Hi, my name is Kaleb and I'm a third-year university student-athlete studying math and computer science. As I now attend the "most rigorous" institution in the States, convincing my family of the value of college athletics was rough, and understandably so. My parents immigrated from Ethiopia during the Derg Regime, and have built their lives in California from nothing with one goal: to give their children a better life. Now that I have the opportunity to attend a prestigious institution, they saw 20 hours/week of athletics as a potential detriment to my education but still chose to support my decision. Now, in the middle of my third season, I've come to realize the benefits outweigh the perceived time sink that is college sports: it keeps me in shape, boosts my mental health, distracts me from the stress of classes, and most of all allows me to continue playing the sport I love at a high level. Like every other kid who had dreams of becoming a professional athlete, soccer has always been an unwavering passion of mine, but I always knew school was to be prioritized. A question I always asked myself as a kid: what am I going to be when I grow up? “He’s gonna be a doctor,” my mom told everyone at a family reunion. All my relatives agreed, convinced that they “saw” my cardiologist uncle or my hepatologist aunt within me. The epitome of success in almost every Ethiopian household is to one day become an MD and to fulfill this prophecy, I almost obliged. With no formal plan for what I would pursue in college, my tentative plan to become a neurosurgeon, which lasted 18 years, almost came to fruition. That was until I found my answer. Math has always been my favorite subject in school, from memorizing the multiplication table in 2nd grade to learning algebra in middle school to calculus and beyond. However, the sentiment toward a career in academia was rather negative in my household, so my family simply viewed my passion for math as an indicator of academic inclination rather than a harbinger of my future career. In hindsight, I understand that it, indeed, was something deeper. So, upon learning my first programming language as a senior, I realized that my mathematical intuition was useful, almost necessitated, in solving coding problems. When solving these problems became an addiction, I knew what career I would pursue. A degree in mathematics and computer science will help me develop into a global problem solver and inspire those in my community to chase their dreams, rather than conform to someone else’s.

As a first-generation Ethiopian-American, I’ve had the privilege of growing up around two distinct cultures. While I am glad that my parents immigrated to the United States in search of opportunity, I continue to take pride in understanding and connecting with my Ethiopian culture. Ethiopia is home to over ninety ethnic groups and for the most part, these groups have coexisted peacefully and embraced diversity. However, ethnic conflict in the motherland, which has been ongoing for decades on a much smaller scale, has significantly intensified within the last year. Months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest and panic, and are the causes of social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. When this issue arose, I was in a small, exclusive discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, all Ethiopian. However, given the turmoil, we decided to open the server to the public. This way, we could host respectful and informative discussions with the hopes of reinstating unity within the Ethiopian community and easing people’s social anxiety and depression (especially teenagers) amidst an intense quarantine period. As one of the administrators, I propelled the server's growth through social media promotion, and it filled me with joy to see active voice chats and text channels having discussions about politics, religion, and everyday life. Habesha Connect has since evolved into African Connect, which at its peak boasted over 10,000 users. We decided to expand the server, which opened lines of communication between the global diaspora of other African nations. Although activities in the server had no direct impact on Ethiopian government affairs, creating an understanding between different groups of people undoubtedly strengthened the worldwide community of the Ethiopian diaspora, which helped me discover my passion for my homeland. I am certain that I will apply my future profession to help Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my college experience to bring my community a step closer to unity. Before college, I did whatever I could for the Ethiopian diaspora, whether it be starting a food drive at my church during the height of COVID-19 or creating the Discord server for the worldwide Ethiopian diaspora to be connected. However, Ethiopia itself is in a civil war, with very little coverage by Western media, and scant humanitarian aid. I seek to dedicate my life to improving the living situation of Ethiopian citizens in any way possible, and due to the world’s negligence, this responsibility weighs even heavier on all Ethiopians, a duty which I will continue to heed.

A question I always asked myself as a kid: what am I going to be when I grow up? “He’s gonna be a doctor,” my mom told everyone at a family reunion. All my relatives agreed, convinced that they “saw” my cardiologist uncle or my hepatologist aunt within me. The epitome of success in almost every Ethiopian household is to one day become an MD and to fulfill this prophecy, I almost obliged. With no formal plan for what I would pursue in college, my tentative plan to become a neurosurgeon, which lasted 18 years, almost came to fruition. That was until I found my answer. Math has always been my favorite subject in school, from memorizing the multiplication table in 2nd grade to learning algebra in middle school to calculus and beyond. However, the sentiment toward a career in academia was rather negative in my household, so my family simply viewed my passion for math as an indicator of academic inclination rather than a harbinger of my future career. So, upon learning my first programming language as a senior in high school, I realized that my mathematical intuition was useful, almost necessitated, in solving problems with code. When solving these problems became an addiction, I knew what career I would pursue. A degree in mathematics and computer science will help me develop into a global problem solver and inspire those in my community to chase their dreams, rather than conform to someone else’s. Immediately post-graduation, I foresee myself either delving into an early career in software engineering, or finance or pursuing further education through a master's program. In particular, as a lifetime soccer player (I currently play NCAA soccer for my school) and avid childhood gamer, I've dreamt of working as a software engineer at a company like EA Sports. However, my aspirations in life transcend the allure of big tech or Wall Street; they are deeply rooted in the soil of Ethiopia. Before college, I did whatever I could for the Ethiopian diaspora, whether it be starting a food drive at my church during the height of COVID-19 or creating the Discord server for the worldwide Ethiopian diaspora to be connected. However, Ethiopia itself is in a civil war, with very little coverage by Western media, and scant humanitarian aid. I seek to dedicate my life to improving the living situation of Ethiopian citizens in any way possible, and due to the world’s negligence, this responsibility weighs even heavier on all Ethiopians, a duty which I will continue to heed. As a student who has accrued over $100k in college debt and concurrently works multiple summer jobs (2 software engineering internships and a clerk job at a college dormitory) to contribute to my family's mortgage, I believe that the scholarship would alleviate many enduring pressures from my personal life and allow me to focus on what I love to do; learn, to hopefully expedite my ability to leverage my learning in helping others.

A question I always asked myself as a kid: what am I going to be when I grow up? “He’s gonna be a doctor,” my mom told everyone at a family reunion. All my relatives agreed, convinced that they “saw” my cardiologist uncle or my hepatologist aunt within me. The epitome of success in almost every Ethiopian household is to one day become an MD and to fulfill this prophecy, I almost obliged. With no formal plan for what I would pursue in college, my tentative plan to become a neurosurgeon, which lasted 18 years, almost came to fruition. That was until I found my answer. Math has always been my favorite subject in school, from memorizing the multiplication table in 2nd grade to learning algebra in middle school to calculus and beyond. However, the sentiment toward a career in academia was rather negative in my household, so my family simply viewed my passion for math as an indicator of academic inclination rather than a harbinger of my future career. So, upon learning my first programming language as a senior in high school, I realized that my mathematical intuition was useful, almost necessitated, in solving problems with code. When solving these problems became an addiction, I knew what career I would pursue. A degree in mathematics and computer science will help me develop into a global problem solver and inspire those in my community to chase their dreams, rather than conform to someone else’s. Given my converged interest in math and computer science, my favorite project is my recent participation in the Harvard Undergraduate Trading Competition, where my team and I won 1st place. A year ago, I had no background in quantitative finance and despite this, was able to leverage my programming skills to develop a tool that played a crucial role in our victory. In a dynamic market, I knew that subjective biases and emotions could influence bad trades. So, while most other teams were trading via intuition and mental math, I wrote a script for each of the four markets/games that we traded on, to take in real-time market information (which includes probabilities and prices of various tickers) and output the expected values of each contract. This tool helped us make informed, unbiased decisions based on expected values and probabilities of various outcomes. This optimized trading strategy led us to place in the top 3 for two of the four markets, ultimately making us the team with the most consistent portfolio. Working with technology, especially in this competition, has been incredibly inspiring, as it highlighted how a solid foundation in programming and analytical thinking can be applied to solve complex problems in diverse fields, including challenging and unfamiliar industries like quantitative finance. A little curiosity and drive can go a long way: brief lessons on market-making and some probability coursework carried me far less than my desire to attend, participate, and learn. To those striving for success in their careers or academic pursuits, I implore you to be ambitious, embrace the unknown, and allow your passion for learning to steer the way.

As a first-generation Ethiopian-American, I’ve had the privilege of growing up around two distinct cultures. While I am glad that my parents immigrated to the United States in search of opportunity, I continue to take pride in understanding and connecting with my Ethiopian culture. Ethiopia is home to over ninety ethnic groups and for the most part, these groups have coexisted peacefully and embraced diversity. However, ethnic conflict in the motherland, which has been ongoing for decades on a much smaller scale, has significantly intensified within the last year. Months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest and panic, and are the causes of social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. When this issue arose, I was in a small, exclusive discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, all Ethiopian. However, given the turmoil, we decided to open the server to the public. This way, we could host respectful and informative discussions with the hopes of reinstating unity within the Ethiopian community and easing people’s social anxiety and depression (especially teenagers) amidst an intense quarantine period. As one of the administrators, I propelled the server's growth through social media promotion, and it filled me with joy to see active voice chats and text channels having discussions about politics, religion, and everyday life. Habesha Connect has since evolved into African Connect, which at its peak boasted over 10,000 users. We decided to expand the server, which opened lines of communication between the global diaspora of other African nations. Although activities in the server had no direct impact on Ethiopian government affairs, creating an understanding between different groups of people undoubtedly strengthened the worldwide community of the Ethiopian diaspora, which helped me discover my passion for my homeland. I am certain that I will apply my future profession to help Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my college experience to bring my community a step closer to unity. Immediately post-graduation, I foresee myself either delving into an early career in software engineering, or finance or pursuing further education through a master's program. In particular, as a lifetime soccer player (I currently play NCAA soccer for my school) and avid childhood gamer, I've dreamt of working as a software engineer at a company like EA Sports. However, my aspirations in life transcend the allure of big tech or Wall Street; they are deeply rooted in the soil of Ethiopia. Before college, I did whatever I could for the Ethiopian diaspora, whether it be starting a food drive at my church during the height of COVID-19 or creating the Discord server for the worldwide Ethiopian diaspora to be connected. However, Ethiopia itself is in a civil war, with very little coverage by Western media, and scant humanitarian aid. I seek to dedicate my life to improving the living situation of Ethiopian citizens in any way possible, and due to the world’s negligence, this responsibility weighs even heavier on all Ethiopians, a duty which I will continue to heed.

A question I always asked myself as a kid: what am I going to be when I grow up? “He’s gonna be a doctor,” my mom told everyone at a family reunion. All my relatives agreed, convinced that they “saw” my cardiologist uncle or my hepatologist aunt within me. The epitome of success in almost every Ethiopian household is to one day become an MD and to fulfill this prophecy, I almost obliged. With no formal plan for what I would pursue in college, my tentative plan to become a neurosurgeon, which lasted 18 years, almost came to fruition. That was until I found my answer. Math has always been my favorite subject in school, from memorizing the multiplication table in 2nd grade to learning algebra in middle school to calculus and beyond. However, the sentiment toward a career in academia was rather negative in my household, so my family simply viewed my passion for math as an indicator of academic inclination rather than a harbinger of my future career. So, upon learning my first programming language as a senior in high school, I realized that my mathematical intuition was useful, almost necessitated, in solving problems with code. When solving these problems became an addiction, I knew what career I would pursue. A degree in mathematics and computer science will help me develop into a global problem solver and inspire those in my community to chase their dreams, rather than conform to someone else’s. Immediately post-graduation, I foresee myself either delving into an early career in software engineering, or finance or pursuing further education through a master's program. In particular, as a lifetime soccer player (I currently play NCAA soccer for my school) and avid childhood gamer, I've dreamt of working as a software engineer at a company like EA Sports. However, my aspirations in life transcend the allure of big tech or Wall Street; they are deeply rooted in the soil of Ethiopia. Before college, I did whatever I could for the Ethiopian diaspora, whether it be starting a food drive at my church during the height of COVID-19 or creating the Discord server for the worldwide Ethiopian diaspora to be connected. However, Ethiopia itself is in a civil war, with very little coverage by Western media, and scant humanitarian aid. I seek to dedicate my life to improving the living situation of Ethiopian citizens in any way possible, and due to the world’s negligence, this responsibility weighs even heavier on all Ethiopians, a duty which I will continue to heed. As a student who has accrued over $100k in college debt and concurrently works multiple summer jobs (2 software engineering internships and a clerk job at a college dormitory) to contribute to my family's mortgage, I believe that the scholarship would alleviate many enduring pressures from my personal life and allow me to focus on what I love to do; learn, to hopefully expedite my ability to leverage my learning in helping others.

As a first-generation Ethiopian-American, I’ve had the privilege of growing up around two distinct cultures. While I am glad that my parents immigrated to the United States in search of opportunity, I continue to take pride in understanding and connecting with my Ethiopian culture, all the while navigating my identity as a black American. Ethiopia is home to over ninety ethnic groups and for the most part, these groups have coexisted peacefully and embraced diversity. However, ethnic conflict in the motherland, which has been ongoing for decades on a much smaller scale, has significantly intensified within the last year. Months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest and panic, and are the causes of social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. When this issue arose, I was in a small, exclusive discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, all Ethiopian. However, given the turmoil, we decided to open the server to the public. This way, we could host respectful and informative discussions with the hopes of reinstating unity within the Ethiopian community and easing people’s social anxiety and depression (especially teenagers) amidst an intense quarantine period. As one of the administrators, I propelled the server's growth through social media promotion, and it filled me with joy to see active voice chats and text channels discussing politics, religion, and everyday life. Habesha Connect has since evolved into African Connect, which at its peak boasted over 10,000 users. We decided to expand the server, which opened lines of communication between the global diaspora of other African nations. Although activities in the server had no direct impact on Ethiopian government affairs, creating an understanding between different groups of people undoubtedly strengthened the worldwide community of the Ethiopian diaspora, which helped me discover my passion for my homeland. I am certain that I will apply my future profession to help Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my college experience to bring my community closer to unity. Now that I am a college student, I've made an effort to connect with black Bostonians: whether that be as an active member of MIT's EESA (Ethiopian-Eritrean Student Association), or traveling to north Cambridge every Sunday to play pickup soccer with Ethiopians of the town. I also spent my freshman spring as an undergraduate researcher/teaching assistant for the MIT Data Activism program: a semester-long initiative by the MIT Media Lab to teach local high school students how to program and utilize data science to combat systemic racism. As the program targets high schoolers belonging to underrepresented minorities, the projects (such as data analysis on pollution and redlining) are hard-hitting realities for many students. I was elated to lead a group of high schoolers in a quantitative analysis of community food insecurity in collaboration with Massachusetts-based nonprofit Food Link, which concluded with a symposium of students presenting their data/findings. As a member of 2 different black communities, I take immense pride in leveraging the opportunities afforded to me as a student of a prestigious institution. I've attempted to use it in addressing disparities that exist within the black community: whether that be Ethiopian or American.

Fresh out of my first year of high school, my friends and I were excited, looking forward to attending a STEM program at Stanford: the Stanford. After making it through the first parts of the application process, all that was left for the 10 of us were to be interviewed, and then voilà, we’d be spending the summer in Stanford’s dorms. As we made the hour-long drive from San Jose to Oakland, each one of us were elated as if our spots in the program were guaranteed. So, when I received the rejection email a few weeks later, any confidence I’d built from breezing through the first portions of the application was thrown out the window. My parents were disappointed in a passive-aggressive kind of way: my mom smiling and laughing on the phone with my friends’ (who got in) parents, and then abruptly returning to her somber mood once she got off the line; my dad giving me the closest thing to silent treatment for the next few days. It was humiliating, to say the least, even though my parents forgot about it after 48 hours. However, I didn’t. This humiliation led me on an attempt to compensate for my perceived failure, by enrolling in a summer course at my local community college, which would get me another year ahead in math. 4 hours of class and 4 hours of homework every day felt like a fall from grace, but it taught me discipline, independence, and perseverance, all of which were absent traits in my 9th-grade self. After 6 weeks of intense studying and hard work, my efforts were merely enough to earn a B, which was a first, and stung even more than my getting rejected from the program: another failure. But I had no time to cry, it was on to the next challenge: calculus. It was a course considered to be one of the hardest offered at my school, and the teacher of this class was notorious for being a harsh grader. I walked into his room on the first day and realized I was already behind since the preceding class already reviewed the first two units of calculus the year prior. However, catching up seemed relatively easy, especially compared to the summer course. Taking precalculus that summer was like completing weeks of pre-season conditioning, which prepared me for the actual season, in this case, calculus. Instead of struggling to get into shape at the beginning of the season, I was already fit. The rest of my sophomore year felt like a breeze, not because the content wasn’t challenging, but because staying steady-minded with a goal in mind for the whole year didn’t take anywhere near as much mental willpower as it would have before. This isn’t meant to be a cliché “hard work leads to success” story; rather, one where I analyze a turning point in my life. For the 14-15 years I’d lived thus far, my motivation to do practically anything was to evade the wrath of my parents and to uphold my reputation as a “good kid”. This reasoning meant doing the bare minimum to get by, without any oomph or any passion. This lack of conviction is what let me down when I applied to the aforementioned program, and even when I took the summer course. It took spending hours upon hours, weeks upon weeks alone without my parents heckling to discover my own oomph, my purpose. These “failures” sparked an epiphany, that they weren’t actually failures, but lessons that saved me from a ton of future heartbreak.

As a first-generation Ethiopian-American, I’ve had the privilege of growing up around two distinct cultures. While I am glad that my parents immigrated to the United States in search of opportunity, I continue to take pride in understanding and connecting with my Ethiopian culture. Ethiopia is home to over ninety ethnic groups and for the most part, these groups have coexisted peacefully and embraced diversity. However, ethnic conflict in the motherland, which has been ongoing for decades on a much smaller scale, has significantly intensified within the last year. Months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest and panic, and are the causes of social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. When this issue arose, I was in a small, exclusive discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, all Ethiopian. However, given the turmoil, we decided to open the server to the public. This way, we could host respectful and informative discussions with the hopes of reinstating unity within the Ethiopian community and easing people’s social anxiety and depression (especially teenagers) amidst an intense quarantine period. As one of the administrators, I propelled the server's growth through social media promotion, and it filled me with joy to see active voice chats and text channels having discussions about politics, religion, and everyday life. Habesha Connect has since evolved into African Connect, which at its peak boasted over 10,000 users. We decided to expand the server, which opened lines of communication between the global diaspora of other African nations. Although activities in the server had no direct impact on Ethiopian government affairs, creating an understanding between different groups of people undoubtedly strengthened the worldwide community of the Ethiopian diaspora, which helped me discover my passion for my homeland. I am certain that I will apply my future profession to help Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my college experience to bring my community a step closer to unity.

Until reading The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander, I never fully comprehended the injustices people of color continue to face, even in the post-segregation era. Alexander, the director of the ACLU’s Racial Justice Project, delivers a nuanced narration along with alarming statistics that forces readers to ponder the existence of systemic racism. Leading a conversation about systemic racism, for any reason whatsoever, seems to cause heated debate, which has recently been the source of political polarization and boiling racial tensions. While racial tensions in the United States have been addressed with social activism, ethnic tensions in Ethiopia were being addressed with violence, taking a heavy toll on the mental health of the Ethiopian diaspora (I first noticed this at home) and the well-being of thousands of native Ethiopians. Recent months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest in Ethiopia, leading to social divisiveness between ethnic groups. As a result, many have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. In a realm of speculation and baseless accusations, my friends and I felt obligated to do our due diligence and were inspired to combat dishonest media. So, we created Habesha Connect: a Discord server that fosters informative discussion amongst global Ethiopian diaspora. The server, containing 10,000 members at its peak, hosts progressive discourse about politics, religion, and everyday life in an effort to reinstate unity between Ethiopia’s 80+ ethnic groups. Habesha Connect has since evolved into African Connect, opening lines of communication between the global diaspora of all African nations. I am certain that I will apply my future profession to help Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my education to bring my community closer to finding unity.

Though my experience with programming thus far has been quite limited, hours spent debugging code and the feeling of bliss once a program is complete have convinced me to expand my coding horizons. However, as the child of wartime refugees who broke their backs to earn their middle-class status, I can attest to the importance of money management. A convergence of computer science, economics, and data science will allow me to pursue a computer science degree while simultaneously achieving financial literacy and a bolstered knowledge of how technology is employed to resolve everyday issues. As a first-generation American, I have held on to my Ethiopian heritage with the hope of someday passing down centuries of exuberant tradition to my children. It is this ancient culture that makes most Ethiopians very proud people, and me a proud Ethiopian. However, recent months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest and panic, and are the causes of social divisiveness between ethnicities. These current events have been my inspiration to become proactive within my community, so I started volunteering for the Ethiopian Community Services (San Jose-based nonprofit). This entails organizing communal events and contacting prospective employees and potential donors. I also facilitated a food drive at my church in partnership with the nonprofit Growing the Table to give fresh produce and dietary essentials to those in need. While not taking a leadership position in my community, I'm an active participant and learner of my family's way of life. The unique traditions, exquisite cuisine, and tightly-knit Habesha community have secured my affinity for Ethiopian culture, so much so that I'm always overzealous at the mention of a trip to the motherland, and why wouldn’t I be? Every visit, there was warm water to shower, an internet connection to keep me entertained during downtime, and purified bottled water to drink, all while being able to visit my sweet grandparents and loving family. I went from visiting historical monuments in Lalibela and kayaking at luxurious resorts in Bahir Dar to watching 3D movies at the upscale Century Mall, located in the heart of a metropolitan Addis Ababa. In an underdeveloped nation, the daily grievances of native Ethiopians were seemingly invisible due to my tourist experience, but this facade couldn't be any farther from the truth. The charity The Water Project lists numerous statistics that quantify Ethiopia’s tragic water crisis: approximately 6 in 10 Ethiopians do not have adequate access to water, and 9 in 10 people in Ethiopia lack basic sanitation. Although my immediate relatives may not suffer, these conditions affect millions of people who look just like me. By collaborating with foreign aid organizations in building water wells in the Danakil desert, establishing modern irrigation systems in remote areas, and distributing water filtration devices in Addis Ababa, I hope to be a benefactor of my people (eventually all people) and help surmount the water crisis. In short, my identity as an Ethiopian-American has not only given me a language, culture, or supportive network of family and friends: it has given me a purpose in life, and STEM will provide me with the greatest opportunity to fulfill my purpose.

As a first-generation American, I have held on to my Ethiopian heritage with the hope of someday passing down centuries of exuberant tradition to my children. It is this ancient culture that makes most Ethiopians very proud people, and me a proud Ethiopian. Recent ethnic genocide has been the source of civil unrest, violence, and social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. At the time, I was in a small, exclusive Discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, but given the ongoing turmoil, we (a group of administrators) decided to open the server to the public, promoting Habesha Connect on social media, to be inclusive to Ethiopians of all ethnicities. The server, which contained 10,000 members at its peak, hosts progressive discourse about politics, religion, and everyday life in an effort to reinstate unity between Ethiopia’s 80+ ethnic groups. From my first involvement in social activism, I learned the importance of self-research and communal discourse. These current events have been my inspiration to become proactive within my community, so I started volunteering for the Ethiopian Community Services (San Jose-based nonprofit). This entails organizing communal events and contacting prospective employees and potential donors. I also facilitated a food drive at my church in partnership with the nonprofit Growing the Table to give fresh produce and dietary essentials to those in need. While not taking a leadership position in my community, I've been an active participant and learner of my family's way of life. The unique traditions, exquisite cuisine, and tightly-knit Habesha community have secured my affinity for Ethiopian culture, so much so that I'm always overzealous at the mention of a trip to the motherland, and why wouldn’t I be? Every visit, there was warm water to shower, an internet connection to keep me entertained during downtime, and purified bottled water to drink, all while being able to visit my sweet grandparents and loving family. I went from visiting historical monuments in Lalibela and kayaking at luxurious resorts in Bahir Dar to watching 3D movies at the upscale Century Mall, located in the heart of a metropolitan Addis Ababa. In an underdeveloped nation, the daily grievances of native Ethiopians were seemingly invisible due to my tourist experience, but this facade couldn't be any farther from the truth. The charity The Water Project lists numerous statistics that quantify Ethiopia’s tragic water crisis: approximately 6 in 10 Ethiopians do not have adequate access to water, and 9 in 10 people in Ethiopia lack basic sanitation. Although my immediate relatives may not suffer, these conditions affect millions of people who look just like me. By collaborating with foreign aid organizations in building water wells in the Danakil desert, establishing modern irrigation systems in remote areas, and distributing water filtration devices in Addis Ababa, I hope to be a benefactor of my people (eventually all people) and help surmount the water crisis. In short, my identity as an Ethiopian-American has not only given me a language, culture, or supportive network of family and friends: it has given me a purpose in life.

It was supposed to be a summer to remember. Fresh out of my first year in high school, my friends and I were excited, as we were looking forward to attending a STEM program at Stanford. After making it through the first parts of the application process, all that remained was for the 10 of us to be interviewed, and then voilà, we’d be spending the summer in Stanford’s dorms. However, when opening the email from that program a week later, my excitement quickly transformed into an awkward despondency after realizing the letter was not to inform me of acceptance, but rather my rejection. My parents were disappointed in a passive-aggressive kind of way: my dad giving me the closest thing to silent treatment for the next few days; my mom pleasantly conversing on the phone with my friends’ (who got in) parents, and then abruptly returning to her somber mood once she got off the line. Their disappointment carried over to me, and although it may sound trite, this was the first time I felt inadequatenot good enough. This led me in an attempt to relieve a disappointed household by enrolling in a summer course at my local community college, which would get me another year ahead in math. 4 hours of class and 4 hours of homework four days a week sure felt like a fall from grace, but spending countless hours of my free time alone, studying and relearning concepts built discipline. Hammering away at lengthy homework assignments without the oversight of my parents built independence. However, during the final weeks of the course, I grew complacent, and the unjustified cockiness that I possessed while applying for the summer program seemed to have made a sneaky return, resulting in my grade dropping a full letter. The overzealous demeanor I possessed while studying morphed into a short-term depression, and for the first time, I was indifferent to how my parents reacted because I had failed myself. I felt that sting of personal failure as I began the next school year, determined to do things right for myself. The day I stepped into my calculus class, I could sense the collective intimidation felt by my classmates, as Mr. Ishimoto is widely known as the strictest and most challenging teacher on campus. He explained that we would be skipping over the first two chapters, as it should have been covered the year prior and in the summer homework he had assigned last year’s precalculus students: in other words, everyone else had a head start. Nonetheless, I saw this as an opportunity to show myself that I had indeed taken the lessons I had learned over the summer to heart. For the next two weeks, I spent hours, after school, with my face buried in a textbook, ironically reminiscent of the summer, only this time it felt routine. My newly learned study habits not only ensured that I would later get an A in this course, but also instilled confidence that I could handle future challenges, whatever they may be. This isn’t meant to be a cliché “hard work leads to success” story, rather, one where I analyze a turning point in my life. It took spending hours upon hours, weeks upon weeks alone without my parents' constant motivation to discover my own oomph, oomph which I carried during my sophomore year and now carry with me every day. These “failures'' sparked reformation that has equipped me with the conviction needed to find success and happiness in the different facets of my life.

It was supposed to be a summer to remember. Fresh out of my first year in high school, my friends and I were excited, as we were looking forward to attending a STEM program at Stanford. After making it through the first parts of the application process, all that remained was for the 10 of us to be interviewed, and then voilà, we’d be spending the summer in Stanford’s dorms. However, when opening the email from that program a week later, my excitement quickly transformed into an awkward despondency after realizing the letter was not to inform me of acceptance, but rather my rejection. My parents were disappointed in a passive-aggressive kind of way: my dad giving me the closest thing to silent treatment for the next few days; my mom pleasantly conversing on the phone with my friends’ (who got in) parents, and then abruptly returning to her somber mood once she got off the line. Their disappointment carried over to me, and although it may sound trite, this was the first time I felt inadequatenot good enough. This led me in an attempt to relieve a disappointed household by enrolling in a summer course at my local community college, which would get me another year ahead in math. 4 hours of class and 4 hours of homework four days a week sure felt like a fall from grace, but spending countless hours of my free time alone, studying and relearning concepts built discipline. Hammering away at lengthy homework assignments without the oversight of my parents built independence. However, during the final weeks of the course, I grew complacent, and the unjustified cockiness that I possessed while applying for the summer program seemed to have made a sneaky return, resulting in my grade dropping a full letter. The overzealous demeanor I possessed while studying morphed into a short-term depression, and for the first time, I was indifferent to how my parents reacted because I had failed myself. I felt that sting of personal failure as I began the next school year, determined to do things right for myself. The day I stepped into my calculus class, I could sense the collective intimidation felt by my classmates, as Mr. Ishimoto is widely known as the strictest and most challenging teacher on campus. He explained that we would be skipping over the first two chapters, as it should have been covered the year prior and in the summer homework he had assigned last year’s precalculus students: in other words, everyone else had a head start. Nonetheless, I saw this as an opportunity to show myself that I had indeed taken the lessons I had learned over the summer to heart. For the next two weeks, I spent hours, after school, with my face buried in a textbook, ironically reminiscent of the summer, only this time it felt routine. My newly learned study habits not only ensured that I would later get an A in this course, but also instilled confidence that I could handle future challenges, whatever they may be. This isn’t meant to be a cliché “hard work leads to success” story, rather, one where I analyze a turning point in my life. It took spending hours upon hours, weeks upon weeks alone without my parents' constant motivation to discover my own oomph, oomph which I carried during my sophomore year and now carry with me every day. These “failures'' sparked reformation that has equipped me with the conviction needed to find success and happiness in the different facets of my life.

As a first-generation American, I have held on to my Ethiopian heritage with the hope that someday, I may be able to pass down the centuries of exuberant tradition to my children. It is this ancient culture that makes most Ethiopians very proud people, and me a proud Ethiopian. Ethiopia is home to over ninety ethnic groups and up until this point (for the most part), these groups have coexisted peacefully and embraced diversity. However, ethnic conflict in the motherland, which has been going on for decades on a much smaller scale, has significantly intensified within the last year. Sadly, months of ethnic genocide and warfare have been the source of civil unrest, panic, and have also led to social divisiveness between ethnicities. As a result, many Ethiopians have taken their opinions online to social media (TikTok, Instagram, Twitter, etc.), spreading false propaganda, slandering the Ethiopian government, and expressing their ethnic-nationalist views. When this issue arose, I was in a small, exclusive discord server called Habesha Connect that had around 100 members, all Ethiopian. However, given the ongoing turmoil, we decided to open the server to others and promoted Habesha Connect on multiple social media platforms, to host progressive discussions with the hopes of reinstating unity within the Ethiopian community, as well as to ease people’s social anxiety and depression (especially teenagers) amidst an intense quarantine period. With the server’s exponential growth, the server transitioned from a friendly, casual server into a purposeful, professional environment. As one of the administrators, it filled me with joy to see that voice chats and text channels were active 24/7, having discussions about politics, religion, and everyday life. Habesha Connect since then has evolved into East Africa Connect, which at its peak boasted over 10,000 users. We decided to expand the server to include Eritreans, Somalis, Djiboutians, and Kenyans, opening lines of communication between other East African diasporas all over the world. Although activities in the server had no impact on global events, creating an understanding between different groups of people undoubtedly strengthened the Ethiopian diaspora community, which helped me discover my passion for my homeland. I am certain that I will apply my future profession in a way that benefits Ethiopia, using my privilege as an American and my college experience to bring me one step closer to that goal.