I think I've always been a bit of an outcast–a black sheep, per se. I have had far too many weird quirks about me that have caused people to bat an eye or raise a brow in my direction. One of the most "awkward" and obtrusive bits about me though is my Celiac Disease diagnosis. This means I cannot eat anything with wheat, gluten, rye, barley, oats, or malt–just to name a few. Now, many people think being on a gluten-free diet is just a fad or a trend. What these people don't know is that if I consume too much of these ingredients, my intestines will slowly deteriorate, leading to a handful of other health conditions. Not to mention, it can be deadly if I were to never stick to a strict gluten-free diet. This disease has made me stand out significantly since I was diagnosed. In addition, it’s made me realize just how much of our social lives as human beings revolve around food. School lunches and class parties? I have to bring my own food every time. Staff meetings at work? I either sit and wait while everyone prepares their free lunch or bring my own snacks. Outings with friends or family? I either choose not to attend or suggest a place that isn’t a restaurant. It’s made life very difficult. The times I have chosen to trust a restaurant that claimed to be gluten-free, something was still contaminated, and I got sick. In simple terms: it sucks. However, having this condition has aided me in my understanding of others who have similar problems, like food allergies. I’ve come to understand cross contamination to a tee and explain it to others who do not understand. One time in elementary school, my parents and I had to give a presentation to most of the staff about my condition so they could understand it and accommodate my needs. This in itself has offered me the ability to educate others on my condition, so when they meet someone in the future like me, they will understand and know what to do. I've had several of my teachers even inform me of this and thank me for it. Though this condition most certainly has its cons, I’ve learned to live with it and make the most of what it has to offer. I can now use my knowledge of how this disease functions and apply it to others with the same or similar conditions to help and educate them. However much this condition may negatively impact my life, it may just be a blessing in disguise in so many aspects.

I have always had an immense interest with history, specifically in terms of authoritarian regimes and dictatorships. I am drawn to learning about corrupt regimes and historical figures that have committed terrible acts against humanity so I can learn and discover how to make sure such crimes are never repeated. I believe that we do not teach enough history and do not encourage it like we should. So many kids and teens find history boring, which never fails to amaze me that they are not just engrossed with curiosity for such things. Having this curiosity and awareness about such topics helps me notice patterns and red flags within political figures and government, but it also offers an open-minded viewpoint about the differences in the way we live our lives. I believe that this is such an important step that must be taken for us as human beings. If we are not aware and openly thinking from all angles, we get into a habit of not taking government and politics seriously when it comes to the present. There are reasons that history repeats itself: it's because the majority remain complacent. Having an open mind is a vital step toward understanding and properly learning history. For example, there are countless varying cultures around the world, and we as humans have a hard time accepting change and anything that may be foreign to our everyday lives. Having an understanding of history and a respect for cultures outside of our own is vital for our species' survival and flourishment. If we as human beings want, not only to survive, but to live, we must learn to respect each other's distinct and varying cultures and beliefs. In my own personal experience with being a member of the LGBTQ+ community, I am quite familiar with corrupt governments and regimes frequently targeting my community. Their agendas do not offer a helping hand to those who have long been ridiculed and rejected--our community is just too easily weaponized. It gets a reaction from people, which is exactly what tyrannical leaders want: obtrusive uproar and attention. I want to be the influence that motivates people to do their research and open their minds to learn the history of these oppressive regimes. I want to help people grow and face the truths about what they may be supporting without even realizing. Modern day politics and government is treated much differently than it was 15 or 20 years ago; the Internet and use of artificial intelligence have made knowing who or what is real significantly more difficult. However, if we study history, we can make monumental changes and a difference in our political environments. We can fight against and be wary of oppressive forces because we know what the beginning of corrupt and tyrannical regimes and/or leaders may look like. Overall, we will be a safer and more in-tune society.

Movies have been an outlet for me in processing grief. I've found myself watching countless films on loss, tragedy, and death, searching for comfort and the idea that someone else was going through the exact same situation that I was. I didn't realize that I had failed to process the death of my grandfather until 10 years after–but how can you expect an 8-year-old to know how to grieve? As the years passed, I was able to recognize that I missed him–of course, how couldn't I? I would cry every year on his death date, March 6th. Grandparents' Day was always rough and being forced to make cards for grandparents that I didn't even have was not helping me to get through it. Though it wasn't until 15 rolled around, and I had to start learning to drive that it really began to hit me. I couldn't sit in the driver's seat without shaking, flashes of the crash passing through my mind so vividly it felt like I was hearing about the tragedy all over again. I couldn't trust myself behind that wheel, constantly terrified that I was going to hurt myself or someone else. I didn't want someone to grieve a loved one like I grieved for my grandpa. That's why watching Disney's and Pixar's Coco has been a healing experience for me in dealing with this immense grief. I never fail to cry every time I watch it, and don't even get me started on the song "Remember Me." It may seem funny that a children's animation film can hit so close to home, but seeing Miguel with his Mama Coco, hearing them sing "Remember Me" together...it's scenes like these that heal a part of me each and every time I watch them. Not only does Miguel's love for his great-grandmother bring me to tears, but Mama Coco's love for her father gives way for those tears to fall. The entire movie's premise being about love, grief, and remembrance feels like my life journey with grief wrapped into an hour and a half. The representation of the afterlife in the movie is very dear to me; the idea of remembrance being the driving force carrying your loved one's memory is terrifying yet beautiful. As a sentimental individual, I don't think I could ever forget my grandpa's love and protection. I could never forget his hearty laugh, his big bear hugs, or his orneriness. He's too unique of an individual to be forgotten so easily. I like to imagine that my memory of him has his spirit shining with a golden, steady light, never to flicker or be snuffed out. Like the song in Coco says, "Remember me, though I have to say goodbye, remember me, don't let it make you cry…Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be. Until you're in my arms again, remember me."

Writing for the underdog has been a theme throughout my childhood and adolescence. Though as I've grown, my connection to and understanding of the black sheep in the world have only blossomed as I've come to terms with my own sexuality. Suddenly, the characters I wrote about in my stories when I was a child made more sense to me – their uniqueness and differences were a reflection of myself, whether I realized it or not. I was always acutely aware of the fact I was different, and the impacts of being queer made it hard to find spaces I could safely fit in with. Making friends – real friends – was a struggle on its own. It felt impossible to find people in my small rural town that were like me – or ones that at least weren't dismissive or intolerant of my queerness. I spent numerous years feeling incredibly isolated because of my identity, especially as I began to struggle with identifying my gender expression. I became so focused on these labels and how other people would perceive me that I became this being discerned with what I am and why, rather than who. I couldn’t seem to escape from the grasp that finding a perfect label had on me – and it was deteriorating my true sense of self. Writing was an outlet for my anxious mind. I wrote all kinds of stories, but they never failed to have one thing in common: a black sheep. Whether it be a disability, oppression, problems with physical or mental health, or personal identity, every one of my stories held a home for the black sheep. This is, and has always been, the driving force for me to continue writing. I want nothing more than for someone to read a story I wrote and think, “Hey! That’s me!” I want people who do not often feel seen or represented in forms of media to feel just the opposite when they indulge in my writing. I’ve found it difficult for myself to read books that I cannot find a part of myself in, in one way or another, and I know how important it is to read a book and be able to identify with it so deeply. I feel that is the beauty of literature and writing: to make others feel seen and represented, or to become a voice for those who feel they do not have one.