As an art history major and a native of China, I strongly believe that art is inherently political and plays a fundamental role against government censorship. As US Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart once said, “Censorship reflects a society’s lack of confidence in itself.” Perhaps the most prominent Chinese artist who has openly criticized the Chinese government regarding its views on democracy and human rights is Ai Weiwei, but there are many others like him who have been persecuted by the Chinese government, forbidden to leave China, or gone into self-imposed exile. I remember seeing contemporary Chinese performance artist and painter Sheng Qi’s My Left Hand (2000) at a museum one summer during college. Upon reading the caption, I recall feeling a multitude of emotions: disgust, squeamishness, anger, and finally, sorrow. The work depicts Sheng Qi’s hand without its pinky finger, which Sheng cut off in protest following the Tiananmen Square Massacre of 1989. He buried the finger in a porcelain flowerpot in Beijing and went into self-imposed exile in Europe, leaving the finger so that his “soul would remain rooted in China” while his body was afar. The second time I felt similar emotions was the summer of 2024, when I visited the M+ Museum in Hong Kong. Despite Hong Kong being a special administrative region of China, the museum is extremely critical of the Chinese government. I recall my grandmother, who was born in 1946 and experienced the height of Mao, was shocked at the blatant “disrespect.” One particular exhibition stood out to me—Old People’s Home (2007) by Peng Yu and Sun Yuan. The piece features thirteen hyper-realistic kinetic sculptures of old, frail men in motorized wheelchairs. Every hour, the exhibition is turned on, and the motorized wheelchairs roam around slowly, bumping into each other like bumper cars. Despite not naming a single specific individual, the men closely resemble known world leaders, dictators (I distinctly recall seeing a sculpture who suspiciously looked like Fidel Castro), generals, and religious leaders. The work strips these powerful men of their power, leaving them drooling and incapacitated. My first reaction was shock: I couldn’t believe that the People’s Republic would allow something like this to exist, even in Hong Kong. I suppose that it is allowed because it is a critique of global power as opposed to a single attack on a specific administration. Artists such as Peng Yu and Sun Yuan maintain just on the cusp of the politically-correct line, while others such as Sheng Qi and Ai Weiwei have crossed it. Regardless, these artists are doing incredibly important work by being political activists. These types of creative expression give Chinese audiences a space for public engagement and a way to shock people out of their political apathy. By using methods that dance around strict censorship laws, artists allow people to hear raw, untarnished narratives about state power, history, and social struggles, giving a voice to the voiceless. In the words of Ai Weiwei, “an artist must be an activist.”

My mom’s graduation from college was one of my childhood’s happiest memories. As a first-generation immigrant and child of a low-income, single mother, I believed that my mom’s academic success wasn’t just inspiring — it was essential to our livelihood. I had an early introduction to the world of higher education. In sixth grade, my mom began her degree, and every week for the next three and a half years, my mom and I made the trek to her evening classes. On the weekends, we unfailingly sat at our kitchen table, delving over academic journals. As I grew older, I helped edit her papers and gave feedback for her presentations. All of these moments drove my passion for research and learning. However, even as a child, I recognized a disconnect between what my mom studied and the realities we faced. The majority of the literature she engaged with focused on WEIRD (White, Educated, Industrialized, Rich, and Democratic) populations, ignoring the lived realities of people like us — immigrants, first-generation students, and low-income families. That realization sparked an enduring interest in how policy, law, and institutional design can either reinforce or dismantle inequities in access to education. Pursuing a JD/MBA program will allow me to address these issues from both a legal and business perspective. I am interested in studying law because it will give me the legal knowledge to advocate for fairer education policies, navigate regulatory frameworks, and support legislation that promotes equity in access. The MBA will strengthen my ability to lead within complex institutions—understanding how policy is implemented on the ground and how data-driven management can make reform sustainable. Both will be critical in my career goal, which is to serve as legal counsel to the education sector of the government, an education organization, or a university or school system. On the government level, having a law degree provides the legal expertise needed to interpret and draft education legislation; in addition, the MBA would allow me to understand the impact on an organizational and human level. I am excited to combine my legal acumen with management insight to make sure that education institutions are complying with federal and state legislation. My MBA training will also provide the ability to evaluate the efficacy of policy outcomes so that I can craft reforms that are legally sound and financially sustainable. Critically, there are areas that can be improved in our education system in terms of student loan reform, special education, and school funding equity, just to name a few. As counsel, I could help draft or interpret legislation on these topics while analyzing the fiscal implications of such reforms. Regarding working in an educational organization, university, or school district, a law degree would allow me to advocate for equitable funding and access, while an MBA could help me support the sustainability and scalability of programs. A law background would equip me with the ability to handle matters such as contracts, student rights, and compliance, while the MBA background could offer insight into university/school operations. I believe the JD/MBA is the right program for me because it bridges law, policy, and management, three critical factors that shape our education system. I am eager to grow my knowledge of legal advocacy and organizational strategy, advising and shaping educational institutions.