Growing up in foster care, I know what it’s like to feel forgotten, unwanted, and powerless.This is the same non profit gave me and my siblings our own personalized duffle bags with our names, not only was it nice but it was refreshing to know we we mattered to somebody. For a long time, I carried those feelings with me, unsure of how to move forward. I thought my past would always define me. But when I got involved in nonprofit work, everything changed. Helping others who have been through similar struggles has not only allowed me to give back, but it has also helped me heal. One of the biggest ways I plan to make a positive impact is by continuing to serve foster children and those in need. Through my work with nonprofits, I’ve seen how something as small as a duffle bag filled with essentials can make a difference in a child’s life. Many kids enter foster care with nothing but the clothes on their backs. I know what it feels like to have your world turned upside down, to feel like you don’t belong anywhere. Being able to provide comfort and support to those kids has made me realize that I have a purpose—one that goes beyond just my own healing. I also plan to make an impact through a career in law enforcement. The police officers who removed my siblings and me from our dangerous situation didn’t just do their jobs—they saved us. Without them, I don’t know where we would be today. I want to be that kind of officer, someone who steps in when kids need protection, guidance, and hope. I want to make sure no child feels as alone and helpless as I once did. My experience in nonprofit work has taught me the power of kindness. I’ve seen firsthand how small acts of generosity can mean everything to someone in need. Whether it’s providing basic necessities, offering support, or just reminding someone they aren’t alone, I’ve learned that even the smallest actions can change lives. Nonprofit work has also helped me heal. For years, I carried anger, confusion, and sadness about my past. But when I started helping others, I saw my struggles in a new way. Instead of feeling like a victim of my circumstances, I began to feel like a survivor—someone who could use their story to inspire change. Instead of focusing on what I lost, I started focusing on what I could give. I know I can’t change the entire world, but I can make a difference in the lives of the people around me. Whether it’s through law enforcement, nonprofit work, or just being a person someone can count on, I want to help those who feel forgotten. I want to turn my pain into something positive and show others that no matter what they’ve been through, they can overcome it. My story isn’t just about struggle—it’s about resilience, growth, and the determination to make a difference. Helping others has helped me heal, and I plan to keep paying that forward for the rest of my life.

Music has always been my escape, especially during the hardest times in my life. Billie Eilish’s songs hit different because they put into words emotions I’ve struggled with. Growing up in foster care wasn’t easy, and a lot of her music reminds me of what I went through—the pain, the anger, and eventually, the healing. Three songs that mean the most to me are “Birds of a Feather,” “The Greatest,” and “Party Favor.” Each of these songs connects to my journey in a way that feels personal. "Birds of a Feather" This song makes me think about my adoptive parents and how, for the first time, I felt like I had a real home. Growing up, I moved from place to place, never feeling like I truly belonged anywhere. When I finally got adopted, everything changed. I finally had people who wanted me, not because they had to, but because they loved me. The line “Birds of a feather, we should stick together” reminds me of my family and how, after everything, I finally found people who weren’t going to leave. This song is about loyalty and unconditional love, something I didn’t always have but finally found. The song " The Greatest" connects to me because foster care made me feel invisible, like I was just another kid in the system, bouncing from home to home, never really belonging anywhere. The lyrics “I will say the words / If you want me to / But I don’t wanna say it if it’s not true” reminds me of how I used to act in foster homes. I wanted to fit in so badly, so I’d try to be whoever I thought they wanted me to be. But inside, I felt lost. This song reminds me of that feeling—of trying so hard to be seen but feeling like no one is really looking. It also reminds me that I’m not just some forgotten kid. My life matters, and I don’t have to change who I am to be worth something. The song "Party Favor" is about walking away from something that hurt you, and that’s exactly what I had to do when I finally let go of my biological parents. I spent so much time hoping they’d come back, that they’d get better, but I finally realized that I couldn’t keep waiting. “I’m not your party favor” makes me think of how I used to feel—like I only mattered when it was convenient for them. Eventually, I had to accept that they weren’t the people I needed them to be. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but also one of the most freeing. Billie Eilish’s music helps me process everything I’ve been through. Her lyrics put my emotions into words in a way that makes me feel understood. Her songs remind me of the pain, but also of how far I’ve come. I’ve learned to let go of what I can’t change, to accept my past without letting it define me, and to move forward with hope. Her music is a reminder that I’m not alone in what I’ve felt—and that I am stronger than what I’ve been through.

I grew up in a world of instability. My biological parents—one Native American, the other Sub-Saharan African—were never married, and my early years were full of uncertainty. Some nights, I was left alone. Other nights, my parents were drinking or fighting, and sometimes the police showed up. There were good moments—like when my dad took me to the park—but they never lasted. Most of the time, I felt like I was always waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Then, everything changed. I was at daycare, expecting my dad to pick me up, but instead, a woman I had never seen before was there. She smiled and told us to get in her car. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I got in. As we drove away, I looked out the window, crying, realizing I was leaving behind everything I had ever known. My siblings and I were placed in a foster group home. At first, we stayed together, and I kept telling myself our parents would come back. But as time passed and their visits stopped, I realized the truth—they weren’t coming back. That was the last time I ever saw them. Foster care wasn’t easy. We moved from home to home, and while some were okay, others were horrible. In one, we were punished for the smallest mistakes. In another, we were treated like prisoners—searched after school, locked in our rooms, and even forced to sleep outside. I felt invisible and unwanted, like I didn’t belong anywhere. But then, things changed again. My younger siblings and I ended up with two amazing foster parents. For the first time, I felt safe. They didn’t just take care of us—they made us feel like part of a family. They encouraged me in school, taught me the value of hard work, and gave me love when I needed it the most. That experience changed how I see the world. I used to think family was just the people you were born to, but my foster parents showed me that family is about the people who support you and love you no matter what. They took in kids who had nowhere else to go and gave them a home. Seeing that made me realize how important it is to help people, especially kids who feel alone and don’t have anyone looking out for them. That’s why I want to become a police officer. The officers who helped remove my siblings and me from our situation gave us a second chance. They didn’t just do their jobs—they saved us. I want to be that kind of officer, someone who steps in when kids need protection the most, someone they can trust. Education is my next step. It will give me the tools and training to serve my community and make sure no child has to go through what I did. Becoming a police officer isn’t just a job to me—it’s my way of giving back and making sure no kid feels as lost or afraid as I once did.

Growing up, my life was unstable. My biological parents—one Native American, the other Sub-Saharan African—were never married, and my early years were full of uncertainty. Some nights, I was left alone. Other nights, my parents were drinking or fighting, and sometimes the police showed up. There were good moments—like when my dad took me to the park—but they never lasted. Most of the time, I felt like I was always waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Then, one day, everything changed. I was at daycare, expecting my dad to pick me up, but instead, a woman I didn’t know was waiting. She smiled and told us to get in her car. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I got in. As we drove away, I stared out the window, crying, realizing I was leaving behind everything I had ever known. My siblings and I were placed in a foster home. At first, we stayed together, and I kept telling myself our parents would come back. But as time passed and their visits stopped, I realized the truth—they weren’t coming back. That was the last time I ever saw them. Foster care was tough. We moved from home to home, and while some places were okay, others were terrible. In one, we got punished for the smallest mistakes. In another, we were treated like prisoners—searched after school, locked in our rooms, and even forced to sleep outside sometimes. I felt invisible and unwanted, like I didn’t belong anywhere. But then, everything changed again. I was adopted into a loving family where, for the first time, I felt safe and cared for. My past didn’t disappear, but I finally had a future. The scars from my childhood didn’t fade, but they shaped me into who I am today—resilient, determined, and compassionate. Because of what I’ve been through, I want to become a police officer to help kids in and out of the foster care system. The officers who helped remove my siblings and me from the dangerous situation we were born into gave us a second chance. Without them, I don’t know where we’d be today. They didn’t just do their jobs—they saved us. That moment made a lasting impact on me, and I want to be that kind of officer for kids going through what I once did. Being a police officer isn’t just about enforcing the law—it’s about protecting people, especially those who can’t protect themselves. I want to be the person a scared child can trust, the one who listens when no one else will, and the one who makes sure they don’t feel alone. Whether it’s helping a child in a bad home, guiding a teen onto a better path, or simply being a positive presence in my community, I want to make a difference. Education is my next step. It will give me the training to serve my community and make sure no child has to go through what I did. Becoming a police officer isn’t just a career for me—it’s my way of giving back and making sure no child feels as lost or afraid as I once did.

I was born into a world of instability. My biological parents—one Native American, the other Sub-Saharan African—were never married, and my early years were filled with uncertainty. Some nights, I was left alone. Other nights, my parents were drinking or fighting, and sometimes the police showed up. There were good moments—like when my dad took me to the park—but they never lasted. Most of the time, my life felt chaotic, like I was always waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Then, one day, everything changed. I was at daycare, expecting my dad to pick me up, but instead, a woman I had never seen before was waiting. She smiled and told us to get in her car. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I got in. As we drove away, I stared out the window, crying, realizing I was leaving behind everything I had ever known. My siblings and I were placed in a foster group home. At first, we stayed together, and I kept telling myself our parents would come back. But as time passed and their visits stopped, I realized the truth—they weren’t coming back. That was the last time I ever saw them. Foster care was tough. We moved from home to home, and while some places were okay, others were awful. In one, every little mistake meant punishment. In another, we were treated like prisoners—searched after school, locked in our rooms, and forced to sleep outside as punishment. I felt invisible and unwanted like I didn’t belong anywhere. But then, everything changed again. I was adopted into a loving family where, for the first time, I felt safe and cared for. My past didn’t disappear, but I finally had a future. The scars from my childhood didn’t fade, but they shaped me into the person I am today—resilient, determined, and compassionate. Because of what I’ve been through, I want to dedicate my life to protecting kids in and out of the foster care system by working in law enforcement. The police officers who helped remove my siblings and me from the dangerous situation we were born into gave us a second chance at life. I want to be that kind of officer—someone who looks out for kids who feel trapped and helpless, who steps in when they need protection the most. Education is my path forward. It will give me the tools and training to serve my community and ensure that children don’t have to endure the same hardships I did. I want to be a force for good, offering safety and hope to kids who might not have anyone else looking out for them. My story isn’t just about struggle—it’s about strength, resilience, and a determination to make a difference in the lives of others.