I’ve been standing on my fatigued and cramping feet for seven and a half hours, much of the shift bagging customers’ groceries. Under rows of bright, fluorescent lights, I stuff cans of soup, a loaf of bread, and a half gallon carton of milk into flimsy plastic bags as I watch two customers bicker over the mask policy. Elderly people zoom past me on motor carts, a disheveled woman jabbers loudly about the prohibitive pork prices, and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. For many, the cashier and I are their only sounding board after a long day. As I bag groceries for customer after customer, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three young kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while continuing to work from home during the pandemic. In this line, I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday. I also meet an elderly couple who speak of their underlying conditions and fear dying from COVID-19. I pick up the stories of my fellow employees too. One cashier works here at night and in the classroom during the day. A deli worker clocks a 73-hour workweek between her multiple minimum-wage jobs. The pharmacist’s daughter is sick, the customer service clerk too, both buried in medical bills. The florist, a college student, works to pay her high tuition. In college, economics intrigues me. It purports to explain all the choices made in the world. A grande iced vanilla chai latte or a tall peppermint mocha? Keep prices stable or raise prices despite already-cosmic profits? With each choice made, one is thinking at the margin, weighing the benefits and risks of each decision and action. As a Federal Pell Grant recipient and first-generation college student working two jobs, I can understand the academic, financial, and personal challenges such as the ones I come across at the store. Identifying the personal and economic struggles of others has allowed me to better understand the choice I must make. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining about the high cost of pork, or I can listen and discover she just lost her job. As she breaks down, I realize that everyone has a story to tell. I see on the micro level the limitations and imperfections of America’s market-based economy and the need to protect those who fall behind. For me, the choice is clear. I must help. During the pandemic, beef prices rose nearly 16% while the four biggest beef companies’ profits rose more than 300%. These practices don’t end at the store’s sliding doors. The four largest airlines control 80% of all domestic airline seats and 99% of drug stores in the United States are operated by only three pharmacy chains. This reduces competition and provides an easy route for corporations to hike the prices of basic goods all households require like food, heath care, and travel. My desire to attend law school stems from a sincere passion for economics and service. I want to serve the public’s interest—like the many customers and fellow employees with whom I have interacted with—and advocate for them to ensure both our justice system and economic system work for all of us—no matter one’s occupation or the size of their bank account. As a lawyer, I hope to protect those who fall behind through the struggles and disadvantages of America’s imperfect market-based economy through government work at the FTC or the DOJ.

I’ve been standing on my fatigued and cramping feet for seven and a half hours, much of the shift bagging customers’ groceries. Under rows of bright, fluorescent lights, I stuff cans of soup, a loaf of bread, and a half gallon carton of milk into flimsy plastic bags as I watch two customers bicker over the mask policy. Elderly people zoom past me on motor carts, a disheveled woman jabbers loudly about the prohibitive pork prices, and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. For many, the cashier and I are their only sounding board after a long day. As I bag groceries for customer after customer, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three young kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while continuing to work from home during the pandemic. In this line, I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday. I also meet an elderly couple who speak of their underlying conditions and fear dying from COVID-19. I pick up the stories of my fellow employees too. One cashier works here at night and in the classroom during the day. A deli worker clocks a 73-hour workweek between her multiple minimum-wage jobs. The pharmacist’s daughter is sick, the customer service clerk too, both buried in medical bills. The florist, a college student, works to pay her high tuition. In college, economics intrigues me. It purports to explain all the choices made in the world. A grande iced vanilla chai latte or a tall peppermint mocha? Keep prices stable or raise prices despite already-cosmic profits? With each choice made, one is thinking at the margin, weighing the benefits and risks of each decision and action. As a Federal Pell Grant recipient and first-generation college student working two jobs, I can understand the academic, financial, and personal challenges such as the ones I come across at the store. Identifying the personal and economic struggles of others has allowed me to better understand the choice I must make. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining about the high cost of pork, or I can listen and discover she just lost her job. As she breaks down, I realize that everyone has a story to tell. I see on the micro level the limitations and imperfections of America’s market-based economy and the need to protect those who fall behind. For me, the choice is clear. I must help. During the pandemic, beef prices rose nearly 16% while the four biggest beef companies’ profits rose more than 300%. These practices don’t end at the store’s sliding doors. The four largest airlines control 80% of all domestic airline seats and 99% of drug stores in the United States are operated by only three pharmacy chains. This reduces competition and provides an easy route for corporations to hike the prices of basic goods all households require like food, heath care, and travel. My desire to attend law school stems from a sincere passion for economics and service. I want to serve the public’s interest—like the many customers and fellow employees with whom I have interacted with—and advocate for them to ensure both our justice system and economic system work for all of us—no matter one’s occupation or the size of their bank account. As a lawyer, I hope to protect those who fall behind through the struggles and disadvantages of America’s imperfect market-based economy through government work at the FTC or the DOJ.

As a first-generation college student, I know what it’s like to struggle through academic, financial, and personal challenges. During the pandemic, my parent’s clientele dropped nearly 90 percent. I grew unmotivated in school and disconnected from my peers. Despite the setbacks, I have an academic record that demonstrates competency and ambition. I passed eight Advanced Placement courses in high school and am currently an Economics and Political Science double major with a minor in Justice Studies and three certificates who will be graduating a year early from my University’s Honors College. Working as a grocery store bagger during the coronavirus pandemic, I witnessed the struggles working people faced trying to feed their families while billionaires lined their pockets. This frustrates me—and I want to make a difference to support those who are unable to stand up to the wealthy, powerful, and well-connected. I want to protect the rights of consumers and workers from corporations and greedy executives who seek to limit competition and exploit employees’ labor. Though far from perfect, America’s market-based economic system has proven to be one of the most effective at promoting growth and prosperity. However, this system is fragile and requires regulations to keep companies from stifling competition, consolidating to become too big to fail, and hurting consumers. Some present-day examples may hit home. Today, three pharmacy chains control ninty-nine percent of drug stores in the United States, four companies control eighty-five percent of the beef market, and the four biggest airlines control eighty percent of all domestic airline seats. And, as many Swifties know, Ticketmaster is practically the only ticketing service that serves the public which has resulted in exorbitant fees and driven the price up for consumers. The rapid rise in monopolization over the last generation has increased inequality in several ways. Monopolization means the powerful can charge citizens more for such basic goods as health care, housing, and travel. Monopolization also means that the people who control corporations can pay workers less, knowing workers have fewer places to sell their labor. Just as the government is justified in imposing building and fire codes in the interest of public safety, it must also be justified in regulating corporations to protect the interests of workers, consumers, and the public at large. While the billionaire class of CEOs and executives become richer and richer, working-class Americans who put their blood, sweat, and tears into the American economy are left to fend for themselves—earning a starvation wage and having to choose between keeping a permanent address or keeping food on their family’s dinner table. This mocks the idea that America is a meritocracy—that anyone can make it if they put in the work. I am committed to going to law school in order to garner the knowledge and skills necessary to work in antitrust/competition as well as employment/labor law. I want to advocate for workers and consumers and ensure that both our justice system and economic system work for all of us—no matter one’s occupation or the size of their bank account. I believe that if students have an academic record that demonstrates competency and ambition, they should be given the opportunity to earn their Juris Doctor. Unfortunately, this is not the case due to the financial limitations of many. For me, being awarded this scholarship is not only financial assistance allowing me to go to law school but an opportunity for me to give back to those in my community; representing them, holding companies accountable, and protecting those who fall behind through the struggles and disadvantages of America’s imperfect market-based economy.

Though far from perfect, America’s market-based economic system has proven to be one of the most effective at promoting growth and prosperity. However, this system is fragile and requires regulations to keep companies from stifling competition, consolidating to become too big to fail, and hurting consumers. Some present-day examples may hit home. Today, three pharmacy chains control ninty-nine percent of drug stores in the United States, four companies control eighty-five percent of the beef market, and the four biggest airlines control eighty percent of all domestic airline seats. And, as many Swifties know, Ticketmaster is practically the only ticketing service that serves the public which has resulted in exorbitant fees and driven the price up for consumers. The rapid rise in monopolization over the last generation has increased inequality in several ways. Monopolization means the powerful can charge citizens more for such basic goods as health care, housing, and travel. Monopolization also means that the people who control corporations can pay workers less, knowing workers have fewer places to sell their labor. Just as the government is justified in imposing building and fire codes in the interest of public safety, it must also be justified in regulating corporations to protect the interests of workers, consumers, and the public at large. While the billionaire class of CEOs and executives become richer and richer, working-class Americans who put their blood, sweat, and tears into the American economy are left to fend for themselves—earning a starvation wage and having to choose between keeping a permanent address or keeping food on their family’s dinner table. This mocks the idea that America is a meritocracy—that anyone can make it if they put in the work. As a first-generation college student, I know what it’s like to struggle through academic, financial, and personal challenges. These issues frustrate me—and I want to make a difference to support those who are unable to stand up to the wealthy, powerful, and well-connected. I want to protect the rights of consumers and workers from the corporations and greedy executives who seek to limit competition and exploit employees’ labor. I am committed to going to law school in order to garner the knowledge and skills necessary to work in antitrust/competiton as well as employment/labor law. I want to advocate for workers and consumers and ensure that both our justice system and economic system work for all of us—no matter one’s occupation or the size of their bank account. As an Economics and Political Science double major with a minor in Justice Studies and three certificates who will be graduating a year early from my University’s Honors College, I have the drive and motivation to succeed in law school and perform effectively as a lawyer. I believe that if students have an academic record that demonstrates competency and ambition, they should be given the opportunity to earn their Juris Doctor. Unfortunately, this is not the case due to the financial limitations of many. For me, being awarded this scholarship is not only financial assistance allowing me to go to law school but an opportunity for me to give back to those in my community; representing them, holding companies accountable, and protecting those who fall behind through the struggles and disadvantages of America’s imperfect market-based economy.

I’ve been standing for eight hours bagging customers’ groceries. A disheveled woman rudely complains about our slim syrup selection and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. As I bag groceries for customers, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while working from home during the pandemic. I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday and an elderly couple who speak of their fear dying from COVID. In this store, I come across countless situations that aren’t fair. I know I’m lucky. During the pandemic, my parent’s clientele dropped nearly 90 percent and I grew disconnected from peers, but I still felt fortunate. Unlike customers who have experienced many more sleepless nights than me, my family goes to bed with relatively few worries knowing we have all the essentials. By examining privilege, I’ve discovered humility trumps everything. If I’m unable to connect with people and genuinely care, nothing else matters. I now have a greater appreciation for a world that works together and helps each other. There’s no room for selfishness, especially among the fortunate. Our world leaves people behind all the time, and one day it could just as well be me. Working in this store and identifying my inherent advantages has allowed me to better understand my responsibility. Every day I have a choice. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining we're out of syrup, or I can listen and discover she lost her job. Everyone has a story to tell. And I'm learning that to be the type of human in a society I want to live in, I must choose to listen.

We are living in a second Gilded Age. Since the 1980s, we have seen a return to a world before the New Deal. The bottom 90% have experienced stagflation while most of the wealth has gone to the top 10%. This mocks the idea that America is a meritocracy—that anyone can make it if they put in the work. The accumulation of wealth in the hands of a few is a major cause of societal problems. Young people are smart and capable of living on their own. However, many live with their parents because they cannot afford to pay for housing. Furthermore, the concentration of wealth magnifies gender and race disparities. Women and people of color tend to make less, save less, and inherit less. It would take the average worker 400 million years to earn Elon Musk’s wealth of over $200 billion. This unchecked wealth gives the rich great political power. President Teddy Roosevelt warned that “a small class of enormously wealthy and economically powerful men, whose chief object is to hold and increase their power” could destroy American democracy. He was right. After the Citizens United decision, those with the most money have the loudest political voice. There is no question that the accumulation of wealth within the top 10% of the world’s population is to blame for societal issues. We need a wealth tax to address this. A 2% tax on the wealthiest 0.05% will generate over $3 trillion in revenue over the next 10 years, which can be used to invest in the working class so millions of Americans have a fair shot at making it. My major in Economics with a concentration in Politics and the Economy would better shape my understanding. I hope to influence policies that will find solutions while remaining economically feasible.

When I was young, my parents fostered an awareness of and participation in volunteering and community service that has remained with me. At least one weekend a month, my family would seek out and take part in an activity that helped others and gave back to the community. I have participated in scores of community events and volunteer projects. I am proud of the times I assembled activity packets and served food to cancer patients at Phoenix Children's Hospital, distributed holiday gifts at a school with disadvantaged kids, helped disabled teens play sports for the Miracle League, and packed meals for impoverished communities abroad at Feed My Starving Children. I have been humbled by these experiences and have grown to recognize the needs of my community and those less fortunate than me. I have continued my local involvement through organizations such as Key Club, National Honor Society, and the Scottsdale Mayor’s Youth Council. I am also passionate about injustice and making my community better for all. In 2018 and 2020, I served as Policy and Research intern and Youth Ambassador for Anita Malik’s campaign for United States House of Representatives. By bringing a new voice, we hoped to improve the lives of Arizona families. I was included in debate prep meetings, provided weekly briefings for the campaign, and was tasked to lead the deployment of hundreds of street signs. Furthermore, I coordinated efforts to encourage fellow students to become involved in the political process and mentored new interns. This internship led to scores of lifetime friendships and a wealth of experience and knowledge. Most of all, I began to understand that I cannot just stand aside and watch, assuming something is going to go my way. I have to work for it and earn it.

I’ve been standing for eight hours bagging customers’ groceries. A disheveled woman rudely complains about our slim syrup selection and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. As I bag groceries for customers, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while working from home during the pandemic. I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday and an elderly couple who speak of their fear dying from COVID. In this store, I come across countless situations that aren’t fair. I know I’m lucky. During the pandemic, my parent’s clientele dropped nearly 90 percent and I grew disconnected from peers, but I still felt fortunate. Unlike customers who have experienced many more sleepless nights than me, my family goes to bed with relatively few worries knowing we have all the essentials. By examining privilege, I’ve discovered humility trumps everything. If I’m unable to connect with people and genuinely care, nothing else matters. I now have a greater appreciation for a world that works together and helps each other. There’s no room for selfishness, especially among the fortunate. Our world leaves people behind all the time, and one day it could just as well be me. Working in this store and identifying my inherent advantages has allowed me to better understand my responsibility. Every day I have a choice. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining we're out of syrup, or I can listen and discover she lost her job. Everyone has a story to tell. And I'm learning that to be the type of human in a society I want to live in, I must choose to listen.

I’ve been standing for eight hours bagging customers’ groceries. A disheveled woman rudely complains about our slim syrup selection and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. As I bag groceries for customers, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while working from home during the pandemic. I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday and an elderly couple who speak of their fear dying from COVID. In this store, I come across countless situations that aren’t fair. I know I’m lucky. During the pandemic, my parent’s clientele dropped nearly 90 percent and I grew disconnected from peers, but I still felt fortunate. Unlike customers who have experienced many more sleepless nights than me, my family goes to bed with relatively few worries knowing we have all the essentials. By examining privilege, I’ve discovered humility trumps everything. If I’m unable to connect with people and genuinely care, nothing else matters. I now have a greater appreciation for a world that works together and helps each other. There’s no room for selfishness, especially among the fortunate. Our world leaves people behind all the time, and one day it could just as well be me. Working in this store and identifying my inherent advantages has allowed me to better understand my responsibility. Every day I have a choice. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining we're out of syrup, or I can listen and discover she lost her job. Everyone has a story to tell. And I'm learning that to be the type of human in a society I want to live in, I must choose to listen.

Earlier this school year, I single-handedly organized a voter registration drive at my school as a “passion project.” I wanted to demonstrate to fellow students the power they have by casting a vote. I worked with seven government and history teachers to coordinate a day during which students could register to vote and understand the history behind its importance. Many young people don't know how to register to vote or if they are registered at all. It is vital to give students the opportunity and confidence to make their voices heard. During the project, I sought to maintain a non-partisan atmosphere among both students and staff. I crafted and printed 600 sheets of registration instructions along with stickers to match as a token. Page after page, staple after staple, I was proud of the work I was doing to turn the youth in my community into more civic-minded individuals. On National Voter Registration Day, I walked into school carrying hundreds of stickers and flyers that would soon be distributed to students. As students began to register, I spoke to my Government class about the importance of casting a vote. Throughout the day, a smile grew underneath my mask as I walked the halls seeing students passing by with blue and red stickers on their shirts. I learned afterward that nearly three hundred students registered to vote that day. Despite the stress and logistics, I recognized my efforts paid off and saw how one person can make a difference. I'm currently working with the mayor, city council members, and the school board to implement curricula that would require voter registration in government classes. High school is one of the few experiences common to most people. This will educate the next generation, boost turnout, clean voter rolls, and create a healthier democracy.

I’ve been standing for eight hours bagging customers’ groceries. A disheveled woman rudely complains about our slim syrup selection and the radio flips to the next corporate pop song. As I bag groceries for customers, I overhear their stories. I meet a single mom struggling to rein in her three kids. I imagine the challenges she faces keeping her children focused in virtual school while working from home during the pandemic. I encounter parents who pick out flowers for their late son on his fourteenth birthday and an elderly couple who speak of their fear dying from COVID. In this store, I come across countless situations that aren’t fair. I know I’m lucky. During the pandemic, my parent’s clientele dropped nearly 90 percent and I grew disconnected from peers, but I still felt fortunate. Unlike customers who have experienced many more sleepless nights than me, my family goes to bed with relatively few worries knowing we have all the essentials. By examining privilege, I’ve discovered humility trumps everything. If I’m unable to connect with people and genuinely care, nothing else matters. I now have a greater appreciation for a world that works together and helps each other. There’s no room for selfishness, especially among the fortunate. Our world leaves people behind all the time, and one day it could just as well be me. Working in this store and identifying my inherent advantages has allowed me to better understand my responsibility. Every day I have a choice. I can choose to ignore the woman in line complaining we're out of syrup, or I can listen and discover she lost her job. Everyone has a story to tell. And I'm learning that to be the type of human in a society I want to live in, I must choose to listen.

When one imagines a community leader, they often think of those in elevated positions such as the mayor, city officials, or businesspeople. Those people have the power and resources to make vast influences in a community. In my mind, anyone could be a leader in their community. To assume that title, one must make a significant impact, whether with a population or an issue. Unity is important, especially in a city or town. Community leaders are dedicated to a cause and work to gather people together under one, common goal. They don’t just talk. They take action through service and motivate others to share the vision and join along. Even as a student, I consider myself a community leader because of the impact I’ve made on the lives of those in my school and area through volunteerism and various projects. Organizing a Voter Registration Drive at my high school—a place that is critical to all teenagers’ identity—connected students under a unifying cause and engaged them in the civic process. That in itself makes me a leader: sharing my vision of and dedication to an issue and inspiring students to move toward that objective. Teachers inspire the next generation to pursue their dreams and aspirations. They unite students by sparking ideas in the classroom and working together toward a common outcome. As community participation and resources increase over time, leaders are able to make a larger and more effective impact. This is how movements are created and ideas come to fruition. The most important quality in a leader is humility. Effective leaders are those who are decisive and compelling, but modest as well. Humility does not suggest that one is insecure or weak; it means that they have the confidence and self awareness to recognize the merit of other ideas without feeling threatened. Effective leaders are willing to acknowledge their own mistakes and give credit where credit is due. My responsibilities as Secretary and President of Young Democrats allowed me to discover these leadership qualities in myself. Organizing voter registration drives, soliciting speaking engagements from candidates, and encouraging members to take part in community volunteer opportunities required the assistance of others. As a leader, I did not feel weak asking for help. I wanted to motivate the club members to be a part in decision making processes and encourage them to share perspectives that they were passionate about. As the Program Chair for the Scottsdale Mayor’s Youth Council, I heard other members’ perspectives and gave them equal validity with my own proposals. I learned that a “marble cake” of ideas, rather than an executive decision, creates more successful outcomes. By listening to and considering a variety of ideas, leaders are able to inspire others to pursue their passions and aspirations, and eventually work to assume the role of a leader themselves. This also provides an opportunity for leaders to broaden their own perspectives and identify areas they may not have previously considered.

"He just gets more silly every time I see him." That's what most people say when they see Murphy. Murphy is a 6 year-old Basset Hound rescue that my family and I have had since he was a few months old. When he's not asleep, Murphy manages an inventory of socks in the backyard and every so often he comes inside with a wet, dirty sock. He loves to wrestle in the grass with his best friend, Saki, a black lab. His legs are a little too stubby to swim, but he loves his lifejacket for Arizona summer pool time.

When one imagines a community leader, they often think of those in elevated positions such as the mayor, city officials, or businesspeople. Those people have the power and resources to make vast influences in a community. In my mind, anyone could be a leader in their community. To assume that title, one must make a significant impact, whether with a population or an issue. Unity is important, especially in a city or town. Community leaders are dedicated to a cause and work to gather people together under one, common goal. They don’t just talk. They take action through service and motivate others to share the vision and join along. Even as a student, I consider myself a community leader because of the impact I’ve made on the lives of those in my school and area through volunteerism and various projects. Organizing a Voter Registration Drive at my high school—a place that is critical to all teenagers’ identity—connected students under a unifying cause and engaged them in the civic process. That in itself makes me a leader: sharing my vision of and dedication to an issue and inspiring students to move toward that objective. Teachers inspire the next generation to pursue their dreams and aspirations. They unite students by sparking ideas in the classroom and working together toward a common outcome. As community participation and resources increase over time, leaders are able to make a larger and more effective impact. This is how movements are created and ideas come to fruition. The most important quality in a leader is humility. Effective leaders are those who are decisive and compelling, but modest as well. Humility does not suggest that one is insecure or weak; it means that they have the confidence and self awareness to recognize the merit of other ideas without feeling threatened. Effective leaders are willing to acknowledge their own mistakes and give credit where credit is due. My responsibilities as Secretary and President of Young Democrats allowed me to discover these leadership qualities in myself. Organizing voter registration drives, soliciting speaking engagements from candidates, and encouraging members to take part in community volunteer opportunities required the assistance of others. As a leader, I did not feel weak asking for help. I wanted to motivate the club members to be a part in decision making processes and encourage them to share perspectives that they were passionate about. As the Program Chair for the Scottsdale Mayor’s Youth Council, I heard other members’ perspectives and gave them equal validity with my own proposals. I learned that a “marble cake” of ideas, rather than an executive decision, creates more successful outcomes. By listening to and considering a variety of ideas, leaders are able to inspire others to pursue their passions and aspirations, and eventually work to assume the role of a leader themselves. This also provides an opportunity for leaders to broaden their own perspectives and identify areas they may not have previously considered.