I want a future that isn’t shaped by a panfleto (pamphlet). At first sight, this phrase holds a simple, universal wish: the desire for safety and stability. But beneath lies a deeper truth, growth becomes a threat in places where control matters more than opportunity. Acknowledging this has helped me recognize what I have, especially the support I need to keep moving toward my goals. But what is a panfleto anyway? Before Ecuador, I didn’t know either. Matter of fact, I didn’t even speak Spanish yet. My immigrant parents’ decision to return to their native country had brought plenty of new challenges for us, and over the course of 6 years I overcame language barriers to stay strong in my academic journey, while my dad worked tirelessly through multiple attempts to build a business. However, the cracks would start to show, as gang violence escalated from casual crimes to direct threats against families. Earn enough to be noticed, and a panfleto would arrive, coolly informing you what you now owed the cartel. Furthermore, beyond the violence, Ecuador’s struggling job market discouraged the dream to pursue higher education, with no rewarding job opportunities afterward. With all that said, my family didn’t wait around for the panfleto. We took action, a plan to give ourselves a chance for a different future. My younger sister and I moved back to the United States, while my parents stayed in Ecuador and supported us financially. Most of my extended family didn’t agree, criticizing and gossiping about our choices. ¿Cómo les van a mandar tan pequeñas? ¡Pobrecitas! Their small expectations would only incentivize me, as I cooked our meals, memorized laundry cycles, handled bills, because I wanted my journey to uplift my family, and prove that we could be more than the small expectations the system had pressed in our minds. Even through unexpected challenges, like helping take care of our disabled legal guardian, varying from groceries to late-night hospital trips. I didn’t let these responsibilities steer me off course, rather they helped me grow into someone self-reliant. And that same mindset shaped my approach to the American education system. Walking into Madison for the first time, I was completely overwhelmed. AP classes, more than 50 clubs, career guidance, the school’s academic structure was far more complex than what I’d known in Ecuador. I was eager and determined to learn and explore it all. Rebuilding my academic footing at Madison wasn’t without confusion and setbacks, but it’s what has led me to my proudest achievement thus far, becoming a QuestBridge finalist. It greatly supported my nightmarish college process, and was a celebration of my transformative journey, from someone expected to shrink against corruption and violence to someone stepping towards an actual professional career. The panfleto’s threat continues to exist, but so do I, in spite of it. I’ve built a life supported by mentors and opportunities that have pushed me to grow into a more resilient, introspective person. I deserve this award because my story isn’t about escaping my circumstances, it’s about refusing to let them dictate the limits of my future, and I’ve used my perseverance as a direction towards meaningful impact.

Two years ago, my family made a decision that would forever change the course of my life. Two years ago, we took a leap of faith. Two years ago, my sister and I returned home and left it at the same time. Previously, for 6 years my family lived together in Ecuador, a choice my immigrant parents made to return to their homeland from the U.S. But after years of trying to build a stable life, harsh times had fallen in the region we lived. Gang wars brought death and extortion, threatening our safety and income. My dreams of pursuing higher education had no future, not in a country where career ambition had little support and rewarded job scarcity in return. God had given me the desire to learn, to grow and build something meaningful with my life. We just had to find a way. So we made a plan to send me and my younger sister back to the U.S, to continue our education. I was old enough to understand why this was the best option for us, but was still terrified at the thought of leaving my parents. However, I strongly believe that God has a plan for me, and that His plan calls for my efforts. I was determined to not fail, to handle anything this change would throw at me. I learned how to cook "arroz moro" for my sister, how to correctly clean the bathroom, how to buy groceries and ignore the rising prices. I memorized the laundry cycles, my bus route for school, the dates for when bills were due. And on good days, I felt proud for keeping up and being independent. But then there were other days, days where I was exhausted, days where every thought spun into another worry, days where my mind was crammed with these frantic voices, telling me that I was failing, that I was incapable and weak. In these moments, I leaned onto God more than anything. But I felt like a disgrace, because He had given me this opportunity to lead a better life, and I wasn’t strong enough to live up to it. This pain and guilt ran through me, until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. In my prayers during Sunday mass, I asked Him, Why? Then, His voice rose above the voices, above the consuming clutter in my mind. He reminded me that He hadn’t led me here to abandon me halfway. He was guiding me through every challenge, and I needed to rely on Him for strength, because I was never alone. With this, I felt my heartbeat steady, as I took deep slow breaths, each one with a new sense of clarity. My Lord has given me this chance to study, but He has also given me the chance to grow beyond my fears and become someone who will share His love with the community. This year, my sister and I celebrated 2 years since that life-changing decision. There are still hard days, but my faith steadies me. I have the courage to keep going, because God walks alongside me everyday. And He will, to the very end of the age.