Leadership, to me, has never been about titles or recognition. It has always been about accountability. The willingness to step forward, take responsibility, and push both yourself and the people around you to be better. I learned that lesson growing up with my identical twin sister, Ava. From the moment we were born, life felt like a constant competition. Growing up alongside someone who mirrored me so closely meant each milestone felt like a scoreboard: grades, sports, friends. I spent years struggling with the pressure of separating myself, creating my own identity, and the anxiety of falling short. That constant comparison forced me to reevaluate my capacity to embrace my own individuality and to confront who I was outside of her. For a long time, I let those comparisons define me. But eventually I realized something important. If I spent my life chasing someone else’s performance, I would never fully develop my own potential. Real leadership begins with self discipline and self awareness. Instead of focusing on outperforming my sister, I began focusing on improvement. At practice, I stopped worrying about who had the most points and started concentrating on effort, preparation, and consistency. In the classroom, I stopped comparing test scores and focused on mastering the material. That shift forced me to hold myself accountable every day. That mindset carried with me into college, where I balanced academics, athletics, and leadership roles while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Being a student athlete demands more than talent. It requires discipline, time management, and the ability to stay composed under pressure. Those experiences taught me that leadership is often quiet. It shows up in the extra work you put in when nobody is watching and in the example you set for others. My understanding of leadership deepened even further while working as a legal assistant at Gilbert Law PLLC, an estate planning and employment law firm. One summer I helped organize documentation for a woman who had been pushed out of her position after returning from FMLA leave. While she was gone, her responsibilities had quietly been reassigned. When she came back, her title was reduced and her pay was cut. As we assembled the timeline and drafted a demand letter, the pattern became clear. Watching that process unfold showed me how leadership can exist in advocacy. Sometimes leadership means standing beside someone who has been overlooked and helping them reclaim their voice. That experience made something clear to me. Leadership is not simply about guiding others when things are easy. It is about stepping forward when fairness and accountability are at stake. As I prepare to begin law school at the University of Minnesota, I carry those lessons with me. Leadership means demanding excellence from myself, supporting the people around me, and using my skills to advocate for those who may not have the same opportunities or resources.

The car was filled with thick air, stinking of peanut butter from the sandwich I was attempting to scarf down and the sweaty musk that came from the twenty sprints I had just run. I was racing from basketball practice and was already late for my next two hours of volleyball practice. My muscles burned, and my backpack was overflowing with homework. In that moment, though, all I could think about was how my identical twin sister, Ava, outscored me in the scrimmage again, and every time I looked over, my coach was looking at her, not me. That moment captured the biggest challenge of my life: growing up beside someone who mirrored me almost perfectly. Ava and I have been fighting since the womb - literally. The flat spot on my head at birth was evidence of my sister’s earliest victory, one she still loves to tease me about. Growing up alongside someone who mirrored me so closely meant each milestone felt like a scoreboard: grades, sports, friends. Every success felt temporary and every loss felt magnified. I spent years struggling with the pressure of separating myself, creating my own identity, and the anxiety of falling short. That constant comparison forced me to reevaluate my capacity to embrace my own individuality and to confront who I was outside of her. My most meaningful accomplishment was learning to utilize this dynamic in a positive and intentional way. Instead of chasing someone else’s shadow, I began chasing improvement itself. I came to understand that real growth is not about outperforming others but about holding yourself accountable. At practice, I stopped obsessing over stats, and in school, I stopped comparing scores. I started focusing on what I could control: my attitude, effort, and consistency. Small changes in how I approached these situations eventually blossomed into true resilience and self-discipline. Competition began to mean something new, not just pushing myself, but advocating for myself. My new mindset, which defined me while still being part of something bigger, laid the groundwork for what would become my passion in law. I entered college with a substantial number of credits already completed, which allowed me to focus on higher-level coursework early, take demanding writing-intensive classes, and invest my time in experiences that deepened my passion for law. I was genuinely excited to start college, not only because I had chosen something different from Ava, but because I had finally found something that was entirely my own. It was exciting to share what I learned in my classes and hear about her nursing experiences. Maintaining a 4.0 student-athlete on an accelerated path demanded more than just hard work. It required the grit and discipline cultivated through a lifetime of competition. Balancing academics, athletics, and leadership roles called for the same internal drive that once fueled my rivalry with my twin. Those attributes carried directly into my time at Gilbert Law PLLC, an Estate Planning and Employment Law firm, where I worked as a legal assistant for two summers. Over the next three years and throughout my legal career, I will be surrounded by peers who are just as capable and ambitious as I am, but I have lived in that space my whole life. I’ve spent my entire life learning how to hold my own in competitive spaces, stay grounded under pressure, and assert myself when I feel overshadowed. Now, I am more than ready to put those instincts to use to help others. At the University of Minnesota Law School, I will bring that steady, disciplined mindset to academics and the profession beyond it.

The moment that pushed me toward law happened while I was working as a legal assistant at Gilbert Law PLLC, an estate planning and employment law firm. One of the matters I helped work on involved a woman who had returned from FMLA leave only to find that her role had quietly been taken from her. During her leave, her main responsibilities were reassigned to another employee who refused to give them back when she returned. Within weeks her title was reduced, her pay was cut, and the position she had spent years building was effectively stripped away. My role was simple looking from an outside persepctive. I organized documents, built timelines, and helped assemble the narrative that would become a demand letter. But as we pieced together the details, the pattern became obvious. Every document and email showed how gradually and quietly her role had been diminished. What struck me most was not just the legal argument we were building, but the emotional reality behind it. I watched someone who had invested years into her career suddenly feel powerless in a system that seemed stacked against her. That experience made the purpose of the law feel very real to me. The law has the ability to take a situation that feels unfair or chaotic and bring structure, clarity, and accountability to it. It allows individuals to challenge decisions that might otherwise go unquestioned. Seeing that process unfold showed me that legal work is not just about technical rules or arguments. It is about restoring balance when someone has been treated unfairly. In many ways, the idea of advocating for people who feel overlooked connects to my own life. Growing up as an identical twin meant that comparison was constant. For years I felt the pressure of trying to distinguish myself while standing next to someone who mirrored me so closely. That environment taught me resilience and forced me to learn how to assert myself, work harder, and stay focused even when I felt overshadowed. Over time I learned that the most important competition was not with someone else but with the standard I set for myself. Those lessons carried directly into my academic and professional experiences. As a student athlete maintaining a 4.0 GPA while pursuing an accelerated academic path, I learned how to stay disciplined in demanding environments. Law appeals to me because it rewards that same persistence, attention to detail, and willingness to push through complex problems. As I pursue my legal education, my goal is to use those skills to advocate for individuals in my community who feel that their voices are being ignored. Whether that involves employment disputes, workplace fairness, or other areas where people feel powerless against larger institutions, I want to be someone who can help bring clarity and accountability to those situations. Law gives structure to advocacy. It turns frustration into action and evidence into meaningful change. I am pursuing this path because I want to be part of that process and use the tools of the law to ensure that people in my community maintain their right to equity.

The car was filled with thick air, stinking of peanut butter from the sandwich I was attempting to scarf down and the sweaty musk that came from the twenty sprints I had just run. I was racing from basketball practice and was already late for my next two hours of volleyball practice. My muscles burned, and my backpack was overflowing with homework. In that moment, though, all I could think about was how my identical twin sister, Ava, outscored me in the scrimmage again, and every time I looked over, my coach was looking at her, not me. This small instance captured the story of my life: fast-paced, demanding, and driven by comparison. Ava and I have been fighting since the womb - literally. The flat spot on my head at birth was evidence of my sister’s earliest victory, one she still loves to tease me about. Growing up alongside someone who mirrored me so closely meant each milestone felt like a scoreboard: grades, sports, friends. I spent years struggling with the pressure of separating myself, creating my own identity, and the anxiety of falling short. That constant comparison forced me to reevaluate my capacity to embrace my own individuality and to confront who I was outside of her. My most meaningful accomplishment was learning to utilize this dynamic in a positive and intentional way. Instead of chasing someone else’s shadow, I began chasing improvement itself. I came to understand that real growth is not about outperforming others but about holding yourself accountable. At practice, I stopped obsessing over stats, and in school, I stopped comparing scores. I started focusing on what I could control: my attitude, effort, and consistency. Small changes in how I approached these situations eventually blossomed into true resilience and self-discipline. Competition began to mean something new, not just pushing myself, but advocating for myself. My new mindset, which defined me while still being part of something bigger, laid the groundwork for what would become my passion in law. I entered college with a substantial number of credits already completed, which allowed me to focus on higher-level coursework early, take demanding writing-intensive classes, and invest my time in experiences that deepened my passion for law. I was genuinely excited to start college, not only because I had chosen something different from Ava, but because I had finally found something that was entirely my own. It was exciting to share what I learned in my classes and hear about her nursing experiences. Maintaining a 4.0 student-athlete on an accelerated path demanded more than just hard work. It required the grit and discipline cultivated through a lifetime of competition. Balancing academics, athletics, and leadership roles called for the same internal drive that once fueled my rivalry with my twin. Those attributes carried directly into my time at Gilbert Law PLLC, an Estate Planning and Employment Law firm, where I worked as a legal assistant for two summers. One of the most memorable tasks this past summer was assisting in the drafting of a demand letter for a woman who had been pushed out of her position after returning from FMLA leave. During her leave, her primary responsibilities were quietly reassigned to another employee who refused to relinquish them when she returned. Within weeks, her title was reduced, her pay was cut, and the job she had built her career around was stripped away from her. As I helped organize timelines and piece together the narrative, I saw firsthand how the law could expose inequity with precision. Every detail we documented revealed a clear pattern of discrimination. What really struck me most was how familiar the emotional dynamic felt. I had spent my life learning how to assert my voice when it was overshadowed. But now I watched our client’s identity and hard work be diminished. Seeing that made the purpose of the law unmistakable to me. Law restores balance and dignity for people who have been overlooked. This experience brought everything full circle. The law lets me channel the competitive instincts that shaped me, the drive to compete, to question, to endure, into something far more meaningful than my own success. Over the next three years and throughout my legal career, I will be surrounded by peers who are just as capable and ambitious as I am, but I have lived in that space my whole life. I’ve spent my entire life learning how to hold my own in competitive spaces, stay grounded under pressure, and assert myself when I feel overshadowed. Now, I am more than ready to put those instincts to use to help others. At the University of Minnesota Law School, I will bring that steady, disciplined mindset to academics and the profession beyond it.