I have various goals that motivate me every day. My ultimate goal is to earn a PhD and teach philosophy. While teaching philosophy is my own personal goal because I hope to have a job that I enjoy, my desire in earning a PhD is for my family as well. For the last few generations, the women on my mother's side of my family have succeeded in breaking barriers. My grandmother was the first woman in her family to graduate from secondary school. She also attempted to attend college, but she dropped out after she became pregnant. My mother attended college and earned a degree to teach primary school in Syria (I believe the closest equivalent would be an associate's degree in the U.S.). She taught until her late 20s, which is when she had me. Currently, all of her daughters are attending college and planning to earn a higher degree than what she earned. However, I am the only one out of all my siblings planning on pursuing a PhD. If I earn a PhD, I will be the first person in my family to ever earn a PhD. Knowing that keeps me motivated, because my accomplishment would be shared with my family members. I am very fortunate to have family members that support my goals. My mother is always encouraging me to keep pursuing my bachelor's degree, even though I'm a little behind compared to my peers. My siblings and I have been offering each other advice while attending college. My husband helps me every day so that I can get a little closer to achieving my dreams. Having clear goals motivates me, but the support I receive from my family also enables me to pursue those goals.

Confidence is raising your hand in class to ask your professor a question. Confidence is walking into a classroom without the paranoia that everyone is judging you. Confidence is advocating for yourself when the registrar makes a mistake. Confidence is going to office hours without feeling anxious the whole time. Confidence is knowing that you do in fact belong at your school. Confidence is difficult, especially for a women of color like me. I've spent my whole life letting people tell me that I'm too loud when I laugh or I'm too awkward when I walk. I didn't stand up for myself when people critiqued my body shape, my hair, or my nose. People told me I wasn't smart enough; I wasn't smart enough to be identified as 'gifted,' nor was I smart enough to take honors courses. I was even told that I wasn't smart enough to apply to the top universities. For a long time, I believed them. I wish I didn't listen to any of those voices back then. I can only wonder what would have happened if I had been more confident. For me, moving out of my hometown was the best decision I ever made. Once I left, those voices telling me that I wasn't good enough faded away. After a few years of working and attending community college, I gained some confidence. Gradually, I practiced putting myself out there. I asked questions; I walked into classrooms confidently; I learned to advocate for myself; and I went to office hours. Eventually, I overcame my impostor syndrome. I am much more confident now, thriving in school and successfully hitting goals that seemed so far away not so long ago.

The biggest problem the world is facing right now is climate change. Climate change disproportionately affects people who live in poverty around the globe. Considering that the majority of greenhouse emissions come from the riches countries in the world, it seems incredibly unfair that those who are already suffering will continue to be disproportionately affected by climate change. Sadly, the poorest people in the world also happen to have darker skin tones, reinforcing environmental racism. Unfortunately, we are already seeing the effects of environmental racism, even in the United States. Power outages are more common in poverty-dense areas, leaving residents vulnerable to extreme temperatures. Chemicals constantly pollute the poorest communities, significantly reducing their chances of survival. People who cannot afford to move away from coastal areas that are impacted by record-breaking hurricanes lose their homes and all their belongings. Recently, we've seen what happens to workers who cannot afford to lose their jobs and seek shelter during terrifyingly strong tornadoes. The worst is yet to come. Corporations must do more to reduce their greenhouse emissions, and we also need to learn to be less wasteful. Our individual ecological footprints are massive. If we do not act now, humanity will be at risk of extinction. We will not have a future.

If I could share one sentence with the world, it would be the following: "It's okay to have gaps in your education." Often times, I feel somewhat out of place in my classes because I'm older than the majority of my classmates, and there are cases where I'm just about the same age as the TA teaching the class. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if I'm too old for college, which is ridiculous; after all, I'm only 22! The reality is that many students are fortunate to have the means to go straight to college after graduating high school. I was not one of those fortunate students. Due to my personal financial circumstances, I have had gaps in my education. Or, there have been times when I have chosen to attend college part time and work full time to pay my rent and bills. As much as enjoy my classes and meeting new people, I usually feel out of place in college. For some of my classmates, their biggest worry might be finding a date to an upcoming social event. Contrarily, my biggest worry might be paying the latest ER bill. Despite the gaps in my education, I have been able to overcome a multitude of barriers because I have a goal to work towards. There are times where I feel frustrated because I have to limit the number of credits I'm taking in an upcoming semester because I don't have enough money; other times, I've had to withdraw from classes due to health reasons. But, I know that I can achieve my goal, no matter how difficult it may seem. The gaps in my education have only made me more determined to succeed.

One of my favorite artists is Artemisia Gentileschi, who was an Italian Baroque painter. Some of her paintings are gruesome, such as the famous "Judith Slaying Holofernes". Yet, as gruesome as the painting is, I find myself unable to look away. I'm absolutely fascinated by her work, and I think she's inspiring; after all, she was a courageous, female painter who managed to make her art memorable.

From a young age, I knew I suffered from depression. In fact, I remember telling my parents in elementary school (very seriously) that I wanted to take my own life. But, they simply laughed at me. Afterwards, I rarely discussed my own mental health issues with my biological family members. For years, I attempted to make the best of my situation. I tried to ignore the negative feelings by drowning myself in school work and participating in a myriad of extracurriculars. The day that I knew something had to change was when my mother attempted suicide. I was only 14 years old when the incident occurred. It was a terrifying experience, and I could barely keep myself together for the sake of my younger siblings. Afterwards, my mother treated the incident as inconsequential and refused to seek further care. For me, though, it was a wake up call. I vowed to treat my issues as best as I could, and went on to seek therapy for myself. Across the world, stigma surrounding mental health has prevented people from seeking necessary treatment. Even my parents, Syrian immigrants that have lived in the U.S. for around two decades, are no exception. Their fear of social ostracization and being labelled as “crazy” have discouraged any notion of seeking treatment. However, the stigma surrounding mental health needs to end. I’ve dedicated my time to checking in on friends (even if they’re not close friends) to make sure they’re doing okay. I want people to know that they’re not alone, and help is there if they need it. I believe that small actions can make a big difference, so I always try my best to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health and treatment when possible.

My mother used to say an Arabic proverb to me often growing up, and I think about it often when something minor goes wrong. The approximate English translation is, “When you get older, you won’t remember this.” She would say it fairly often, like when I fell and had cuts on my knees, or when I was sad because I had the flu and couldn’t go to school. It was a quote that me and my younger siblings had become accustomed to hearing at a young age. Oddly enough, I didn’t forget all of those little details -- but that’s not how I interpreted the saying. Having cut up knees certainly felt like a huge problem back then. Yet, these days I can laugh at the memory when I think of how clumsy I used to be. Those minor, everyday problems are often temporary, so there’s no use dwelling on them. Soon, they’ll just become minor memories that will occasionally cross my mind.

I have spent much of my life struggling to love myself. I knew from a young age that I was different from most of my peers, and I was bullied because of it. On top of all that, I was raised in a household where my parents had strong “traditional” religious values. It was very difficult for me to explore, learn, and grow. After I graduated high school and turned 18, I ran away from home. I had a very strained relationship with my mother, so I decided that becoming independent would be my best course of action. I moved in with my future husband and mother-in-law in Cleveland, and then moved to Saint Paul with my husband, who was planning to attend Macalester College. I worked an average of 60 hours per week in order to save up money for college. Using the money I saved, as well as grants and scholarships available to DACA students in Minnesota, I enrolled at a local community college. While I attended community college, I quickly realized that the Twin Cities were far more politically liberal compared to Youngstown, Ohio. I encountered terms I had never heard of, like “non-binary”, “pansexual”, “asexual”, and so on. Learning more about the LGBTQ+ community inspired me to re-evaluate my own identity. Eventually, I came out as pansexual to my friends and closest family members, and soon after I realized that I preferred both she/her and they/them pronouns. I’ve never felt more free in my entire life, and I’m thankful to have some supportive friends and family members. All these experiences helped me to learn to love myself. I think the best thing I can do to make a difference in the social realm around LGBTQ+ awareness and positivity is to start with the people around me. As aforementioned, my mother is not very supportive of the LGBTQ+ community. Unfortunately, my youngest sibling, Lianna, is only 5 years younger than me, but he has been struggling with our mother’s need for control over the past few years. I’m proud of him for having the courage to tell her that he’s trans. The best I can do for him is support him from afar, mediate arguments related to his gender, and offer him help if he decides to become independent (like me) when turns 18 next year. I plan to continue to offer support to anyone I know who needs it. I hope that one day, we’ll be able to change the minds of those who strictly adhere to their “traditional” values, and replace those values with more inclusive ones.

Back when I was a high school senior applying to colleges in the 2016 - 2017 school year, I knew the odds were stacked against me. I was a Syrian immigrant who had an ongoing asylum case (which has still not been resolved), so I wasn’t eligible for any federal aid or loans. To top it off, my family didn’t have the money they needed to pay for my college education. In fact, I struggled to pay fees for various extracurricular activities I participated in. I knew that I had no way to pay for state college tuition (in Ohio, I was considered an “international student” and wasn’t eligible for large scholarships), so I applied mainly to “elite” colleges that offered large amounts of aid. In the end, I was never accepted into any of those colleges. I had no choice but to take a gap year. After I graduated high school and turned 18, I ran away from home. I had a very strained relationship with my mother, so I decided that becoming independent would be best. I moved in with my future husband and mother-in-law, and then moved to Saint Paul with my husband, who was attending Macalester College. I worked 60 hour weeks in order to save up money for college. Using the money I saved, as well as grants and scholarships available to DACA students in Minnesota, I enrolled at a local community college. I’m transferring to Columbia’s School of General Studies to continue pursuing my career goal. My goal is to earn a PhD in Philosophy, teach at the university level, and work to diversify the field of Philosophy. By teaching at the university level, I plan to use my contributions (published argument, essays, and activism to increase engagement with Philosophy among young students) as tools to diversify the field, and I’d like to create a welcoming, accessible environment so that more people can choose to learn about Philosophy and enjoy it. I know that I have the passion and intellect to achieve my goals; unfortunately, achieving my educational and career goals requires a lot of time and money. While I’m thankful to have the opportunity to transfer and attend a prestigious university with a decent financial aid package, I’ll still have educational expenses that I will either have to pay out of pocket or take out additional private loans. I’m worried that the loans I’m already taking out will prove to be an insurmountable obstacle. I don’t want to take anymore time off from college because of finances, or ultimately decide not to attend a graduate program because of the potential costs. I am determined, hard-working, and I have a clear goal to work towards. Scholarships will help me cover my educational expenses this year as I ultimately work towards my goal of becoming a professor and helping to diversify the field of Philosophy.

When I first started at Saint Paul College, I took a Philosophy course (Ethics). I fell in love with Philosophy, and after a few more courses, I decided to major in it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it; I simply knew that I wanted to continue studying Philosophy. After earning my Associate’s degree, I transferred to Macalester College for the Fall 2020 semester. There, I joined the Ethics Bowl team. I enjoyed developing arguments for current ethics issues, and I found the collaboration enjoyable. However, I noticed something important: the majority of my teammates had never taken a Philosophy course. At first, I was confused as I had enjoyed every Philosophy course I had taken at SPC. Why wouldn’t people who were clearly interested in Ethics, a branch of Philosophy, take Ethics courses? But, when I attempted a Philosophy course at Macalester, the answer became clear to me: Philosophy isn’t always accessible to everyone. It’s a field dominated by old, white men who aren’t always open to “non-traditional” thinking (which seems somewhat contradictory considering that “Philosophy” literally means “love of wisdom”). So, I decided that I want to teach Philosophy. My goal is to earn a PhD in Philosophy, teach at the university level, and work to diversify the field of Philosophy. While I would like to see a more diverse field, diversity shouldn’t exist just in the form of appearances. It’s important to diversify the field of philosophy as people from different backgrounds can bring fresh, new ideas to further the field. Additionally, the lack of minorities and women indicates that Philosophy isn’t accessible to a lot of people, something that needs to change. Philosophy also affects people every day, although most may not realize it. I am particularly interested in ethics and applying it to everyday situations. Thus, it is even more important that women and minorities have a space to articulate their arguments so that the predominant “privileged white men” in the field don’t continue to create principles that inaccurately govern how people ought to live. By teaching at the university level, I plan to use my contributions (published argument, essays, and activism to increase engagement with Philosophy among young students) as tools to diversify the field, and I’d like to create a welcoming, accessible environment so that more people can choose to learn about Philosophy and enjoy it. I know that I have the passion and intellect to achieve my goals; unfortunately, achieving my educational and career goals requires a lot of time and money. While I’m thankful to have the opportunity to transfer and attend a prestigious university (Columbia University’s School of General Studies) with a decent financial aid package, I’ll still have educational expenses that I will either have to pay out of pocket or take out additional private loans. I’m worried that the loans I’m already taking out will prove to be an insurmountable obstacle. I don’t want to take anymore time off from college because of finances, or ultimately decide not to attend a graduate program because of the potential costs. I am determined, hard-working, and I have a clear goal to work towards. A $1,000 scholarship will help me cover my educational expenses this year as I ultimately work towards my goal of becoming a professor and helping to diversify the field of Philosophy.

I think my biggest achievement is getting accepted into an Ivy League program. But, to fully understand why that is my greatest accomplishment, I ought to explain some of the most significant events leading up to it. Back when I was a high school senior applying to colleges in the 2016 - 2017 school year, I knew the odds were stacked against me. I was a Syrian immigrant who had an ongoing asylum case (which has still not been resolved), so I wasn’t eligible for any federal aid or loans. To top it off, my family didn’t have the money they needed to pay for my college education. In fact, I struggled to pay fees for various extracurricular activities I participated in. I knew that I had no way to pay for state college tuition (in Ohio, I was considered an “international student” and wasn’t eligible for large scholarships), so I applied mainly to “elite” colleges that offered large amounts of aid. In the end, I was never accepted into any of those colleges. I had no choice but to take a gap year. After I graduated high school and turned 18, I ran away from home. I had a very strained relationship with my mother, so I decided that becoming independent would be my best course of action. I moved in with my future husband and mother-in-law, and then moved to Saint Paul with my husband, who was planning to attend Macalester College. I worked an average of 60 - 70 hours per week in order to save up money for college. Using the money I saved, as well as grants and scholarships available to DACA students in Minnesota, I enrolled at a local community college. While I attended Saint Paul College part time and worked full time, I fell in love with Philosophy. I decided that I wanted to major in the subject. With the help of my professor, I applied to various Twin Cities colleges as I prepared to transfer. I was accepted into Macalester College and attended the school during the Fall 2020 semester. Unfortunately, the school was not a good fit for me, and the Philosophy undergraduate program left something to be desired. I chose to permanently withdraw and apply to colleges outside of Minnesota. After months of lengthy applications, I was accepted into Columbia University’s School of General Studies. Initially, I was thrilled. Then, I worried about the cost of attendance. I had only recently received my green card, so I wasn’t sure what kind of financial aid package to expect. Thankfully, there was enough scholarship money and loans that my husband and I made the decision to move to NYC so that I could attend Columbia. Being accepted into Columbia has also forced me to reflect on my life goals and future prospects. While I attend Columbia, I intend to continue volunteering with a local food shelf and participate in various extracurriculars. I’m hoping to find a position as a tutor so that I can gain some more teaching experience over the next couple years. My goal is to earn a PhD in Philosophy and teach at the university level. Philosophy is a very un-diverse field, and I’d like to work to make the field more accessible to traditionally underrepresented groups. I am excited, but I am simultaneously facing a lot of financial stress. At the end of the summer, I won’t even have enough money saved to cover my out-of-pocket educational expenses, much less my loans. Moving to NYC will be expensive, and my husband will have his hands full trying to pay for our living expenses. I’ve already worked so hard to get where I am, and I don’t want my status as a low-income student to hold me back anymore. A scholarship will be immensely helpful as I continue to work diligently to achieve my goals.

When I think of everything that ought to change in the world, I tend to get overwhelmed. There’s so many problems I want to fix, but I am only one person. So, what I’ve been doing recently is trying to get involved in my local community. One of the biggest issues that I’ve noticed is that more and more people are facing food insecurity. The issue has only gotten worse as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic. I wanted to help, but I never had time since I was always working long hours while attending college. When I permanently withdrew from Macalester College in December, I resolved to volunteer at a local food shelf as often as I could. I started volunteering at the Keystone Food Shelf on Rice Street in the Twin Cities beginning around February. Since then, I’ve been volunteering for at least one three-hour shift per week. Volunteering at one of the many food shelves that have helped me is my way of giving back. As someone who has faced food insecurity, job loss, reduced hours, and various illnesses it’s nice to know that I can support other people who are in similar (or worse) circumstances. When people initially come into Keystone, I can visibly see the stress that they’re under, especially mothers and grandmothers who need to provide for children. These situations often remind me of the times when I visited food shelves with my mother. I do my best to make them feel comfortable since visiting food shelves can feel shameful. I’m always eager to help, and I like to offer foods that are good for larger families with children (i.e. cookie platters, large fruit trays, popsicles, etc.). I can tell that I’ve made a difference when people leave and are visibly happy. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to make people happy when there’s a significant lack of donations. I’ve talked to various long-term volunteers and site managers, and it’s clear that there’s significantly less donations compared to last summer. People were initially eager to donate in order to help their local community during the pandemic; that is not the case anymore. During these past few weeks I’ve volunteered, there are rarely any diapers to give out to mothers, the off-brand cereals we have are not all that appealing to young children, and we’re constantly running out of refrigerated items (salad mixes, yogurt, fresh berries, etc.) in the afternoon. It’s frustrating to see that the things that families need or want are rarely available. I’d like to purchase and donate items that are needed, but I’m stuck saving literally every penny for when I transfer to Columbia University School of General Studies. I’ve been brainstorming and trying to figure out what I can do, and I plan to try and raise awareness in online community groups like Nextdoor and Facebook. When I move to NYC, I expect to continue volunteering at local food shelves so that I can continue to help alleviate food insecurity at the local level.

My mother and grandmother are the greatest inspirations in my life. My maternal grandmother was the first female in her family to complete her secondary education, which is a huge feat since many women in Syria drop out of school. In fact, my great-aunts never completed their secondary education, and my paternal grandmother never even attended school and didn’t know how to read. My maternal grandmother attempted college after getting married at 18 years old, but ended up dropping out of school. My mother, on the other hand, managed to complete a two-year college program that allowed her to teach young students in Syria. But, after she got married, she stopped working. Women, especially in the Middle East and Northern Africa, are actively discouraged from pursuing an education and having a career. My goal is to defy the norms and live my life the way I want to. My goal is to earn a PhD in Philosophy and teach at the university level. Philosophy isn’t a very diverse field, and I want to help diversify the field by making it more accessible to women and minorities. Unfortunately, achieving my educational and career goals requires a lot of time and money. While I’m thankful to have the opportunity to transfer and attend a prestigious university (Columbia University School of General Studies) with a decent financial aid package, I’ll still have educational expenses that I will either have to pay out of pocket or take out additional private loans. I’m worried that the loans I’m already taking out will prove to be an insurmountable obstacle. I don’t want to take anymore time off from college because of finances, or ultimately decide not to attend a graduate program because of the potential costs. I am determined, hard-working, and I have a clear goal to work towards. A $5,000 scholarship will help me cover my educational expenses this year as I ultimately work towards my goal of becoming a professor and helping to diversify the field of Philosophy.

I have a history of mental health issues that I am no longer afraid to share. I currently suffer from an anxiety disorder, and I am seeking treatment again. In the past, I have suffered from depression and PTSD, which still affects me even today. From a young age, I knew I suffered from depression. In fact, I remember telling my parents in elementary school (very seriously) that I wanted to take my own life. I had tears running down my face as I held a kitchen knife in my hand. But, they simply laughed and took the knife away from me. From that point on, I rarely discussed my own mental health issues with my biological family members. For years, I attempted to make the best of my situation. I tried to ignore the negative feelings by drowning myself in school work and participating in a myriad of extracurriculars. The day that I knew something had to change was when my mother attempted suicide. I was only 14 years old when the incident occurred. It was a terrifying experience, and I could barely keep myself together. As the eldest child, I was like another parent to my siblings. I did my best to give them the love and support they needed during the difficult time. Afterwards, my mother treated the incident as inconsequential and refused to seek further care. For me, though, it was a wake up call. I vowed to treat my issues as best as I could, and went on to seek therapy for myself. Across the world, stigma surrounding mental health has prevented people from seeking necessary treatment. Even my parents, Syrian immigrants that have lived in the U.S. for around two decades, are no exception. Their fear of social ostracization and being labelled as “crazy” have discouraged any notion of seeking treatment. However, the stigma surrounding mental health needs to end. I’ve dedicated my time to checking in on friends (even if they’re not close friends) to make sure they’re doing okay. If they’re not, I’m always there to listen. I’m also very open about my experiences with mental health, including the fact that I have a mother who attempted suicide and an abusive father. I want people to know that they’re not alone, and help is there if they need it. I adamantly believe that small actions can make a big difference, so I always try my best to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health and treatment when possible.