I never had a perfect, step-by-step plan for my future. No one in my family works in tech, and I didn’t grow up surrounded by engineers or programmers. What I did have, though, was curiosity. Whenever I used an app or website, I didn’t just think, *“Oh, that’s cool.”* I thought, *“How does this actually work?”* That simple question is what pulled me toward programming and eventually toward the STEM field. At first, coding felt intimidating. Lines of symbols and brackets looked like a different language. But once I started learning, something clicked. I realized programming is really about logic and problem-solving. It’s about breaking big problems into smaller ones and figuring them out step by step. I loved the feeling of writing code, running it, and seeing something I created actually function. Even when it didn’t work, I liked the challenge of fixing it. Debugging didn’t feel like failure — it felt like solving a puzzle. Being a first-generation college student has also shaped why I care so much about STEM. When I started thinking about college, everything felt confusing — financial aid forms, scholarships, deadlines, and requirements no one had explained to me before. I had to figure out a lot on my own while balancing school and work. There were times when it felt overwhelming, like I was trying to solve a problem without having all the information. But those experiences made me more determined. They taught me how to research, ask questions, and keep going even when I felt lost. I’m also on the autism spectrum, which has influenced the way I see the world. Growing up, I sometimes felt misunderstood. Some people assumed I couldn’t handle challenges, while others thought I didn’t need support because I seemed “high functioning.” That in-between space was exhausting. Over time, though, I started to see that the way my brain works is actually a strength — especially in STEM. I notice patterns quickly. I pay attention to small details. I can focus deeply on a problem for hours. In programming, those traits aren’t weaknesses; they’re advantages. What really motivates me is realizing how much technology shapes people’s lives. The systems that control education, financial aid, healthcare, and communication are all built with code. If those systems are confusing or poorly designed, people get left behind — especially students from underserved communities. I’ve experienced that confusion firsthand. That’s why I don’t just want to work in tech; I want to improve it. I’m especially interested in creating tools that make complicated systems easier to understand. I want to help design platforms that are accessible, clear, and inclusive — especially for first-generation and neurodivergent students like me. Technology shouldn’t make people feel small or overwhelmed. It should empower them. STEM isn’t just a career choice for me. It’s a way to solve real problems and create opportunities where there weren’t any before. I may be the first in my family to take this path, but I’m determined to make sure I’m not the last.

Growing up with autism has presented its fair share of challenges, particularly the constant comparisons to my peers who often perceived my way of thinking as different. From a young age, especially after my diagnosis at the Marcus Institute when I was just 32 months old, I faced ridicule from those who lacked a true understanding of my experiences and capabilities. Initially, I thought I could bridge this gap by over-explaining myself, desperately seeking validation from those who couldn't place themselves in my shoes. Yet, by the end of my 8th grade year, spilling over into my freshman year of high school, I learned a powerful lesson: actions often speak louder than words. Taking that lesson into account, I channeled my energy into establishing writing clubs at every school I attended. These clubs became a platform not only for my passion for writing but also a space for fostering creativity and self-expression among my peers. Balancing these responsibilities along with my coursework, I thrived academically, achieving exceptional scores on my AP exams. The journey wasn’t always smooth, however. The frequent changes in my environment due to family circumstances brought chaos and uncertainty. But it was within it that I found my voice and learned to advocate for others, bringing writing to the forefront as a vital skill that can both make or break communities. And I chose the former. This drive for advocacy and community building is deeply rooted in my own experiences. I stand as a testament to the achievements that can be unlocked with support, determination, and understanding. My diagnosis opened doors to therapeutic guidance that shaped me into who I am today. The encouragement from occupational and speech therapists illuminated my path, helping me confront and trump the limitations imposed by society's misconceptions about individuals on the spectrum. As I embark on the next chapter of my education, I am eager to channel this experience into a broader narrative of advocacy for those like me who were constantly doubted.