The first piece of jewelry I ever created was a disaster, made of dirty clay beads, uneven wire, and barely held together. But as I held those imperfect earrings in my hands, something clicked. I wasn’t looking at a failed craft project; I was seeing the beginning of my greatest passion. What started as a simple creative outlet quickly grew into something much larger. Within months, I was learning to source materials, track inventory, learn profit margins, and design marketing strategies, all while balancing life as a full-time athlete and honors student. Many late nights after homework were spent not just making jewelry, but building a business. The real test came when I decided to scale beyond personal sales. My first big step was pitching my products to a store. That negotiation pushed me outside my comfort zone, yet I found myself thriving. Soon, I expanded into seven retail locations across Chicago within a single year. No textbook could have taught me what this process did. Scaling wasn’t just about growth, it required understanding different market demands, adapting quickly, and learning how to work effectively with people. When I later presented my scaling strategy in my school’s Pitch Competition, I realized how much these hands on experiences had shaped my ability to think strategically, creatively, and confidently in front of judges. But the accomplishment I value most isn’t tied to personal profit, it’s the opportunities I’ve created for others. After noticing how many students had business ideas but no platform to share them, I founded the Makers Market at my high school. I built the event from scratch, determined to provide a free space where young entrepreneurs could showcase their products, pitch their ideas, and form connections. Watching students gain confidence as they displayed their work taught me that entrepreneurship isn’t just about individual success; it’s about creating systems that lift entire communities. That experience fundamentally changed the way I view business. As my business grew, every milestone only fueled my ambition. Each negotiation, and challenge didn’t feel like an ending, it felt like the beginning of something bigger. While some students were content running small side businesses, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was only scratching the surface of what I could build. The late nights energized me; every solved problem felt like another piece of a puzzle. And as I gained experience, I realized that success felt hollow when it didn’t create impact beyond myself. That clarity pushed me to channel my ambition into something more meaningful than sales. My future goal extends far beyond growing my own brand. I want to continue building platforms for young entrepreneurs and prove that age is never a barrier to creating real change. The determination that transformed my imperfect clay earrings into a thriving business is the same determination that drives me to create opportunities for others. I hope to expand the Makers Market model into broader programs that support young creators, innovators, and starting small business owners who need resources or a place to start. Those first messy earrings taught me something I still carry: achievement isn’t about perfection. It’s about taking risks, learning through action, and using your skills to make an impact. Jewelry may have been the beginning of my journey, but entrepreneurship and the community it builds has become the bigger purpose behind everything I create.

Growing up in a single father wasn't just about adapting to the dynamic of one having one parent but, it was about surviving the chaos that followed. After escaping my mother's abuse to live with my father, I discovered what safety could feel like, but I also learned that healing from our trauma required extraordinary resilience from the both of us. My father very suddenly became my sole provider, protector, and emotional support for both my twin sister and I. Watching him navigate court battles, legal fees, and the constant threat of our mother trying to regain custody showed me true strength and sacrifice. He worked multiple jobs while simultaneously fighting a massive legal battle with lawyers who were determined to reunite us with our abuser. There were nights I'd find him in his office surrounded by legal papers, on the phone with lawyers trying his very best to protect us. My dad is not a lawyer but he threw his all into learning the law and court filings, all to keep us safe. This experience taught me that single parents carry many invisible burdens to protect their children. My father didn't just raise us, he became our shield, and proof that unwavering love can rebuild the life that someone else had tried to destroy. I watched him make impossible choices: taking time off work to attend court hearings, spending money we didn't have on lawyers, and bearing the weight of two traumatized teenagers while dealing with his own pain from his ex-wife and watching his children suffer. Living in this type of environment shaped my understanding of justice in many ways. I saw how the system failed families like ours, how especially single dads, faced skepticism when fighting for their children's safety. I witnessed the bias judges had towards the mom that abused and raped me, I saw how my father was sunned for trying to protect me and I saw the financial strain that comes with legal battles. I saw the way that trauma rippled through our household, and most importantly I saw how my dad had to become an expert in everything from law to cooking overnight. However, his silent strength also taught me resilience. My father showed me that protection isn't just about providing, it's about creating a space for hope. In our home, we became a team. We learned to communicate openly about our fears, to support each other, and to celebrate small victories together. This experience taught me that families aren't defined by traditional structures but by love, and the willingness to fight for each other. When the legal system failed us, I turned to social media to share our story. It was part of my responsibility to protect all of us. I knew I had to help my father in some way, so I connected with other children from broken systems who felt they didn't have a voice. Together, we built a movement that led to real legislative change, helping pass laws that protect children from harmful reunification practices and founding the Family Court Youth Survivors Coalition. Looking into the future, I envision using my past experiences to transform how our society supports fathers and protects vulnerable children. I want to create systems that recognize the unique challenges single fathers and self representing parents face in custody battles. I also want to challenge public perception about non-traditional families. Too often, single parent households are viewed through a lens of failure rather than strength. My father taught me that fighting for what's right isn't just about winning, it's about facing the darkness together.

One of the most critical issues facing our criminal justice system today is its systematic failure to protect children from abuse within family court. Courts continuously dismiss children's testimonies, ignore evidence of abuse, and force harmful practices like "reunification therapy" that force children back to their abusers. This is a crisis and it stems from outdated assumptions and methods like the stereotype that “keeping families together is always best”, regardless of the danger children face with abusive parents. Hiding and trembling at fourteen, I experienced this failure firsthand. Crouched behind curtains with my twin sister, we knew that strangers could arrive at any moment to drag us back to our mother, the person meant to protect us, who had instead paid for our kidnapping. Months earlier, I had escaped to my father's house for safety, but my mother wanted us back through force, not love. She had kidnapped us before, driving for hours while screaming, degrading, and starving us. My mother had stolen everything from me: my body, my safety, and my trust when she assaulted and raped me, insisting that this was normal for a mother to do, that all mothers did this. I filed police reports, attempted to get emancipated 4 times, was interviewed by DCFS, and went through experimental reunification therapy, all because I didn't want to be with someone who would hurt me. The legal system abandoned me, I had to turn to social media as my only weapon. I shared my story, the abuse, trauma, and twisted court orders that prioritized an abuser's rights over a child's safety. People listened. Strangers offered support. My posts spread, and suddenly I was no longer invisible. Social media became my shield; it couldn't stop my mother, but it slowed her down as her carefully constructed mask of a loving mother finally crumbled. Advocacy became my entry into criminal justice. Through my platform, I connected with other kids trapped in the same broken system where family courts labeled abusers as "fit" parents. Sharing our stories, we turned pain into action and became advocates. We spoke to lawmakers until our voices shook, building a movement to fight against "reunification therapy"—a legal order that allows judges to legally kidnap children, and force them back to abusers . I've testified, founded the FCYSC “Family Court Youth Survivors Coalition" to bring together survivors of reunification and help draft laws to prevent this from happening in the future. I have also helped to pass Kayden and Piques Law in Pennsylvania, and California to protect kids against alienation, and reunification therapy in child custody cases. My case is currently in the supreme court awaiting review, and I helped get it there. Through my efforts, I've educated lawmakers about the dangers of these programs and advocated for changes that prioritize children's safety over family preservation. Despite our progress, I still lived in fear, clinging to hope that courts would protect me, but they didn't. Even as I fought to protect other children, no one would protect me. I am haunted not just by what happened but by the never-ending court battle: the constant fighting, interviews, police reports, hearings. The performance—acting like I am okay while I'm just fighting to survive, hurts more than anything. Advocacy has taught me to navigate complex systems, communicate under pressure, and rally public support, all skills that are essential for a career in law. I've learned how to inspire action, connect authentically, and lead with conviction through adversity. Most importantly, I've discovered that survivors' voices carry power because we understand that what’s really at stake are lives, our lives. In my future legal career, I plan to work on three fronts: reforming family court procedures to prioritize children's safety through mandatory training for judges; banning reunification therapy and reunification camps; and establishing specialized laws prohibiting the exploitation of children in custody cases. I am still not free from my mother, but I will be. When I turn eighteen, I will finally be beyond her legal reach. I have lost years of safety, innocence, and childhood, but I never lost my voice. My story is more than just trauma; it is the foundation of the bold, compassionate person I am becoming. Every case I take and every law I change will ensure no child endures what I experienced. I won't allow the courts to look away.

The first time I walked into a store to pitch my jewelry, the owner looked me up and down and asked if my dad was coming to handle the "business talk." I was fourteen, and not what he expected from a young entrepreneur. I built my jewelry business from the ground up by myself, but apparently I wasn’t qualified to talk about my passion, because of my age and my gender. That moment made me realize that being a woman in business means proving yourself twice as hard, and building a solid foundation that won’t crack under pressure, because everyone is going to try and bring you down. My journey began with imperfect clay bead earrings that sparked my obsession with creating something beautiful from nothing. Within months, my creative outlet evolved into a real business with customers, and one small retail location that helps young makers get off their feet. I was navigating complex systems, spreadsheets, managing profit margins, and designing and making every one of my prices myself. I did this all while maintaining a 3.8 GPA and training everyday as a JV swimmer. However my real training came from the constant pushback I faced simply for trying to achieve more than any other female was at my school. In my business startup class, I was the only girl in a room of boys who automatically got taken seriously when they pitched their ideas. My ideas were questioned and my success was played off as luck, rather than my own hard work. When I won our school's pitch competition, classmates suggested that it was only because I was in a real retail location or because I had someone helping me. The truth is that I didn’t have anyone helping me or making decisions for me. When I eventually scaled to seven retail locations in one year, people assumed that I wasn’t the one actually doing the work. These experiences taught me that the business world isn't just challenging, it's designed to exclude voices like mine. However this didn’t discourage me, it ignited my passion to prove them all wrong. I know my success is mine, but it’s also about proving what's possible when you refuse to accept the limits others place on you. I wanted to create the same opportunity that that one retail store gave me when I was just starting out. So I created the Makers Market at my high school. I saw how many talented students had incredible products but lacked the ability to pursue business. So I created a platform to showcase them without fees and in a supportive environment. Watching others succeed at my event showed me that my real mission isn't just building my own business, it's also about creating opportunities for others in my community. Especially other women who have struggled like me. The impact I want to create extends far beyond just my jewelry business. I envision building permanent maker spaces where young women can access professional resources, mentorship from other successful female CEO’s, and making communities that celebrate everyone’s dreams. I want to establish programs that provide seed money to girls whose ideas are dismissed by investors, and support other small businesses however I can. Most importantly, I want to disprove the myth that women are less capable. My story is still being written, but each chapter builds toward this same goal. When future young women walk into stores to pitch their ideas, I want them to be met with respect, not skepticism. That's the world I'm fighting to create, one business, one platform, one person at a time.

The discipline and faith I've developed through my experience as a student athlete has profoundly influenced my identity and the way I approach business. I face challenges with integrity and perseverance at the forefront and my core beliefs act as a compass, guiding me as I navigate the complexities of business. I primarily swim butterfly, an extremely demanding stroke that most swimmers tend to avoid, but I embrace the challenge, as I’m convinced that only by confronting adversity can one truly understand their limitations. My dedication to butterfly has reinforced a lesson: the most demanding path often yields the most substantial rewards. The path of least resistance rarely leads to genuine success or fulfillment. I apply this philosophy directly to my business. When launching my jewelry business, I had opportunities to compromise, I could buy lower quality materials, or I could lie to customers for higher profit margins. However, my values compelled me to prioritize sourcing ethical, high-quality materials, even when it was expensive and reduced my margins. My faith centers on the conviction that my purpose extends beyond myself; I am called to support others. An example of this is when I grew my business to be established at a retail location in Chicago! However even though this achievement was amazing, my most meaningful achievement was the creation of a Makers Market for fellow business students. I am deeply committed to establishing platforms for aspiring entrepreneurs, particularly those who experienced the same barriers I faced. The Makers Market provided these opportunities to others, and that impact is what resonates with me. Through founding the FCYSC to advocate for child safety, I have witnessed firsthand how business acumen can serve as a powerful ability for justice. My faith compels me to advocate for those who lack a voice, and I have discovered that my values, and my creative business skills, are invaluable in advocacy. I am dedicated to using my experiences for individuals who have faced challenges in family court and are survivors of family violence, court abuse, and reunification camps. The discipline demanded by the butterfly stroke mirrors the rigor required in business. Just as my swimming remains unbroken even under exhaustion, my ethical standards remain unbroken, even under significant pressure. In my startup class, as the only female student, I have felt compelled to conform and stay quiet. However, I am continually reminded that real leadership means remaining true to your principles, even when you're uncomfortable. My beliefs also shape my view on competition. Swimming has taught me that my main competitor is myself; I strive to beat my personal best rather than beat others. In business, my focus is on creating value, rather than outperforming or committing against other businesses. When I see other entrepreneurs succeed, I am excited to celebrate their achievements rather than think of their success as limiting my own. My faith provides my direction, my values supply motivation, and my athletic discipline provides perseverance. All of these essential qualities have helped me build a value system that honors both God and community, and that is capable of leaving a lasting, positive impact.

The first piece of jewelry I ever created was a disaster. It was made of dirty clay beads, uneven wire, and it was barely held together. As I held those imperfect earrings in my hands, something clicked. I wasn't just looking at a failed craft project; I was seeing proof that I could create something from nothing. That moment ignited a motivation that has driven my belief that with enough determination, any idea can become reality. What motivates me isn't the profit, it's the moment when I see potential where others see problems. Every late night I spent perfecting spreadsheets and marketing strategies has fueled my vision of what my business could become. However, my deepest motivation was when I realized that individual success felt useless without impact. I have the drive to create opportunities for others, to prove that young women can build meaningful platforms, and become a force that goes beyond. My jewelry business began as a creative outlet, but quickly evolved into something much larger. The most meaningful event I've created is when I established the Makers Market at my high school. It is incredibly hard for small entrepreneurs to get a platform that showcases their products without cost. My goal was to provide that platform so people could show off their creations and inventions, all while pitching and creating connections. This experience taught me that entrepreneurship isn't just about individual success; it's about making things that support everyone. The greatest challenge I've faced has been overcoming the barrier of being both 17 years old and a woman in business. I've faced significant backlash because of my age, people questioning whether I'm "serious" enough or whether I truly understand how to run a business. Being the only female in my business startup class has only amplified these challenges. I've had to navigate an environment where my ideas are sometimes dismissed or where I'm expected to prove my intelligence repeatedly. This has been both difficult and motivating. I want to prove them wrong, and I will. Scaling my business meant constantly adapting to different markets and managing new relationships, all while proving that my age and gender are assets, not limitations. Balancing this with being a full-time athlete and honors student required not just time, but also emotional strength when people doubted my capabilities. Each challenge has strengthened my resolve and my vision. My future goal isn't just to build a successful business; it's to create platforms that empower other young entrepreneurs and demonstrate that determination can transform any messy beginning into an extraordinary future. As the only girl in my business startup class, I've dealt with plenty of situations where I felt like I had to prove myself twice. That's exactly why the program I will build would prioritize creating safe spaces that connect women with mentors who actually get it. I'm not just trying to grow my own brand; I want to build something that proves what happens when you give women the resources and support we deserve. I truly believe that when you give us the chance to lead, we will change the world. If I were awarded this scholarship, the first thing I'd do is expand The Makers Market I started at school. I want to be the start of change and jumpstart my future career with this funding. I plan to create a space where young entrepreneurs have a platform to showcase their work and learn from each other. This is the ticket to that dream.

Hiding and trembling, I felt fear pulsing through every nerve. I was fourteen—crouched behind the curtains, barely breathing. Every passing car jolted me with terror; every footstep sounded like a warning bell. My heart thundered against my chest, threatening to give me away. I was hiding with my twin sister, too afraid to step outside. We knew that at any moment, we could be taken and restrained by strangers sent by the person meant to protect us. Our mother had paid strangers to kidnap us. Months earlier, I had escaped to my father’s house for safety. However, my mother wanted us back and reached out not with love or understanding but with force. She had kidnapped my sister and me before, driving with us for hours as she screamed, degraded, and starved us. I remember choking back sobs, weak from hunger and terror, as I begged her to stop. Stop the car. Stop the yelling. Stop the assault. Realizing that I could not survive with someone who claimed to own me and my body, I used the only weapon I had: social media. I shared my story: the abuse, the trauma, the twisted court orders, and the family who turned away. Above all, I revealed the crushing fear that controlled my life. I was not sure if it would make a difference, but I had to try. People listened. Strangers offered support. My posts spread, and suddenly, I was no longer invisible. Social media became my shield; it could not stop my mother, but it slowed her down. Her carefully constructed mask as a loving, misunderstood mother finally crumbled. Through my posts and videos, I found both power and purpose. I connected with other kids trapped in broken systems, dismissed by family courts that labeled abusers as “fit” parents. Sharing our stories, we turned our pain into action. Together, we became advocates. We spoke to lawmakers until our voices shook and built a movement to fight against “reunification therapy,” a harmful practice that forces children back to their abusers. Yet, despite our progress, I still lived in fear. Having clung to the hope that the court would protect me, I found time and again that it would not. It ignored me. Even as I fought to protect other children, no one would protect me. Even now, when I go home, I am afraid. I am haunted not just by what happened but by the never-ending court battle: the constant fighting, interviews, police reports, hearings. The performance—acting like I am okay while I'm just fighting to survive, hurts more than anything. I am still not free from my mother, but I will be. When I turn eighteen, I will finally be beyond her legal reach. I have lost years of safety, innocence, and childhood, but I never lost my voice. My experiences have shaped me into the kind of person I want to become. Surviving abuse and battling a flawed system demanded resourcefulness, strategic thinking, and relentless courage. Being forced to advocate fiercely for myself, communicate clearly under constant pressure, and rally public support through social media has taught me to do more than survive. As I prepare for a career in business, I carry with me empathy, unwavering resilience, and the ability to navigate complex systems with creativity and determination. I have learned how to inspire action, connect authentically, and lead with conviction through adversity. I am committed to channeling this same courage into my future and confronting every obstacle head-on. My story is more than just trauma; it is the foundation of the bold, compassionate person I am becoming.