I didn’t know what it meant to be an “Oreo” until the 5th grade when a classmate made fun of me for sitting with my legs crossed, a habit I still haven’t grown out of seven years later. She told me that I looked like a white girl when my legs were crossed. Phone calls with my Nana are littered with her mocking what I say but in a much thicker Valley Girl accent. I’m not allowed to recommend movies or songs in my house because, “Madison, we all know you’re gonna put on that white people mess.” These comments are so regular that I can’t be surprised by them anymore, but I am angry. A low hum of frustration boils up my stomach, but a comeback never leaves my mouth. How can I respond when, throughout my life, my family, friends, and peers have only perceived me as superficially black? Black only in my coily hair. Black only in my skin tone. Black only in the double helices of my DNA. I was once hesitant to include my race in my creative work, not because I didn’t want to discuss what was going on in my community, but because I was afraid that I could never authentically portray the “real” black experience. I berated my ability to write black characters and stories because my “white girl voice” would shine through, or I’d portray a piece of my own culture inaccurately. However, after watching films like The Watermelon Woman by Cheryl Dunye and Get Out by Jordan Peele, I realized that everyone’s stories are distinctive, and their themes expressed themselves differently, but they still were the black experience. I brushed off the dust from the stones I cast on myself. I’d been reignited, determined to write stories I could be proud of no matter what others thought of me. I was determined to validate and empower the voices of anyone with an identity not regularly represented in the media. I’ll never be black enough according to the strict definition of what others claim black to be, and I’m happy with not conforming to someone else’s definition. Having grown up in Los Angeles, a melting pot of diverse backgrounds, cultures, and personalities, I’ve learned that conformity is stifling. I’m a unique blend of my home in Inglewood, high school in El Segundo, and summer camps in Gardena. I’m from The Getty just as much as I’m from the corner store up the street. I’m not an “Oreo”, and I’m proud that all of me, where I’m from, who I am, and where I’m going can’t fit between two chocolate cookies. With my unique identity, I’ll write shows and movies that feature a wide variety of perspectives and lived experiences. My creative versatility means that no one will be able to write stories like how I write them. To anyone struggling with feeling like their identity isn’t enough, I encourage them to look inside themselves and find what sets them apart. Fitting into a preconceived notion of what others expect you to be is never worth it. A culture, lifestyle, or way of life is only one part of who you are, and at the end of the day, there is no specific way to be a part of a community. As long as you stay authentic to your stories then you should never be ashamed of how you express your identity.

No other experience compares to watching your rock break down in pain because sitting in a chair makes her feel like her knees are tearing apart. My mom was diagnosed with Myasthenia Gravis, a muscle degenerative autoimmune disease, in December of 2021. Since then, it’s been a touch-and-go battle with doctors, treatments, medicines, and her self-esteem. I’d never felt completely helpless before my mom got sick because she was always there to support me. I didn’t have the power to take away her pain, physical or mental. What could I, a teenager with no medical experience, do to support my mom? I watched as she admonished her reflection in the mirror, picking at imperfections caused by illness. It seemed like all I could do was watch, powerless, as the mom I knew faded right in front of me. Then, I was given an assignment in journalism class: create a podcast about whatever you want. Immediately, I knew I wanted to do mine on my mom. I researched MG, wrote a script, and interviewed my entire family. Once I collected all of my interviews, I got to editing, splicing clips together to weave the best retelling of my mom’s story. I invested myself in hook, line, and sinker because although it was a heavy topic that required a new level of vulnerability for me, I felt connected to school in a way I hadn’t before. I had created a project I was genuinely proud of because I realized I could use my education to empower myself and my community. The podcast provided a space for my mom and I to talk openly about how her diagnosis has impacted our whole family, strengthening the bond we already had. I showed the entire world how I view my mom: perfect and resilient. I learned that as long as I had the ability to tell a story, I didn’t have to feel powerless. In the future, I will use my academic and creative endeavors to uplift marginalized voices that lie on the outskirts of the media we see most often. I intend to study screenwriting in college, and in the future start my own production company that focuses on telling stories intend to give power back to the voiceless. I'd tell the stories about the Black community that we want to be told, not the ones that others believe are indicative of our experiences. I want to tell stories for wanderers searching for the catharsis of knowing their feelings have been put into words. I intend to inspire a generation of storytellers and young people to realize the power of their voices and their experiences. Then, together we can make the changes we want to see in society.

I've been a writer my whole life, penning epic tales and dramatic scripts into notebooks since I can rememeber. Now, I'm putting my life-long passion into studying screenwriting at the University of Southern California. Although I've always been a writer, I didn’t fully know whose story I was writing until I worked on The Harlem Renaissance Remix, a musical about a teen discovering her artistic identity through the lens of the Harlem Renaissance. While researching, I scoured the internet for movies, books, or TV shows about the time period, but my results were a desert, an occasional weed tumbling through an otherwise abandoned wasteland. Though I couldn’t answer why there was so little media exploring a peak of Black artistry, I knew I had an opportunity to change that. So I wrote like my computer would be ripped away from me. For the first time, I wasn’t writing to fulfill just myself. I was writing to show my community that we matter, that our history is valuable and deserves to be put on stage, and I was going to be the one to do it. Since writing the Harlem Renaissance Remix, I've dedicated my writing career to being a voice for people without one. As I continue to explore my identity as a queer person, I write for other people still learning about themselves. I want my voice and what I have to say to serve as a beacon for others. With my education I want to expand my current writing skills. I want to make characters leap off the pages. I'm ready to delve into more complex themes and topics that are more accurate reflections and critiques of our world. I'm ready to take all of the ideas I have and put them towards inspiring change in the world. I want my words to resonate with people and cause them to make big shifts in their community. I write to help others make sense of the world. I write for people who are square pegs trying to fit in round holes. I write for people obsessed with philosophy and searching for answers to life’s biggest questions. I write for people who scream out their grievances and throw up their signs on the picket lines. I write for wanderers searching for the catharsis of knowing their feelings have been put into words. With my screenwriting education, I will ensure that I have the skill neccessary to do what I have set out to do. Now is only my beginning and with my education I will only continue to grow. Writing affirms myself, my identity, and my values, and in the future, I will use my art as a roadmap to help the next generations understand the world around them.

I will positively impact this world by telling stories that inspire thought and change. Though I love all forms of art, my passion lies in writing. No story can't be written; to me, nothing is more powerful than taking words and turning them into flourishing worlds and charming characters. I write mostly any form, including poetry, short stories, and novels, but I've decided to focus on my love of screen and playwriting for my future career endeavors. I love movies, shows, plays, and musicals that make you think for long winding hours. I want how I feel about the world to be challenged through the media I experience. As I've continued to grow as a person and writer, I've realized that's what I want my work to do as well. Some of the greatest revolutions, movements, and societal steps forward have occurred because of media that changed how people think. The greatest gift I can receive as a writer and artist is knowing that my work made someone stop and notice something about their life and society. I will explore topics like the exploitation of underrepresented communities, mental health, corruption, racism, and more. I will paint pictures with my words that express exactly what my readers feel. Powerful writing is far more than literary devices, dramatic metaphors, and flowery turns of phrases; it is that one line that makes the reader feel seen. I want to make enough people feel seen that they are inspired to make the changes we all want to see in society.

I've been a writer since I could pick up a pencil. My Nana recently gave me a binder full of stories I wrote when I was six. I wrote about flying pizzas and fables about talking lions. I had always dreamed of being an author. Once I got to fifth grade, I joined an afterschool program where I was allowed to write plays for the students to perform. I hadn't realized it then, but something clicked. Watching myself and others bring to life what I wrote in the computer lab was magical. Now as I begin the endeavor of figuring out what to do with my life, I've realized that writing to bring a story to life is what I want to do. I plan to major in creative writing or writing for screen and television. Once I complete undergraduate school, I want to focus on writing for stage and film. My ultimate goal is to be a writer and director on projects I poured my soul into for kids like me to feel attached to. I'm most passionate about piecing together an intriguing story. To me, writing feels like a puzzle or a riddle. Finding out where certain elements shift and lock into place is invigorating. I love uncovering how to make scenes work with a character's goals but also ensuring that the character is never handed what they want until the most climactic moment. Another part of my major, and college in general, I am passionate about is connecting with other screen and playwrights like me. I have mountains of ideas lying dormant in my mind because expressing them in means other than pen, and paper has always been challenging. Still, I wish to converse with people about everything. I imagine long, winding conversations with people from all walks of life that lead to pieces of wisdom I can transcribe into my art. I am engrossed by humanity; the best way to learn about people is to speak to them. I want these connections with my peers to help me grow as a person, which will allow me to grow as a writer. Though I'm committed to the path of screen and playwriting, it hasn't always been that way. Since I was young, I wanted to write novels. It was when I attended California State Summer School for the Arts last summer and decided to take screen and playwriting as my month-long focus on a whim that I realized it was the path for me. It reignited my fifth-grade passions and taught me the technical skills needed to hone my craft. I had never had so much fun writing before. I had a giant grin on my face for the entire four-hour class. I was behind in terms of skill, but I didn't even care because, in that room, I felt supported by my teacher and incredibly talented peers. By the end of the fastest four weeks of my life, I had a portfolio of short scripts, a comedy monologue, and a ten-page play. Despite switching career paths in a month, I'm confident about the future. I know that no matter what form I'm writing, I will be happy. What I'm most passionate about isn't the way I organize the story or what medium it's told through; it's the fact that I get to tell a story.