For almost a decade, I have devoted myself to basketball. I always strived to be the best teammate, not the best player. To me, this meant making the extra pass, cutting off the baseline, stopping the drives, and doing the dirty work. It was not about having the most points or the most blocks, or being shrouded in glory and cheers. Yet, when our leading scorer graduated in 2023, during my junior year, I knew that I needed to learn to take my shot. For the past two years, I have had the honor of being a Varsity team captain. Maintaining an environment of support and commitment, I urged my teammates to give not only 100% for the team but also for themselves. Regret is not something that plagues my mind, but reflecting on the past three years has made me realize I could have done so much more for both myself and the team. This year, I aim to be more selfish. Although in an environment where teamwork and patience are vital, I recognize that my team needs an aggressive scorer. The loss of our leading scorer has dropped our point average by 15. Without a shooter, my team will fail to surpass our previous third-round CIF record and will fail to protect our school’s first Varsity Girls Basketball league title from 2022. The experience of being a dedicated student-athlete and leader has allowed me to translate many qualities of perseverance into my academic life. Basketball has encouraged me to prioritize my time and goals and has cultivated my competitive will. With this scholarship, I can pursue an education in the arts. With my degree, I aspire to become an animator and, hopefully, share my stories through artistic expression. The animation industry is one immersed in teamwork. I believe the learning experience as a team captain will help me thrive in the industry. With your support, I am eager to continue my path of personal and academic growth

Throughout much of my schooling career, topics surrounding anything LGBTQ+ have been taboo, despite how liberal and progressive California and my city present. Elementary school has been the least troublesome time of my life. Not yet aware of anything “gay,” I was vaguely conscious of my differences. However, the eerie feeling of being “different” never bothered me; I was always accepted and remained confident in who I was and what I believed in. Dubbed the “tomboy”, I had no problem with this label. It was fitting: boy’s clothes and athleticism made you a boy. No one in elementary school called me a tomboy hatefully. I was friends with everyone, playing with the boys and talking with the girls. A culture of learning, friendship, and recess, elementary school was a gay (happy) time. By middle school, however, puberty had hit me full force. Now immersed in a culture full of hormones, crushes, and changing bodies, I was overwhelmed by the transformations of myself and those around me. Seventh grade was the first time I would be introduced to LGBTQ+ topics. The phrase “that’s gay” was tossed about so often the hateful intent was often overlooked. Sex ed was the first time anything LGBTQ+ was mentioned in the classroom by a teacher. It was also the last until almost 3 years later. Briefly mentioning umbrella terms such as Bisexual and Trans, the issues of safe sex, consent, mental and physical health for the community were not discussed. In the trimester long class, only a day was spent for LGBTQ+. Many students were not even present for the fleeting discussion. Parents held a small protest against teaching such subjects at school and kept their children at home. Eighth grade was the year I cut my waist-long hair off. This decision was easy for me to make, although it did not seem so easy for my barber, who told me I wouldn’t be a pretty girl with short hair. My education and friends were also cut off this year as a result of covid. Freshmen year of high school went by mostly untouched by anything queer. Heath my second semester was the first time LGBTQ+ topics were touched upon in 2 years. Yet it was simply a refresher of the umbrella terms and nothing new. Sophomore year was my first real year of high school after covid. It was also the first time I really learned what “gay” was. Gay was bad. I was never openly queer, or “out”, and kept mostly to myself. But I was still subject to subtle bullying and ignorance. Dressing the same way since elementary school, many people believed I was a boy at first glance. However a slightly closer look would reveal a chest, high voice, and a girl’s name. Dubbed the “fag,” I had many problems with this label. Yet to most it was fitting: boy’s hair and a member of the girls basketball team, I was the stereotypical, butch lesbian. Ironically enough, it is wrong to assume I am lesbian: I am queer, there is no denying, but it’s not just girls who are pretty. Since sophomore year, I have taken a more careless approach to my outward appearance and social status. Possibly a newfound defense mechanism, this carefree attitude has made me more independent and confident in my values. The labels and comments from others no longer bother me. I feel free to look how I look, love who I love, and do what I want. I am free to be my taboo-self.

My future self is comfortable with who they are, physically, mentally, and in any other way; looking the way I want to look and creating the things I want to create, living only for myself but with those I love and those that love me.

The technology that inspires me the most is 3D printing. 3D printing, otherwise known as additive manufacturing, is the process of printing three-dimensional objects by layering materials such as plastic, powder, resin, metal and carbon fibers. These prints are based on digital models enabling customization and creativity. The expansive and adaptable characteristics of 3D printing is highly appealing to many aspects of society; ranging from prosthetics, to shoes and even houses, consumer goods can be readily available and specified for each person. Specifications for medical, mental and physical comfort ensures the well-being of each individual. Having basic consumer goods printed also promotes local production. Similar to how home-grown crops reduce reliance on global supply chains, affordable 3D printing could provide the resources needed to minimize transportation costs and carbon emissions. Additionally, 3D printing can contribute to sustainable practices that mainstream production practices cannot achieve. Although the most common material used in 3D printing is plastic, only the necessary amount of material is used, minimizing waste and the transferring of these excess plastics into the environment. The on-demand production also minimizes excess inventory. 3D printing has even been explored as a potential method of construction. Revolutionizing modern urbanization, 3D printing is a cheaper and quicker alternative to traditional housing. Well printed houses are estimated to last over a decade, preventing common defects such as cracking walls and has higher water permeability. This, along with the 30% quicker construction time rate, makes 3D printing the more effective method when compared to traditional construction. 3D printing also inspires creativity and innovation. It’s vast customization empowers individuals and gives them the opportunity to create something that truly fits them. Whether it be art, sculptures, clothes, or houses, the tangibility of 3D printing encourages entrepreneurship and innovation. Personally, tangibility is what interests me most about 3D printing. To make the images in my head into physical objects is intriguing and exiting. It would allow me to showcase my thoughts, ideas and creativity to the world. It might even allow me to help those around me, turning my solutions into reality.