Like a noose around my neck, just three feet above me, dangled a vile symbol of hatred—a swastika. As if in a wide-awake nightmare, inexplicably ripped out of the comfort of my home and supportive community, I found myself surrounded by barbed wire, U-boats, and copies of Mein Kampf. As a ten-year-old Jewish child who had just relocated to South Carolina, I felt suffocated and powerless. However, from my seat in seventh-grade World History class, I looked up at past student artwork from the World War II unit that “decorated” the ceiling with overt antisemitic symbolism. That was the first time I felt ashamed and afraid to share my Jewish identity. My self-imposed silence was equally as painful. I felt lost and alone and wondered how to handle these challenges. Only months before, living in the suburbs of New York City, I never experienced antisemitism in such a profound way. Sheltered and protected from it, I barely knew antisemitism existed. Likewise, I rarely thought about the injustices that others must confront daily simply due to things out of their control: gender, race, ethnicity, religion, or sexual orientation. Little did I know that this experience would transform me and teach me one of the most formative lessons of my life. The confusion and pain I felt from stifling my Jewish identity helped me to figure out who I truly was. Not simply as a Jew, but as an advocate for others feeling the same fear, pain, and isolation. Rather than yielding to others, hoping for acceptance and understanding, I decided it was time to stand up for myself, my culture, and others. No longer willing to hide or shrink away, I boldly embraced my Jewish heritage and, along the way, found a path to personal growth and empowerment. In the coming months and years, I actively advocated for my community. Joining the Charleston Mayor’s Youth Commission in ninth grade, I advocated for teenagers struggling with feelings of isolation during COVID-19. As part of the Commission, I focused on governmental and political issues with particular attention to minority communities who remain underrepresented despite their impact on modern-day Charleston. Reinforcing my interest in the democratic tenet of equal representation, my experience at Palmetto Boys State refined my understanding of being an influential and effective leader and standing up for what is right. To foster understanding and appreciation of Jewish culture, I co-founded a club bringing together high school students of various religious backgrounds. Garnering the support of local rabbis and sponsorships from national organizations, we organized numerous community activities to promote interreligious harmony. This experience led me to be nominated for advocacy work in Washington, D.C., where I met with my state’s representatives and senators to discuss issues including criminal justice, abortion rights, and gun control. My journey from New York to South Carolina was laden with challenges that tested my inner strength. Through these experiences, I’ve learned that those who have the power to stop evil—yet choose to do nothing—are as guilty as those who create evil themselves. Embracing my identity and becoming actively involved in making a positive impact allowed me to find strength within myself. I realized that my long but meaningful journey taught me empathy and compassion, an intolerance for hatred, and a courage founded in the backing of my community. As I embark on this next chapter of my life, I do so with the confidence to continue to be a voice for the voiceless and stand up to challenges with a relentless determination and a belief in the power of advocacy and resilience.