I was born in Lubumbashi, Congo during a time my parents were told a prophecy that they were going to be in the U.S soon. And it came to be that I celebrated my third birthday in Rogers Park, Chicago. I lived pretty close to the beach for most of my childhood. I remember feeling carefree and looking forward to the summertime because I could spend my days floating in Lake Michigan and teasing my siblings about not knowing how to swim. At this time, my career aspirations were doctor, astronaut, and or chef. Cooking was a non-negotiable aspect of my future. This easy going spirit was disrupted when I first heard about Sandra Bland’s story at ten years old. Daily Chicago News subjected me to a myriad of police brutality stories which made me sad but didn’t fracture my disposition. The injustice of Bland’s story snatched me out of my dreamy haze. Based on my reaction to that story, I realized that I detached myself from the police brutality stories. I thought something like that could never happen to me because I wouldn’t be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I believed that I could “behave” myself out of trouble. Bland’s story pushed me to recognize the pattern and I saw that marginalized people were taken advantage of by a system that disregarded their needs and humanity. That’s when I became internally motivated to become a lawyer. I recognized that you couldn’t “behave” your way out of a system designed against you. With my newfound resolve to combat injustice, I no longer had an idealist view of the world. Injustice became omnipresent and inescapable. As a sophomore in college, I still want to pursue law. I would like to be a Criminal Lawyer and advocate for marginalized communities, providing them an equal opportunity at justice. After law school, I plan to begin practicing at non-profits that target marginalized communities and work from there. In addition to lawyering, I would also like to create more programs that target underserved students. The connections and resources that I’ll accumulate as a lawyer will allow me to create these initiatives. One of the biggest disparities I noticed as a child was my experience at my middle school in Chicago and that of my middle school in Evanston. I greatly owe my drive and success to the abundant resources that I was given as an Evanston scholar. I want to create programs that make up for the lack of resources in inner-city schools. These programs would provide counselors who advise students on their potential and the options available to them. Having an invested guidance counselor would enable students to envision and pursue a grander life for themselves, mitigating the failures of their educational institutions. As a Philosophy student, I often find myself wondering, what if any moral imperative do we have to correct the wrongs of the past? During a speech that reaffirmed Evanston’s status as a welcoming city, Mayor Daniel Bliss stated “We have long known that diversity is our strength and that we have a moral obligation to protect all our residents” As a lawyer, I can directly act on this obligation by providing adequate legal representation to marginalized communities. Philosophy pushes me to critically examine what I assume to know. It has transformed the way I think about morality and my place in society. I am pursuing criminal law not because I want to help but because it’s my duty to. As for the early career aspirations that remained with me, food is still non-negotiable.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor, lawyer, or chef. My parents were fine with these aspirations because, for the most part, they implied I would be going to college. No exception to the stereotypes of immigrant parents, my mom and dad were strict, especially about academics. From elementary school and on, I excelled in school and motivated my parents' confidence and my ambitions. I understood that my success was not only beneficial to me but it was a reflection of my parents’ hard work and sacrifices. Womanhood was another important aspect of my upbringing. As a Congolese woman, my parents wanted to instill certain values in me. Congolese culture is highly patriarchal and women are expected to be submissive to male authority and possess the typical domestic skills. As an academically inclined child, I struggled to determine how to conform my ambitions to the limited female model my culture allotted. As I started seriously considering my career, my parents would tell me that as a woman I couldn’t be too career oriented and I had to think about how I presented myself now because it would be a reflection of my future husband. This divide created a rift between my parents and me. I felt like in adhering to cultural norms I found oppressive, they limited their view of my potential, in turn limiting me. During my senior year of high school, my parents decided that I could not go to college out of the city. Living in Chicago gave me a decent amount of opportunities but I was devastated. Their culture taught them that women must be protected from corruption. Dorming, especially out of state, was unfathomable. As someone who excelled in school, I felt like my parents were stopping me from life-changing opportunities and connections. I was mad but still focused on attending a top University. My parents and I compromised that I could dorm since I got into Northwestern. I’ve learned that I don’t need a blueprint to tell me how to be a woman. I have the agency to determine what that means for me. I have found peace and strength in honoring my parents through my ambitions, not theirs. I have fought back against their conceptions of womanhood and they recognize me for all that I am. I am a trailblazer because I am not letting myself be held back by others' perceptions of my ability. I am crafting an original and authentic path shaped by my desires and goals. This recognition further promoted me to realize that meekness is a disservice to change. I had to persistently push myself to engage in difficult conversations and it gave me a fighting spirit. I am willing to challenge systems of power which is why I am passionate about combating inequality within the Criminal Justice system and advocating for marginalized communities as a criminal lawyer. In addition to lawyering, I would also like to create more programs that target underserved students. One of the biggest disparities I noticed as a child was my experience at my middle school in Chicago and that of my middle school in the Evanston suburb. I want to create programs that make up for the lack of resources in inner-city schools. These programs would provide counselors who advise students on their potential and the options available to them. My ambition is a product of my parents' sacrifices and strictness. I’ll never tell them this now, but they were right.

When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor, lawyer and a chef. My parents were fine with these aspirations because for the most part, they implied I would be going to college. No exception to the stereotypes of immigrant parents, my mom and dad were strict, especially about academics. From elementary school and on, I excelled in school, motivated my parents' confidence and my own ambitions. I understood that my success was not only beneficial to me but it was a reflection of my parents’ hard work and sacrifices. Womanhood was another important aspect of my upbringing. My culture viewed gender hierarchically and men held the power. As such, I struggled determining how to conform my ambitions to the limited female model my culture allotted. As I got older, my parents would tell me that as a woman I couldn’t be too career oriented and I had to think about how I presented myself now because it would be a reflection of my future husband. Looking back, I can recognize my parents' struggle with accommodating my ambitions and their cultural norms. My parents and I often clashed but we came to understand each other. Culminating from concepts discussed above, during senior year, my parents decided that I could not go to college out of the city. Living in Chicago gave me a decent amount of opportunities but I was devastated. Their culture taught them that women must be protected from corruption. Dorming, especially out of state, was unfathomable. As someone who excelled in school, I felt like my parents were stopping me from life changing opportunities and connections. Mad but still focused on attending a top University, I applied to Northwestern and University of Chicago. My parents and I compromised that I could dorm if I got into Northwestern. I ended up at Northwestern and it has been a life changing experience. Immersed in an entirely different environment, I have learned so much about myself and others. I am grateful for my upbringing and the values my parents instilled in me. I am currently a sophomore at Northwestern University majoring in Philosophy on the Pre-Law track. As a Brady scholar and Future Justice Lawyer, I am able to make an impact on social justice issues as an undergraduate. Brady scholars engage in in-depth discussions on ethics, morality, and justice while conducting extensive research on social issues. Currently, my focus is on the challenges faced by high school students experiencing homelessness, and I am developing proposals to build additional units of affordable housing by my senior year. As a Future Justice Lawyer, I am researching funding transparency and accountability for the Justice system as well as the impact of climate change on Chicago’s poorest communities. I am passionate about combating inequality within the Criminal Justice system and advocating for marginalized communities as a criminal lawyer. In addition to lawyering, I would also like to create more programs that target underserved students. One of the biggest disparities I noticed as a child was my experience at my middle school in Chicago and that of my middle school in the Evanston suburb. I want to create programs that make up for the lack of resources in inner-city schools. These programs would provide counselors that advise students on their potential and the options available to them. Having an invested guidance counselor would enable students to envision and pursue grander life for themselves, mitigating the failures of their educational institutions. My drive is the product of my parents' sacrifices and strictness. I’ll never tell them this now, but they were right.

I grew up in Rogers Park, Chicago and lived pretty close to the beach for most of my childhood. I remember feeling carefree and looking forward to the summertime because I could spend my days floating in lake Michigan and teasing my siblings about not knowing how to swim. At this time my career aspirations were doctor, astronaut, and or a chef, cooking was a non-negotiable aspect of my future. This easy going spirit was disrupted when I first heard about Sandra Bland’s story at ten years old. Daily Chicago news subjected me to a myriad of police brutality stories which made me sad but didn’t fracture my disposition. The injustice of Bland’s story snatched me out of my dreamy haze. Based on my reaction to that story, I realized that I detached myself from the police brutality stories. I thought something like that could never happen to me because I wouldn’t be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I believed that I could “behave” myself out of trouble. Bland’s story pushed me to recognize the pattern and I saw that marginalized people were taken advantage of by a system that disregarded their needs and humanity. That’s when I became internally motivated to become a lawyer. I recognized that you couldn’t “behave” your way out of a system designed against you. With my newfound resolve to combat injustice, I no longer had an idealist view of the world. Injustice became omnipresent and inescapable. As a sophomore in college, I still want to pursue law. I would like to be a Criminal Lawyer and advocate for marginalized communities, providing them an equal opportunity at justice. After law school, I plan to begin practicing at non-profits that target marginalized communities and work from there. In addition to lawyering, I would also like to create more programs that target underserved students. The connections and resources that I’ll accumulate as a lawyer will allow me to create these initiatives. One of the biggest disparities I noticed as a child was my experience at my middle school in Chicago and that of my middle school in Evanston. I greatly owe my drive and success to the abundant resources that I was given as an Evanston scholar. I want to create programs that make up for the lack of resources in inner-city schools. These programs would provide counselors that advise students on their potential and the options available to them. Having an invested guidance counselor would enable students to envision and pursue grander life for themselves, mitigating the failures of their educational institutions. As a Philosophy student, I often find myself wondering, what if any moral imperative do we have to correct the wrongs of the past? During a speech that reaffirmed Evanston’s status as a welcoming city, Mayor Daniel Bliss stated “We have long known that diversity is our strength and that we have a moral obligation to protect all our residents” As a lawyer, I can directly act on this obligation by providing adequate legal representation to marginalized communities. Philosophy pushes me to critically examine what I assume to know. It has transformed the way I think about morality and my place in society. I am pursuing criminal law not because I want to help but because it’s my duty to. As for the early career aspirations that remained with me, food is still non-negotiable.

IMG_2803 leonie b.mov

Coming from a low-income household has taught me to express gratitude. My upbringing has taught me that shifting your perspective in bad situations allows you to work toward a solution instead of sulking over the problem. Instead of feeling bad over what I didn't have, I was grateful for what I had. Whatever I lacked, I knew I could get with hard work. I grew up the eldest of five children. I was thrown into the role of an additional parent just by the circumstances. While I was navigating my life, I was able to mentor my little siblings. I was able to instill in them the same positive outlook on life. I view my challenges as a way to prove my growth. Every hardship is an opportunity for me to shine. I express gratitude that I can be challenged because that means I am still growing. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. I aim to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. Society should believe in the justice system, not fear it. To pursue my goals, I maintain a strong academic standing and am active in my community. I am currently a volunteer for the Northwestern Prison Education Program where I am working with former prisoners to spark dialogue and educate the community about the benefits of prison education. My upbringing drives my ambition towards my goals.

The lack of knowledge on how to navigate the justice system, compounded with inadequate legal assistance is a significant factor in minorities becoming victims of the justice system. Due to long-standing biases and disguised motivations, this country has perverted the notion of justice. I aspire to be a lawyer who can effectively advocate for my clients. My education will help me give these people a voice and a fair chance in the justice system. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. Society should believe in the justice system, not fear it.  After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. I aim to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Too many lives are thrown away because they aren't given the right to adequate representation. So I will search for more channels to help minorities without the resources to afford proper legal representation. The core of true justice lies in prevention rather than punishment. The cycle of imprisonment and recidivism disproportionately affects minority individuals who are often reintegrated into the same challenging circumstances that led to their incarceration. Developing empathy is crucial in the pursuit of justice. By delving into the backgrounds of incarcerated individuals, a clear pattern emerges. Those raised in high-risk, underprivileged areas, which are often heavily policed, usually resort to violence as a means of self-preservation. This survival mindset becomes ingrained, serving as the underlying motivation for their actions. Recognizing this pattern is integral to preventing it. I will leverage my platform to educate others and advocate for policy changes. One of my key objectives is to push for legislation that governs neighborhood layouts. For instance, by setting minimum requirements for neighborhoods, such as community centers, accessible grocery stores, well-funded schools, and viable employment opportunities, individuals will no longer feel trapped in their circumstances. Instead of merely surviving in their neighborhoods, they can truly live within them. I am a volunteer for the Northwestern Prison Education Program (NPEP). My role allows me to hear numerous accounts of how the justice system neglects individuals. I am deeply passionate about restorative justice, especially as an instrument to help individuals become better citizens. Current reintegration systems often lack inclusivity. Individuals who have served lengthy sentences are left trying to navigate an ever-evolving society with the limitation of being released prisoners. For instance, one individual I work with shared his challenges in simply opening a savings account after being incarcerated for over 15 years and being released five months ago. He says without his wife, he'd be lost. There are countless others like him—and people who aren't as fortunate with no familial support. Continuing to volunteer at places like NPEP is one way for me to make a difference. I aspire to create more organizations like this. I want my organization to focus on helping formerly incarcerated people attain financial stability and literacy, recognizing that financial hardship often underlies many crimes. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. With the foundation of my legal education, this role will empower me to facilitate true progress. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to advocate for frameworks that proactively prevent the misuse of justice. Justice rooted in empathy can prevent further devastation.

iCloud link attached below

My family relocated to Rogers Park, Chicago from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) when I was only three years old. Balancing my identity while learning Congolese culture was challenging because I was submerged in American culture. I grew up deciphering what it meant to be a woman in Congolese culture versus American culture. One thing that was very clear to me early on was my goal to become a lawyer. At ten years old, Sandra Bland's case made me want to be a lawyer. Though Bland was roughly the same age as my mom, I saw myself in her. I used to believe that if I was educated enough and did all the right things, then I was safe. All these people had to have done something wrong, right? I can recognize today that this was all self-preservation. The lack of knowledge on how to navigate the justice system, compounded with inadequate legal assistance is a significant factor in minorities becoming victims of the justice system. Due to long-standing biases and disguised motivations, this country has perverted the notion of justice. My education will help me give these people a voice and a fair chance in the justice system. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Too many lives are thrown away because they aren't given the right to adequate representation. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. With the foundation of my legal education, this role will empower me to facilitate true progress. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to advocate for frameworks that proactively prevent the misuse of justice. Justice rooted in empathy can prevent further devastation. Winning this scholarship will allow me to pay a portion of my first-quarter tuition. I have spent my summer applying for many scholarships to pay for my education. I plan to combine my scholarship winnings, summer earnings, and school job to pay for my education. This will be difficult but my main motivation is to reduce the amount of money my parents will have to contribute to my education. My parents haven’t had to pay out of pocket because I’ve been fortunate enough to receive enough scholarship money to cover my first-year tuition. They have other responsibilities and I don’t want to add the financial burden of my tuition. Especially when I know I can work hard and do it myself. This scholarship will contribute to reducing the stress of pursuing higher education.

My family relocated to Rogers Park, Chicago from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) when I was only three years old. While I was too young to understand, this move was not merely geographical; it began a profound amalgamation of my African heritage with my newfound identity as a Black woman. My African parents, having been informed about the Black population in America, believed that we differed significantly from them and should distance ourselves. Nevertheless, the presence of Black individuals was ubiquitous in my neighborhood. I attended school and daycare with them and maintained friendships with them. Despite this, a persistent divide remained; the distinction between me and "them" was always evident. The remarks I received from my peers would further reinforce this divide within myself. I constantly heard phrases like, "You don't sound Black" or "(insert Hispanic person) is Blacker than you". Now the separation I felt from the Black community was no longer due to my parent's apprehension but also because of how my peers viewed me. I eventually moved to the Evanston suburbs where there were more White people than I was accustomed to. This change brought a different perspective to weigh in on my identity. I would hear variations of the phrase,  "You sound like a white girl", even from white people. As I acclimated to the new environment, the comments evolved, and I began to receive surprised reactions when I excelled academically, shifting the focus from my mannerisms to my intellect. I was angry because I realized that people's perception of Blackness was heavily biased by stereotypes. With every look they were telling me that they believed Black people aren't mild-mannered, they don't have a good vocabulary, and they definitely aren't smart. It was disheartening when I realized these comments mostly came from my Black peers. Believing that Black culture is monolithic not only ignores the many intricacies of what it means to be Black, but it obstructs progress. We cannot admonish stagnation but reject growth. Progress arises from pushing the boundaries of what society deems acceptable for us and persisting in the face of resistance. Upon reflecting on these comments, I felt empathy for my Black peers. They were restricted by societal expectations, and I hope they have found the strength to challenge them. I do every day. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Too many lives are thrown away because they aren't given the right to adequate representation. So I will search for more channels to help minorities without the resources to afford proper legal representation. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. With the foundation of my legal education, this role will empower me to facilitate true progress. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to advocate for frameworks that proactively prevent the misuse of justice. Justice rooted in empathy can prevent further devastation. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. Society should believe in the justice system, not fear it.

The lack of knowledge on how to navigate the justice system, compounded with inadequate legal assistance is a significant factor in minorities becoming victims of the justice system. Due to long-standing biases and disguised motivations, this country has perverted the notion of justice. I aspire to be a lawyer who can effectively advocate for my client. My education will help me give these people a voice and a fair chance in the justice system. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. Society should believe in the justice system, not fear it. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Too many lives are thrown away because they aren't given the right to adequate representation. So I will search for more channels to help minorities without the resources to afford proper legal representation. The core of true justice lies in prevention rather than punishment. The cycle of imprisonment and recidivism disproportionately affects minority individuals who are often reintegrated into the same challenging circumstances that led to their incarceration. Developing empathy is crucial in the pursuit of justice. By delving into the backgrounds of incarcerated individuals, a clear pattern emerges. Those raised in high-risk, underprivileged areas, which are often heavily policed, usually resort to violence as a means of self-preservation. This survival mindset becomes ingrained, serving as the underlying motivation for their actions. Recognizing this pattern is integral to preventing it. I will leverage my platform to educate others and advocate for policy changes. One of my key objectives is to push for legislation that governs neighborhood layouts. For instance, by setting minimum requirements for neighborhoods, such as community centers, accessible grocery stores, well-funded schools, and viable employment opportunities, individuals will no longer feel trapped in their circumstances. Instead of merely surviving in their neighborhoods, they can truly live within them. I am a volunteer for the Northwestern Prison Education Program (NPEP). My role allows me to hear numerous accounts of how the justice system neglects individuals. I am deeply passionate about restorative justice, especially as an instrument to help individuals become better citizens. Current reintegration systems often lack inclusivity. Individuals who have served lengthy sentences are left trying to navigate an ever-evolving society with the limitation of being released prisoners. For instance, one individual I work with shared his challenges in simply opening a savings account after being incarcerated for over 15 years and being released five months ago. He says without his wife, he'd be lost. There are countless others like him—and people who aren't as fortunate with no familial support. Continuing to volunteer at places like NPEP is one way for me to make a difference. I aspire to create more organizations like this. I want my organization to focus on helping formerly incarcerated people attain financial stability and literacy, recognizing that financial hardship often underlies many crimes. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. With the foundation of my legal education, this role will empower me to facilitate true progress. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to advocate for frameworks that proactively prevent the misuse of justice. Justice rooted in empathy can prevent further devastation.

My family relocated to Rogers Park, Chicago from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) when I was only three years old. While I was too young to understand, this move was not merely geographical; it began a profound amalgamation of my African heritage with my newfound identity as a Black woman. My African parents, having been informed about the Black population in America, believed that we differed significantly from them and should distance ourselves. Nevertheless, the presence of Black individuals was ubiquitous in my neighborhood. I attended school and daycare with them and maintained friendships with them. Despite this, a persistent divide remained; the distinction between me and "them" was always evident. The remarks I received from my peers would further reinforce this divide within myself. I constantly heard phrases like, "You don't sound Black" or "(insert Hispanic person) is Blacker than you". Now the separation I felt from the Black community was no longer due to my parent's apprehension but also because of how my peers viewed me. I eventually moved to the Evanston suburbs where there were more White people than I was accustomed to. This change brought a different perspective to weigh in on my identity. I would hear variations of the phrase,  "You sound like a white girl", even from white people. As I acclimated to the new environment, the comments evolved, and I began to receive surprised reactions when I excelled academically, shifting the focus from my mannerisms to my intellect. I was angry because I realized that people's perception of Blackness was heavily biased by stereotypes. With every look they were telling me that they believed Black people aren't mild-mannered, they don't have a good vocabulary, and they definitely aren't smart. It was disheartening when I realized these comments mostly came from my Black peers. Believing that Black culture is monolithic not only ignores the many intricacies of what it means to be Black, but it obstructs progress. We cannot admonish stagnation but reject growth. Progress arises from pushing the boundaries of what society deems acceptable for us and persisting in the face of resistance. Upon reflecting on these comments, I felt empathy for my Black peers. They were restricted by societal expectations, and I hope they have found the strength to challenge them. I do every day. As previously mentioned, I have consistently demonstrated strong intellectual abilities throughout my academic journey. From elementary school through high school, and continuing through my freshman year of college, I have maintained excellent grades, particularly excelling in language arts. This subject nurtured my creativity, often leading me to produce multiple essays at once due to the abundance of ideas in my mind. Unlike other classes where I felt compelled to conform to grading criteria, in language arts, all I had to do was write. Over time, my confidence in my writing abilities has flourished, allowing me to push the boundaries of my expression. Entering college as a philosophy major, I was apprehensive about my writing ability against professors' standards. I struggled a bit to understand what certain professors expected but I delivered. Much of my confidence stems from my writing, it enables me to articulate my thoughts and sway others. The feedback I receive validates the power of words, reinforcing my belief that through education, I can influence others to drive change. This is one of the reasons why a career in law is so appealing to me, I truly believe in the strength of persuasive argumentation. At ten years old, Sandra Bland's case made me want to be a lawyer. Though Bland was roughly the same age as my mom, I saw myself in her. I used to believe that if I was educated enough and did all the right things, then I was safe. All these people had to have done something wrong, right? I can recognize today that this was all self-preservation. If these weren't random acts of violence, then I would always be safe as long as I behaved. Wishful thinking. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on championing minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations. Too many lives are thrown away because they aren't given the right to adequate representation. So I will search for more channels to help minorities without the resources to afford proper legal representation. The core of true justice lies in prevention rather than punishment. The cycle of imprisonment and recidivism disproportionately affects minority individuals who are often reintegrated into the same challenging circumstances that led to their incarceration. Developing empathy is crucial in the pursuit of justice. By delving into the backgrounds of incarcerated individuals, a clear pattern emerges. Those raised in high-risk, underprivileged areas, which are often heavily policed, usually resort to violence as a means of self-preservation. This survival mindset becomes ingrained, serving as the underlying motivation for their actions. Recognizing this pattern is integral to preventing it. I will leverage my platform to educate others and advocate for policy changes. One of my key objectives is to push for legislation that governs neighborhood layouts. For instance, by setting minimum requirements for neighborhoods, such as community centers, accessible grocery stores, well-funded schools, and viable employment opportunities, individuals will no longer feel trapped in their circumstances. Instead of merely surviving in their neighborhoods, they can truly live within them. I am a volunteer for the Northwestern Prison Education Program (NPEP). My role allows me to hear numerous accounts of how the justice system neglects individuals. I am deeply passionate about restorative justice, especially as an instrument to help individuals become better citizens. Current reintegration systems often lack inclusivity. Individuals who have served lengthy sentences are left trying to navigate an ever-evolving society with the limitation of being released prisoners. For instance, one individual I work with shared his challenges in simply opening a savings account after being incarcerated for over 15 years and being released five months ago. He says without his wife, he'd be lost. There are countless others like him—and people who aren't as fortunate with no familial support. Continuing to volunteer at places like NPEP is one way for me to make a difference. I aspire to create more organizations like this. I want my organization to focus on helping formerly incarcerated people attain financial stability and literacy, acknowledging that financial hardship often underlies many crimes. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. With the foundation of my legal education, this role will empower me to facilitate true progress. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to advocate for frameworks that proactively prevent the misuse of justice. Justice rooted in empathy can prevent further devastation. Overall, I hope my work contributes to the notion that the justice system can be fair and equitable. Society should believe in the justice system, not fear it.

As a Christian woman, I am aware that there are some negative perceptions of the church. Whether this is due to personal experience or the way the church has conducted itself in the past. I volunteered as a tutor for my church Northside Community Church to play a role in boosting a positive perception of the church in the minds of young children. In my role, I focused on not only assisting the kids with their assignments but also ensuring they truly grasped the content. I strived to create a safe and welcoming environment, engaging the children in conversations and fostering a sense of belonging. I wanted the church to feel like home. In addition to this role, I am also a volunteer for the Northwestern Prison Education Program (NPEP). The program helps incarcerated individuals in Illinois pursue a Bachelor's degree through Northwestern University. As a volunteer, I am able to organize reading groups at the prison and offer tutoring support. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on advocating for minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Before transitioning into private practice, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations, recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it. Too many Black lives are thrown away because they aren't given the privilege of innocence. I will work to properly defend and advocate for Black individuals in the justice system. I am driven by a determination to I am writing in light of the recent news about Sonya Massey's tragic murder. While her killer has been charged, real justice would have been Sonya being alive today. I am more determined than ever to pursue my ultimate career aspiration of serving as a justice on the Supreme Court. Rather than relying on reactive measures, our country needs to address the root causes of systemic oppression, which are ingrained in its foundation. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to develop laws and frameworks that prevent such egregious acts of violence. It's time to move away from waiting for unwilling martyrs to demand justice. True justice relies on empathy which prioritizes prevention over punishment. I want to focus on building a society where individuals like Sonya are not put in harm's way in the first place.

I often feel disgusted with the way the media chooses to portray Black tragedy. There is an overwhelming lack of empathy in the methodically detached approach news reporters use to report these stories. A father gunned down by the police, will have his mugshot distributed. An image of a mother partying is circulated, only to find out she was a victim of a brazen attack. Instead of highlighting the humanity of the victims, the media often chooses images unrelated to the events, perpetuating the narrative that Black people are responsible for their deaths. A mentality that utterly disregards empathy when confronted with perpetual violence that Black people face at the hands of a society that has been programmed not to register their pain. I was ten years old when I saw the mugshot of a dead Sandra Bland. The image has been seared in my head ever since. At ten years old, Sandra Bland's case made me want to be a lawyer. Though Bland was roughly the same age as my mom, I saw myself in her. Sandra Bland cooperated with the officer until his demands exceeded what was necessary for a routine traffic stop. When he asked her to put out her cigarette, she questioned his request. Her act of questioning his authority seemed to anger him, leading to a confrontation and her forced removal from the vehicle. Due to the lapses in the footage, the true events of that stop may never be uncovered. Three days later, Bland was found hanging in her cell. I used to believe that if I was educated enough and did all the right things, then I was safe. All these people had to have done something wrong, right? I can recognize today that this was all self-preservation. If these weren't random acts of violence, then I would always be safe as long as I behaved. But in what other profession is death the price of "misbehaving"? As I've matured, I've gained deeper insights into the responsibilities of a lawyer. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on advocating for minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Before transitioning into private practice, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations, recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it. Too many Black lives are thrown away because they aren't given the privilege of innocence. I will work to properly defend and advocate for Black individuals in the justice system. I am writing today in light of the recent news about Sonya Massey's tragic murder. While her killer has been charged, real justice would have been Sonya being alive today. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. Rather than relying on reactive measures, our country needs to address the root causes of systemic oppression, which are ingrained in its foundation. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to develop laws and frameworks that proactively prevent such egregious acts of violence. It's time to move away from waiting for unwilling martyrs to demand justice. True justice prioritizes prevention over punishment. True justice relies on empathy.

"What?" I exclaimed. “I said Black people don’t say collage” repeated my White friend. This silly moment was a crucial juncture in my journey of finding out what it means to be Black. It prompted a years-long dialogue within myself on the complexities of identity, race, and cultural perception. My family relocated to Rogers Park, Chicago from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) when I was only three years old. While I was too young to understand, this move was not merely geographical; it marked the beginning of a profound amalgamation of my African heritage with my newfound identity as a Black woman. My African parents, having been informed about the Black population in America, believed that we differed significantly from them and should distance ourselves. Nevertheless, the presence of Black individuals was ubiquitous in my neighborhood. I attended school and daycare with them and maintained friendships with them. Despite this, a persistent divide remained; the distinction between me and "them" was always evident. The remarks I received from my peers would further reinforce this divide within myself. I constantly heard phrases like, "You don't sound Black" or "(insert Hispanic person) is Blacker than you". Now the separation I felt from the Black community was no longer due to my parent's apprehension but also because of how my peers viewed me.. As an elementary school student, I didn't have the tools to fully understand the implications of these comments, so all I felt was hurt and confusion. I eventually moved to the Evanston suburbs where there were more White people than I was accustomed to. This change brought a different perspective to weigh in on my identity. I would hear variations of the phrase, "You sound like a white girl", coming even from white people. As time went on, the comments shifted to expressions of surprise when I outperformed my classmates academically. It seemed that now my intellect, rather than my mannerisms, became the source of surprise. I was angry because I realized that people's perception of Blackness was heavily biased by stereotypes. They were telling me that they believed Black people aren't calm, they don't have a good vocabulary, and they definitely aren't smart. It was disheartening when I realized these comments mostly came from my Black peers. Believing that Black culture is monolithic not only ignores the many intricacies of what it means to be Black, but it obstructs progress. We cannot admonish stagnation but reject growth. Progress arises from pushing the boundaries of what society deems acceptable for us and persisting in the face of resistance. Upon reflecting on these comments, I felt empathy for my Black peers. They were restricted by societal expectations, and I hope that they have since found the strength to challenge them I like to think that these moments were instrumental in crafting my identity, sort of like I don't know… a collage. The best collages tell a story that sometimes the curator didn’t foresee. Each component, while perhaps seemingly incongruent at the time, ultimately contributes to the overall composition. And to be honest, sometimes the individual pieces are ugly, but their integration with other elements yields a cohesive and beautiful whole. The essence of a collage lies in its ability to illustrate that beauty is produced from the coalescence of stories, positive or negative. I am a quintessential Black woman, and every other Black woman who exudes excellence and resilience is the same. Blackness isn't limiting, it's a strong foundation. By the way, Black people do say collage, not much, but still, stay out of Black folk business.

I often feel disgusted with the way the media chooses to portray Black tragedy. There is an overwhelming lack of empathy in the methodically detached approach news reporters use to report these stories. Instead of highlighting the humanity of the victims, the media highlights unrelated areas of the victim's lives perpetuating the narrative that Black people are responsible for their deaths. A mentality that utterly disregards empathy when confronted with the perpetual violence that Black people face at the hands of a society that has been programmed not to register their pain. I was ten years old when I saw the mugshot of a speculated dead Sandra Bland, it hasn't left my head since. At ten years old, Bland's case made me want to be a lawyer. Though Bland was roughly the same age as my mom, I saw myself in her. Sandra Bland cooperated with the officer until his demands exceeded what was necessary for a routine traffic stop. When he asked her to put out her cigarette, she questioned his request. Her act of questioning his authority seemed to anger him, leading to a confrontation and her forced removal from the vehicle. Three days later, Bland was found hanging in her cell. I used to believe that if I was educated enough and did all the right things, then I was safe. All these people had to have done something wrong, right? That was all self-preservation. If these weren't random acts of violence, then I would always be safe as long as I behaved. But in what other profession is death the price of "misbehaving"? As I've matured, I've gained deeper insights into the responsibilities of a lawyer. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on advocating for minorities unfairly targeted by the justice system. Before transitioning into private practice, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations, recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it. Too many Black lives are thrown away because they aren't given the privilege of perceived innocence. So I intend to properly defend and advocate for Black individuals in the justice system. I am writing today in light of the recent news about Sonya Massey's tragic murder. While her killer has been charged, real justice would have been Sonya being alive today. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. Rather than relying on reactive measures, our country needs to address the root causes of systemic oppression, which are ingrained in its foundation. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to develop laws and frameworks that proactively prevent such egregious acts of violence. It's time to move away from waiting for unwilling martyrs to demand justice. True justice prioritizes prevention over punishment. True justice relies on empathy.

I often feel disgusted with the way the media chooses to portray Black tragedy. There is an overwhelming lack of empathy in the methodically detached approach news reporters use to report these stories. A father gunned down by the police will have his mugshot distributed. An image of a mother partying is circulated, only to find out she was a victim of a brazen attack. Instead of highlighting the humanity of the victims, the media often chooses images unrelated to the events, perpetuating the narrative that Black people are responsible for their deaths. A mentality that utterly disregards empathy when confronted with perpetual violence that Black people face at the hands of a society that has been programmed not to register their pain. I was ten years old when I saw the mugshot of a dead Sandra Bland. The image has been seared in my head ever since. At ten years old, Sandra Bland's case made me want to be a lawyer. Though Bland was roughly the same age as my mom, I saw myself in her. Sandra Bland cooperated with the officer until his demands exceeded what was necessary for a routine traffic stop. When he asked her to put out her cigarette, she questioned his request. Her act of questioning his authority seemed to anger him, leading to a confrontation and her forced removal from the vehicle. Due to the lapses in the footage, the true events of that stop may never be uncovered. Three days later, Bland was found hanging in her cell. I used to believe that if I was educated enough and did all the right things, then I was safe. All these people had to have done something wrong, right? Now I can recognize that this was all self-preservation. If these weren't random acts of violence, then I would always be safe as long as I behaved. But in what other profession is death the price of "misbehaving"? As I've matured, I've gained deeper insights into the responsibilities of a lawyer. After completing my studies at my current university, I intend to pursue a law degree. My goal is to specialize as a criminal justice lawyer, focusing on advocating for minorities unfairly targeted by the legal system. Before transitioning into private practice, I plan to contribute my skills to non-profit organizations, recognizing that those who most need my assistance often lack the means to afford it. Too many Black lives are thrown away because they aren't given the privilege of innocence. I will work to properly defend and advocate for Black individuals in the justice system. I am writing today in light of the recent news about Sonya Massey's tragic murder. While her killer has been charged, real justice would have been Sonya being alive today. My ultimate career aspiration is to serve as a justice on the Supreme Court. Rather than relying on reactive measures, our country needs to address the root causes of systemic oppression, which are ingrained in its foundation. In this role, I hope to not only address systemic issues but also collaborate with my fellow justices to develop laws and frameworks that proactively prevent such egregious acts of violence. It's time to move away from waiting for unwilling martyrs to demand justice. True justice prioritizes prevention over punishment. True justice relies on empathy.