Question 1. I will attend UC Berkeley Law this Fall. Question 2. From leaving sixth period early for leadership duties to completing high school asynchronously in favor of spending more hours volunteering, I spent a lot of time cultivating my skills and knowledge through impactful experiences outside a traditional classroom. My love of learning was rarely about the subject matter and more about using it to make a tangible impact, a pattern which held true during my undergraduate education as I explored different career paths. In my freshman year, for example, an environmental non-profit contracted with me to produce social media posts. I didn’t find the work fulfilling until their staff attorney asked if I could rewrite the bullet points in my educational posts as a memo to the governor. Realizing that I enjoyed and had a knack for explaining science and policy in an approachable manner, I began building this skill. I wrote and published an analysis on an ongoing water rights controversy, focusing on highlighting underrepresented water users, and published it in UC Davis’ Prized Writing Journal. This project not only honed my writing abilities but also deepened my understanding of environmental law's applications and limitations. Subsequently, I joined a research project where I served the dual roles of informing the team about novel clean energy technologies and interviewing policymakers about equity in their development plans. These experiences not only reinforced my interest in environmental policy and law but also helped me define a rewarding career as one where I could improve information accessibility, promote environmental justice, and leave the world better than I found it. Question 3. While leading a research project for a non-profit one summer, I arrived at the office Monday morning to discover that the organization had implemented new policies that blatantly targeted the youth volunteers. They were banned from the break room, had to direct issues through a system that offered no privacy, and would soon be required to pay a $500 seasonal fee. When I approached my supervisor about these changes, she reinforced harmful stereotypes about teenagers and told me to ignore the changes since they did not apply to me. I was initially hesitant to speak up, fearing it might jeopardize my research, publication, and professional references. However, I couldn't ignore the far-reaching consequences of these policies, which not only created a hostile work environment for the teenagers but also damaged the morale of the entire volunteer program. Hoping I could change the department’s mind, I co-authored a letter urging leadership to reconsider the fee. I argued that $500 would disproportionately exclude low-income teens from experiential learning opportunities and potentially bar passionate, dedicated applicants from participating. Within days, my supervisor called me in and suspended my project, citing that I had exceeded the boundaries of my role. While giving up my research broke my heart, I refused to retract my letter. I'm proud to have stood by my values and spoken out against the unjust policies. As one of many volunteers who subsequently withdrew our time and effort from the organization because of those policies, I am left with the confidence that I will always prioritize integrity and empathy in my work. Question 4. If I had the resources, I would scale-up the project incubator I founded to assist student-led projects. In high school, I was privy to the ins and outs of dozens of peers’ failed projects and I strongly believe that the critical issue was that the proponents lacked support. With this in mind, I launched an incubator in 2020 to help participants research an issue of their choice, workshop ideas, and brainstorm steps to execute a project. Behind the scenes, my team scrambles to locate materials, garner donations, and form partnerships to supply resources at reduced rates. The project proposals—food drives and litter pick ups, senior center craft nights, kid-friendly fire safety and mental health activities, stroke awareness training, bracelets for cancer patients, and more—have surpassed my expectations and made me all the more determined to empower more young leaders. If I had the resources, I would revamp the project management guides, launch a satellite program to invest in projects outside my local area, provide mentors a stipend for their time, and relax the budget limitations on individual projects. By doing so, the incubator would not only provide more resources to bring students’ ideas to life but also expand the community of changemakers who are equipped with the problem-solving, teamwork, and communication skills needed to tackle complex issues.

In high school, I volunteered at the Don Edwards National Wildlife Refuge. There, I helped plant Spartina foliosa with fingers numbed by the cold, surveyed the extent of Alectoria sarmentosa as I waded through mud and set up irrigation wires as rain pelted my jacket and egrets stalked nearby. I had always loved looking for the glint of the SF Bay through the fog and running down the beaches, but it was here at Don Edwards that I truly fell in love with the ocean and the vast diversity of ecosystems that surround it. Four years later as a senior studying Environmental Policy at the University of California, Davis, our oceans still have a special place in my heart. My long-term goal is to study environmental law and, perhaps not surprisingly, my primary interest lies in water policy. Recently, I had the opportunity to delve into this topic by analyzing the ongoing Yurok Tribe, et al. v. United States Bureau of Reclamation case. Writing my analysis ultimately required knowledge of water and species protection laws, management plans, and environmental justice. However, at its core, the case was a complex science question, requiring a fundamental understanding of water flow, pollutant dispersion rates, chemical interactions, and ecological cascades. I also wrote a policy brief for kelp forest restoration off the California coast, an endeavor that involved compiling environmental restoration studies from around the world, remote sensing maps, and presenting my policy suggestions in a concise two-page document. These two challenging tasks were gratifying, as I was able to produce works that demonstrated the complexity of water policy while also breaking down the information for a broader audience. Going forward, by continuing to combine my science and policy knowledge, my goal is to facilitate collaboration between stakeholders to promote conservation. Throughout my university experience, I have also been involved in environmental work outside of academics. I got to further explore the biology and hydrology aspects of water policy when I contracted with a water advocacy organization and helped them research and design a series of water conservation education posts. I also joined the Sierra Club Young Adult Advisory Board and several environmental clubs on campus. Additionally, this summer I am very excited to volunteer as a researcher with a conservation non-profit for which my role is to read theoretical literature and test the conclusions in real life to improve conservation messaging and engagement. Working at Don Edwards greatly influenced my love of the ocean because I had the rare opportunity to visit healthy, biodiverse sites under strict protection by the state and careful minding by an army of scientists and volunteers. I aim to ensure that marine ecosystems stay healthy enough to continue inspiring future generations with the wonder of the natural world. I know my degree in Environmental Policy and my future career in environmental law will equip me with the necessary tools and knowledge to help protect our oceans. Through my work, I want to advocate for policies that preserve marine habitats, mitigate climate change impacts, and promote sustainable uses of ocean resources, and by working towards these goals, I aim to ensure that future generations will have access to healthy marine ecosystems that provide invaluable benefits to our planet. Thank you for taking the time to consider my application!

As a kid, being a second-generation Chinese-American meant frantically paging through two reference guides in my head--“How to be Chinese” and “American 101”–only to find missing pages and mix up the texts completely. I never felt I fit in anywhere I stood and I often thought of my ethnicity as a burden. In fact, I can summarize my childhood understanding of Asian American life in three parts: my parents’ scorn for superstition, the struggle of learning Mandarin in an English-speaking household, and the debate tournament in which my opponents argued allowing a Chinese “model minority” to compete was unfair. However, my perception of my identity started to change when I found one niche in which I finally fit: cheling class. Afternoon cheling, or Chinese yo-yo, classes solely motivated me through my morning Mandarin lessons. I fell in love with the moving logic puzzle I saw each trick as, and though at first I just watched and mimicked what my teacher showed me, eventually I understood some of the language by hearing words and phrases in context. Even more helpful, I joined the demonstration team later that year and spent up to twenty-six hours a weekend practicing, traveling, and performing with a bilingual team. My teammates helped me understand the cultural context behind every event at which we performed, quietly translated presentations, and most importantly, introduced me to yuanxiao and other festival foods. I am always grateful to my friends for patiently answering my questions and extending their camaraderie when I made mistakes, and so I do my best to pay forward their kindness similarly. During performances, I hope to give other Chinese-American youth a moment where they see someone who looks like them on stage. The rest of the time I'm at an event, I often work at a booth or workshop where I invite attendees to try Chinese yo-yo. Many people will try once and hand back my sticks out of embarrassment, but since anyone who walks away at that moment likely won’t have another chance to try a hobby in which they could end up being interested, I’ll quickly give them a specific tip and encourage them to try one more time. In addition to first-time learners, I’ve met many people who shared how they watched or played Chinese yo-yo as a child before coming to America, and I love seeing their excitement when they play with one again and teach me new tricks. I loved teaching at events so much, I later began volunteering as the assistant coach for my demonstration team. Nearly every weekend for seven years, I choreographed showcases for cultural events across California and taught K-12 students: I’d give a hug to a student who had a bad day in school, perspective to another who was not advancing as quickly as they wanted, and suggestions for a new skill to a student bored with practicing the same tricks. With these small interactions, I want to show the person I’m working with that I don’t mind giving them individual attention and adjusting my lessons for them. My experiences volunteering with the team led to my decisions to start a cheling class at my old elementary school, produce YouTube tutorials during COVID-19, perform a series of charity shows, participate in a virtual international cultural exchange, and stay listed as the team’s on-call substitute coach when I moved for college. Still, above all, the nearly eighty events I helped with as assistant coach will always collectively constitute the service project with the greatest meaning to me. The exhausting weekend rehearsals and long nights of choreography shaped my cultural identity, leadership, and passion for service. Not only that, but through my years of coaching, I eventually realized the constant frustration I had felt as a child is a shared experience amongst many children of immigrants, and I will forever be thankful for the opportunity to have created safe spaces for other young Asian-Americans. As for “How to be Chinese” and “American 101,” they have been set to the side. I don’t need either of them to tell me how to be Chinese-American now that I have an ever-expanding collection of personal experiences to guide me perfectly well.

About two years ago, I started volunteering at the Oakland Zoo's palm oil information table. There, I asked a senior volunteer: “What specific changes make palm oil qualify as sustainable?” Interestingly, neither of us could come up with a clear set of criteria, so I became curious. When the first few articles Google offered up did not answer my question either, I unknowingly began a long-term project on how I can help make palm oil more economically and environmentally sustainable. I focused on palm oil because it is the most produced vegetable oil globally, and it appears in about half of all consumable products. Further, environmental and human rights organizations have drawn attention to problems in the industry, including air, soil, and water pollution; child labor and debt trafficking; mass deforestation; and the forcible displacement of rural communities and indigenous groups. Scientists often communicate with jargon, poor engagement, and an assumption of a “knowledge deficiency,” so I addressed the communication barrier first. I thought about how I could creatively share what I had so far learned in my research, interviews, and conferences, and in 2020, I created a presentation for the Oakland Zoo, eventually recording a video of it as well. In 2021, I wrote my first article (“The Oil Everyone Doesn’t Know They’re Obsessed With”) with help from UC Davis graduate students as editors, and I published it on the UC Davis' Animal Behavior Graduate Group's website. Now, in 2022, I have started delivering persuasive speeches, my first being a presentation to my local Rotary area where I applied their "Rotary 4-way Test" to the palm oil industry. One solvency I advocate for is checking the labels on products. A common misconception is that the solution to a problem is a universal boycott, but the palm oil industry is so massive and integral, a boycott would at best, be ineffective, and at worst, destroy an industry that supports millions of impoverished workers. Rather, consumers can uplift companies that do treat their workers, community, and environment with respect by looking for products marked “Certified Sustainable Palm Oil,” “Green Palm Sustainability,” or “Rainforest Alliance Certified” to make sure their money goes to vetted sustainable companies. This allows the public to deal with an everyday problem with a simple, everyday action. Another strategy I highlight is legislation because "certified sustainable" labels are beneficial, but not perfect; non-governmental organizations do not have enforcement power, and most do not have enough staff to regularly check the facilities they have certified. However, a bill introduced in the House of Representatives could resolve this. H.R.5863, or the “End Palm Oil Deforestation Act,” would create a public forum on palm oil sustainability criteria. The Department of Agriculture would then work with the Secretary of State and Environmental Protection Agency to finalize the criteria, and apply them to future U.S. palm oil imports and investments, a collective effort that would give multiple parties input on the standards. Palm oil sustainability is a topic I will continue pursuing in college. One idea that fascinated me was using yeast to produce synthetic palm oil, and I would like to intern with a company like C16 Biosciences that uses this process, or Impossible Foods, which uses a similar process to produce the blood-mimicking heme in their product. I also want to explore what steps increase the chance of a policy change being effective, and learn how I can employ different communication strategies to convey information to consumers. Finally, I will continue volunteering in conservation education. I love encouraging kids' questions, especially since I never know when something might spark their curiosity.

Someone once told me the opposite of stress is hope, but I’d argue gratitude is. When someone holds a door for me, for example, it doesn’t matter if I’m late or worried about what room I’m supposed to go to; in that instant, I can’t help but appreciate how someone gave a stranger some of their time. Giving is important to me because it inherently requires empathy, kindness, and humanity, qualities the world needs more of. I give back through my leadership in several organizations, but I’ll always have a special appreciation for the impact I have through diabolo. When I’m teaching someone at a fair, they will often try once and hand back my sticks out of embarrassment. Anyone who walks away in that moment likely won’t have another chance to try a hobby they might end up being interested in, so I’ll quickly give them a specific tip and encourage them to try one more time. In eighth grade, I started teaching diabolo twice a week. This came with new challenges, but I take the same approach: I’ll give a hug to a student who had a bad day in school, perspective to another who isn’t advancing as quickly as they want, and suggestions for a new skill to a student bored with practicing the same tricks. With these short interactions, I want to share a part of my culture and also show the person I’m working with that I don’t mind giving them individual attention. Whether they got the prop to spin for ten seconds or put together a choreography, every person I’ve taught has accomplished something. I hope each individual recognizes their achievement and walks away with a little more confidence that there are people in the world who will unconditionally offer their support.