3. To me, ensuring “everyone has a voice” means creating space for people to be seen, heard, and valued—especially those who are often overlooked, dismissed, or silenced. It’s about more than just giving someone a chance to speak; it’s about making sure their experiences and perspectives are respected and considered. It’s about equity, empathy, and empowerment. This value is deeply personal to me, and it shapes how I show up in every area of my life, from daily interactions to leadership roles. Growing up, I often witnessed people struggle to speak up—whether it was a friend who didn’t feel smart enough to contribute in class, a student who didn’t speak English fluently, or a single mom who felt judged and unheard by the system. I realized that having a voice isn’t always about volume or confidence—it’s about access and support. Not everyone has the same platform or encouragement to share their truth, and I’ve made it a personal mission to help create those opportunities for others. In my daily life, this means being intentional about how I listen. Whether it’s in a group discussion, a team project, or even a casual conversation, I pay attention to who isn’t speaking up—and I find ways to gently invite them in. Sometimes that looks like directly asking someone for their thoughts. Other times, it means slowing down a fast-paced conversation so quieter voices can contribute without being drowned out. I believe that making others feel safe and respected when they speak up is just as important as encouraging them to do so in the first place. As a student and an athlete, I’ve carried this mindset into my leadership roles. On the field, I’ve seen how easy it is for some players to dominate conversations and decision-making while others fade into the background. As a team leader, I make it a point to check in with everyone—not just the loudest or most experienced teammates. I ask for input from those who might be hesitant to share, and I reinforce that every voice matters, regardless of position, seniority, or personality. This has created a stronger, more united team culture where people feel ownership and trust each other. In school clubs and community service projects, I try to lead with inclusion and empathy. I’ve learned that leadership isn’t about having all the answers—it’s about creating an environment where others feel empowered to speak up, challenge ideas, and collaborate. I also try to use my voice to advocate for others when they can’t. That means speaking out against unfair treatment, standing up for classmates or teammates, and pushing for more representation in decisions that affect everyone. Ultimately, ensuring everyone has a voice is about more than just words—it’s about dignity. It’s about showing people that their ideas, experiences, and identities matter. It’s about listening with intention, leading with compassion, and using any power or privilege I have to uplift others. Whether I’m in a classroom, on a team, or someday in a courtroom, I want to be someone who makes others feel heard and valued—because when everyone has a voice, we build stronger, fairer communities.

From a young age, I’ve been deeply sensitive to the struggles of children who grow up without stability, safety, or the unconditional support every child deserves. As I got older and learned more about the challenges faced by kids in foster care and families headed by single mothers, I realized that I wanted to dedicate my life to making a difference in their lives. That’s what led me to pursue a career in family law—not just as a profession, but as a purpose. Family law isn't just about legal paperwork, custody battles, or court hearings—it's about people. It’s about protecting the vulnerable, advocating for justice, and helping rebuild lives when families are fractured or at risk. I am especially drawn to cases involving foster care and single-parent households because these situations are often overlooked or mishandled in the legal system. Children end up feeling lost, unheard, and powerless. I want to be the person who stands beside them, who listens, who fights for what’s right—even when it’s difficult. The foster care system, in particular, is full of good intentions but too often falls short in execution. Many children cycle through homes without ever finding stability or the love they need to grow into healthy adults. They may feel invisible, confused, or angry—not because they’ve done anything wrong, but because the system failed to protect them. As a family lawyer, I want to be a steady advocate for these kids. I want to ensure they have someone who sees them as individuals, not just another case number. I’m also passionate about helping single mothers—women who, in many cases, are doing everything in their power to give their children a good life, often while facing judgment, financial strain, and limited legal support. Too many of these mothers are overwhelmed, misunderstood, and underserved. I’ve seen how the legal system can intimidate or dismiss them. I want to be the kind of lawyer who helps them understand their rights, navigate the system confidently, and come out stronger on the other side. My passion for family law is rooted in empathy, but it’s driven by a desire for tangible change. I’ve volunteered with children’s organizations, participated in mentorship programs, and sought out opportunities to learn about the real-life impact of legal decisions on families. These experiences have only strengthened my belief that the law can be a tool for healing and empowerment—when it’s wielded by someone who cares deeply about the people behind the cases. Becoming a family lawyer isn’t just my career goal—it’s my mission. I want to be a source of hope and clarity for kids in foster care, a fierce ally for single moms fighting for a better life, and a compassionate advocate who helps families find stability when everything around them feels uncertain. In a world where so many people go unheard, I want to make sure they are not only heard—but truly seen, understood, and protected.

Balancing varsity sports, academics, and personal life has shaped me into a stronger, more resilient woman, especially in a world where male dominance still often dictates the rules. Being a female athlete taught me more than just how to play a game—it taught me how to lead, push through adversity, and assert my worth in spaces where I’m not always expected to succeed. Varsity sports are demanding. The practices are intense, the competitions fierce, and the expectations high. Add academics and a social life to the mix, and the pressure can feel overwhelming. But instead of backing down, I learned to adapt. I became efficient with my time, organizing my days down to the hour so I could meet deadlines, stay on top of schoolwork, and still give 100% on the field. That level of discipline translated into every part of my life. It helped me approach challenges with a clear head and a strong sense of purpose, even when others doubted me. As a female athlete, I’ve had to constantly prove that I belong. There were times when our games didn’t get the same support or recognition as the boys’. We trained just as hard, if not harder, but the difference in attention was obvious. That imbalance opened my eyes to the deeper gender disparities that exist not just in sports, but in society as a whole. Rather than letting it discourage me, it fueled me. I became more vocal, not only advocating for my team but also for other young women who deserve to be seen and heard. Sports gave me a sense of agency. I wasn’t just part of a team—I learned to lead, to communicate, and to hold myself accountable. I discovered how to carry myself with confidence even when I didn’t feel it yet. And slowly, that confidence became real. Competing taught me how to handle setbacks, how to lose with grace, and most importantly, how to keep going when things get tough. These lessons have extended far beyond the field. In school, in jobs, and in everyday interactions, I’ve learned to stand up for myself and others. I understand now that strength isn't just physical—it's mental, emotional, and rooted in knowing your value even when the world doesn’t always affirm it. Varsity sports taught me how to compete, yes—but more than that, it taught me how to show up fully, persist relentlessly, and lead boldly. In a male-dominated world, being a female athlete gave me the tools to break through. I don’t just want a seat at the table—I want to change the game.