My passion for public service was born out of a moment that forever altered the way I saw the world—and my place in it. One night during college, my friends and I were sitting in a car outside my apartment when a white truck screeched to a stop in front of us. A man leaned out of his window and began hurling racial slurs and violent threats. Then, he reached for a gun. In that split second, fear overtook us. We fled. But what followed was even more devastating: the sense of helplessness that comes when no one can—or will—protect you. Because it was late at night and we did not have a license plate, or video evidence, the authorities said there was nothing they could do. We were left shaken, vulnerable, and unheard. That experience did not just traumatize me—it transformed me. It revealed how easy it is to feel defenseless in a system that often requires proof over pain, and how many people walk through life without anyone to fight for them. It was at that moment I realized I wanted to become someone’s advocate when the world tells them they do not have one. In the months that followed, I turned to what I knew I could control—my voice. I founded Round Table Talks, a social justice-based organization that gave students a safe space to process, reflect, and speak truth to power. We facilitated discussions, launched a podcast, and explored the realities of injustice on and off campus. It was my way of taking back the narrative—of creating something meaningful out of something that nearly broke me. Through that work, I saw the power of storytelling and truth-telling, and how healing it is to be seen, heard, and believed. That desire to uplift others and confront injustice is what led me to law school—and more specifically, to criminal defense. Currently, as a 2L student bard card extern with the Dallas County Public Defender’s Office, I have had the honor of representing clients in bond hearings, plea hearings, and speedy trial hearings. I recently even helped a client get her case completely dismissed. Watching her walk out of court—free, emotional, and hopeful—reminded me why I chose this path. Every client I meet has a story. Sometimes they have been silenced, overlooked, or dismissed. My role is to remind them they still matter—and to prove it through fierce, compassionate advocacy. This work is not just what I do. It is who I am. I will keep showing up in courtrooms, in communities, and in every space where justice feels out of reach. I will continue learning from every client, every attorney, and every judge I meet. And above all, I will never forget that night when I felt voiceless—because it is what fuels me to be someone else’s voice today.

In the summer of 2022, I was selected to be the director of a program in the Mays Business School called Mays Transformational Leadership Academy. I was chosen for this position based on my experience with student development regarding diversity and inclusion and due to my displayed dedication with the program, as I was previously a small group leader and assistant director. To my surprise, my tenacity was severely tested during this opportunity. One of my tasks as the director was to select an assistant director. After an intense interviewing process, I chose a male and female assistant director. Throughout the entire time from spending months preparing for the program to the actual week of the program, I continuously clashed about our roles and responsibilities with the male assistant director. My role was to lead, create, and be responsible for every small group leader, assistant director, and for the overall program. Yet, I felt that my work and leadership was being demeaned by this particular male student. While there were several things that occurred, one that really bothered and offended me was when we were getting ready to load the students on the bus for an event during the week of the program. I went to talk to the bus driver and he refused to open the bus door for me to talk to him, as he did not know that I was the director and mistook me to be a “student” even though I had a badge on that said my position, and I was wearing professional clothing. Confused about what was going on, the male assistant director proceeded to see what was happening and instead of helping me he decided to take over and refer to himself as the “director” to the bus driver. While this may seem like a trivial ordeal, it made me feel small and undeserving of the role I was in. I realized at that moment that my boundaries had been overstepped too many times and decided it was time to address the situation. As a result, I asked the assistant director if we could sit down and professionally talk through our concerns. I expressed to him exactly how I felt and what my role was within the program. Ultimately, we both ended up coming to a common ground and understanding our responsibilities so that we could successfully finish the rest of the program. Overall, this experience taught me the importance of advocating for myself and being confident in the educated woman that I am. I came to the realization that I was qualified for the position and that is why it was given to me in the first place. I now know that if something is not right or is bothering me, I must speak up not only for myself, but for all women that may come after me. Being the first woman director to lead this program definitely ruffled some feathers, but I am so grateful that I had the opportunity to be a part of something much greater than myself.