. But this time, I will not let my dream distract me from essential personal experiences or destroy me if I am unable to achieve it. In the end, Tiana gets her prince and her restaurant. Although I am just starting my master's program, and have yet to find a prince, I believe I am "Almost There". I am becoming a better friend, sister, and daughter. I am closer than ever to having what I need and reaching what I want. Thanks to Tiana, I have a great role model to remind me that I can achieve both.

The last egg I ever ate was nothing special, but it changed everything. It was another morning in Florida, and I had woken up before my family to have the kitchen all to myself. There was a recipe I had learned in Hong Kong- ramen noodles, paprika, chives, and of course, an egg sauce mixed with sriracha. I made it the same way, by cooking the noodles first, but keeping them just a little crunchy so the egg sauce would cook them in the pan. Then I made the egg sauce, composed of one egg, salt, pepper, paprika, chives, and sriracha. I cooked the sauce and noodles together, made some coffee, and took a seat to enjoy the breakfast that I had enjoyed a hundred times before. But this time, when I ate the noodles coated in the spicy egg sauce, something felt wrong. As I continued eating, I noticed a nausea overwhelming my senses, and felt as if I was about to vomit. Finally, I stopped eating, and felt an unease overcome me as my stomach protested madly against the breakfast it no longer wanted. At first, I thought it was a bad egg. But when I tried the recipe again a few days later, I felt the same way- dizzy and nauseous, with an urge to throw up. I had eaten eggs my whole life without issue, and my sudden intolerance had come out of nowhere. What was most disappointing were all the foods that were no longer available to me. The fried eggs I had just learned how to make, addictively sugary grocery store cakes, and, most devastatingly, the Hong Kong breakfast ramen, were distant and untouchable memories now. I am not unused to having certain foods be off-limits. I am also lactose intolerant, however, like most lactose intolerant people, I take my condition to be more of a suggestion and just suffer the consequences later. But my new egg intolerance could not be ignored, as it made me immediately sick. After doing some research, I learned that egg intolerances can occur as a result of the immune system identifying egg proteins as harmful. This new reaction could be attributed to anything from genes to intestinal damage, to strenuous exercise. I am still not sure why exactly the intolerance happened at the age of 21 (in fact, an intolerance can arise at any age), but it has certainly made me more conscious of what I put in my body. My new egg intolerance has had an interesting effect on my career aspirations. As an international relations student at the George Washington University, I am exposed to a number of various cultures and cuisines. Navigating the many foods that I might encounter as an aspiring diplomat has required me to examine their contents without appearing disrespectful. I could not enjoy shakshuka in Libya or raw egg rice in Japan, no matter how passionately it was offered or how much I would like to. Learning a new etiquette around food has been both enlightening and humbling for me, especially as someone who has eagerly tried squid ink rice in Spain and jellyfish salad in Germany. The "Forbidden Foods" scholarship will help pay my tuition as a graduate student at George Washington, where I will learn more about essential diplomatic behavior and practice in such situations. Now more than ever, I have to be mindful of what goes into my mouth and what comes out of it. I believe that although adjusting to my intolerance has not been "over easy", it will ultimately make me a better person and diplomat.

All I really want to be is a diplomat who write books. I want to represent America to world leaders and everyday people alike, and learn their stories and opinions in return. I hope that during my lifetime I will be known as a successful ambassador and author so I can inspire other young black girls.