I am not afraid to speak up for the people and social problems I care about most. A few years ago, I sat with my back against the Mount Kailash School in Nepal, facing the Himalayas. My volunteer group was fixing up a schoolhouse for over 200 Tibetan refugee students. During a break, we asked the children, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The children immediately responded: "I'm learning English so I can be a teacher." "I want to be a dancer and a mom." "I want to be a cook." "I want to be a doctor!" I was happily stunned. We were in Tashi Palkhiel, the oldest Tibetan refugee camp in Pokhara, where over 800 refugees had fled from China only to be discriminated against in Nepal. The Nepalese government denied them the right to vote, hold jobs, go to school, or hold documentation. The political situation was bleak, yet these children's hope was bright. After saying goodbye, one of my AFS-USA program leaders said, "You know, I thought you were super shy and quiet at first. But when you talk with the kids or things you're passionate about, you get louder. You seem so confident and happy." I looked over at her, surprised. My program leader had no idea that I had grown up painfully shy because of a rare genetic nasal problem called choanal atresia. I lived the first twelve years of my life with a pretty nasal-sounding voice. Kids teased me at school. My parents thought I had constant allergies. Finally, just two months prior to Nepal, doctors corrected it through surgery. I finally liked my voice. Then it hit me. I refused to be quiet anymore, especially about things that mattered. Here in Nepal, these refugees used their voices despite obstacles. Even under the watchful eye of soldiers, little education, and extreme poverty, these heroes were bravely painting the world they envisioned. If they were brave enough to speak out, then I would too. Over the next few years, I increasingly advocated for refugees. I applied with a friend to be a Program Director for my college's refugee service program. Our group mobilized hundreds of college students to ship thousands of quilts, mattresses, and bags for refugees worldwide. Further, through an internship with a company called BanQu, we partnered with a local nonprofit Utah Valley Refugees to improve case management for over 180 refugee families. I learned more about what refugees truly needed. Right now, over 26 million refugees are fighting for a voice. They flee from violence in Ukraine, Afghanistan, Syria, Myanmar, Venezuela, and South Sudan. There are refugee camps filled with hundreds of thousands, but also refugee families next door to me in Utah. Despite their suffering, they are strong survivors. Unfortunately, in countries refusing citizenship, they lack opportunities to speak out about the public health, trafficking, educational, economic, and employment challenges they face. Refugees deserve to chart their futures. Refugees deserve to have a voice. Towards that goal, I plan to pursue graduate degrees and opportunities in humanitarian and social impact, and give my voice for them. I may not be the loudest or most eloquent, but I will give all my efforts to speak up so that they can too.

Last week, my parents announced my family is moving. They are relocating away from Montana, where my love for nature bloomed. My heart both hurts with nostalgia and beams with gratitude. I grew up in the gorgeous valley of Missoula. Every summer, my hands would be stained with the purple-blue streaks of wild huckleberries. My family vacations went back and forth between the geysers of Yellowstone and the towering peaks of Glacier National Park. My siblings and I would take our family's canoes and race them through the Clark Fork river. We went fishing, hiked every nearby mountain while singing "the hills are alive," and practiced archery in the woods before heading to Dutch oven cooking. I learned to love camping in frigid temperatures, stargazing in the middle of nowhere, and watching elk and deer come up almost right to our house. Nature was my best friend. It made me feel alive. Did nature sometimes have its downsides? Ticks and mosquitos and frostbite, oh my! Yes, as my dad would say, "Nature builds character." Cue the teenager grumbling that I now regret. Shoveling snow at 5 am in the morning was never my favorite, and neither were the sunburns. But I would never trade my love of the outdoors for watching Netflix or playing video games--in fact, those were never options growing up. Our parents knew playing outside would bring better memories. Now that I'm in college in another state, I still invite friends to go running, kayaking, hiking, and camping. No matter where I live, I will wholeheartedly advocate for the earth every chance I get. I never want to take nature for granted. I believe we have a duty to take care of our earth, and the blessing of appreciating awe-inspiring beauty that never ends.

My goals in several categories help me reach as high as possible. Travel: I've already received an all-expenses-paid trip to Japan through the Japanese embassy and hiked in the foothills of the Himalaya mountains in Nepal. This summer, because of hustling for college grants, I'm attending the Oxford to India Global Business Seminar. My future goals include studying Mandarin Chinese in Singapore, interning in Taiwan, backpacking through Southeast Asia, and founding an international nonprofit. Learning: Already reached my goals of graduating high school with a 4.0, being accepted into my dream school, and serving in Amnesty International, Model United Nations, Y-Serve Refugee, and the Ballard Center for Social Impact. I have already completed two internships in college, and plan to finish four. I want to graduate in Political Science: Global Development, get a graduate degree, and work for the United Nations. Fitness: Already achieved varsity cross country and tennis, run a half marathon, cut sugar out of my diet for several months, and learned to cook lots of delicious food. Want to earn skydiver certification, run three marathons, win pickleball tournaments, and jump rope at a competitive level. Service: I've already helped raise $14,000 for victims of sexual assault, researched over 5,000 of my relatives and aided in genealogy efforts, trained 90+ English teaching volunteers, and served my family. My service plans include starting my own nonprofit helping refugees, giving $100 tips at restaurants, building an anonymous scholarship fund, and helping my future family achieve their dreams. This last category is crucial, because for me, life is more fulfilling when I switch from being self-focused to others-focused. The number one thing I want to accomplish in life is to die knowing that I loved others, helped them be happy, and made the world a better place.

Confidence and humility may sound like polar opposites. For me, they are inseparably connected. Previously, I thought confidence meant being the best, the prettiest, the smartest, the most talented, the most popular, the most "successful"...whatever that meant. It felt like I didn't deserve to be confident unless I was perfect. So, probably like many other people have experienced, I chased perfection. I chased perfection through diets, sports, music, friendships, church, and service. I chased perfection in a perfect 4.0 GPA that I maintained from kindergarten through my senior year.I thought my imperfections precluded my confidence, until I met a friend named Sage*. Sage saw through my shyness and helped me grow. At first, she would invite me over to make treats for others. Then we jokingly developed a "SWAT" team that stood for Service Without A Trace. Our SWAT team would secretly shovel snow for neighbors in brutally cold Montana. Together, we trained hundreds of senior citizens how to research their genealogy and deceased loved ones in 15+ sessions. We volunteered in recycling, coaching, tutoring, and more. There was one day where I realized I felt so happy and confident with Sage, and then it hit me. My confidence around her wasn't because I had become perfect. We were confident together because we were helping others. We weren't focused on ourselves and on our happiness, but on others' happiness. I was freed. My confidence comes through humility. As others have said, I believe humility is being humble enough to care about others more. Humility isn't thinking less of ourselves, but thinking about ourselves less. Humility leads to confidence because it frees us from being self-focused, and makes us others-focused. I am confident in loving others.

Was being "well-rounded" a strength or a weakness? My seventeen-year-old self couldn't decide. I yearned to be an Olympic gymnast, All-American soccer player, or professional underwater basketweaver, but no. I explored a variety of hobbies! Over the years, I played soccer, youth basketball, middle school track, varsity cross country, and varsity tennis. Musically, I adored playing the flute, fumbling around the piano, or singing in the shower. Baking or cooking? I loved both. Spanish or Mandarin Chinese? I took both, plus French and German. Volunteering for recycling or refugees? Sign me up. If life was a test, my perpetual answer was "E) All of the above." But then I hit college admissions. Suddenly I had to define myself in 200, 400, or 800 words. Would any word amount suffice? Counselors advised, "Show what you're passionate about." Others said, "Don't be a jack of all trades and master of none." Cue the existential crisis. The problem wasn't that I didn't know what to write, but that I had too many options! Then came a one-word epiphany: empathy. Why empathy? I realized more hobbies led to deeper understanding of others. More hobbies, more new friends. More passions, more "oh no way, ME TOO!" moments. While on a volunteer mission, I connected with random strangers in Spanish and Chinese who were surprised I took the time to learn their languages. Because of baking, I could bake treats for friends who felt sad. Because I loved tennis, I could invite people who felt alone. Sure, life requires some specialization. However, I've found hobbies lead to true joy when they're centered on loving other people, and it's never bad to develop more. For me, hobbies are a gateway to human connection, and I am grateful in some ways to be "well-rounded."