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.