Education is the most powerful tool for breaking the cycle of intimate partner violence (IPV). IPV is fundamentally rooted in power dynamics, ignorance, and generational trauma. When people--especially young people--are educated about healthy relationships, boundaries, communication skills, consent, and emotional regulation, they are more likely to avoid unhealthy relationships and will be able to spot red flags early on. Education teaches people about their self-worth, gives them an understanding of how to communicate when they are uncomfortable, and provides important resources to gain access to safety and support. I learned first-hand from a very young age just how IPV can crush an individual’s spirit. A close family member of mine, my Aunt Sophie, had a relationship that was made up of mostly emotional manipulation and control, and while it may have looked “normal” to outsiders, it still ruined her spirit and sense of worth. For a long time I didn’t for have the courage or confidence to speak up about what I had been witnessing. I took my first psychology and sociology class in high school and everything changed for me. Those courses gave me clarity to see just how common IPV was and how often the victims of IPV are silenced. It gave me courage to speak up, it gave me tools to support my Aunt, and it gave me an insatiable ambition to make sure others do not feel like she did. I plan to graduate with a degree in Human Resources Management and a minor in Women’s and Gender Studies. While that may sound like an unusual pairing for my major, I see HR as an area with a unique opportunity to initiate systemic change, especially regarding how people relate to one another in a workspace, as well as for employee well-being. When IPV survivors return to work, they are often expected to “leave their trauma at the door,” which we know cannot happen in true healing. I want to be a voice in HR, advocating for trauma-informed practices, flexibility when requesting leave for those exiting abusive situations, and offering training in the workplace to promote awareness about IPV—not only in personal relationships, but how power and coercion could be present in workplaces. Outside of my job, I want to work directly with teens and young adults—especially girls—through mentorship or speaking opportunities. I want to share my journey and knowledge to show them what true love and respect actually looks like. I want them to know they do not have to shrink to feel safe, and they do not have to stay quiet to keep the peace. My education has already opened my eyes to the hard reality. Now I want to be the springboard for someone else. If we can invest in education that includes empathy, communication, and empowerment in under-resourced communities, we can interrupt cycles of violence before they even start. I personally believe that change starts when one person sees that they deserve more, and I want my story to be that extra push for people who wish to break the cycle of IPV.

As a senior in high school, I think about my past few years and realize how much volleyball has affected me—not just as an athlete or a student, but as a young woman learning to find my voice in our world that often puts men first. Volleyball did not just teach me how to win a volleyball game; it taught me how to take back my power in a world that sometimes tells girls to be quiet, to sit back, or let the men lead. Being a female athlete in a male-dominated world of sports has not always been easy. From boys' sports teams getting all the attention to better resources and roaring support, I watched as every time we won, were recognized, or fought for the respect of being an athlete we denigrated as "cute" or "lucky" instead of hard working. We trained just as many hours, and sometimes more than the boys. I say all this to stress that I could have been discouraged by that message. But I wasn't, in fact I was moved and inspired. Volleyball provided me with a place where I could become confident in my abilities and leadership. As a setter, I was responsible for directing plays, sending information, and controlling the game—all things I never thought I would be able to do when I started. I came to realize that strength is not always physical; it is also how you hold yourself, how you lead others, and how you stand tall while you are belittled. I’ve learned to keep my chin up when people don’t think I’m good enough, I’ve learned to speak with confidence even if my voice shakes, and I’ve learned to act on my beliefs with consistency and heart. The discipline, grit, and emotional toughness I learned from volleyball have helped me handle classrooms, interviews, and relationships with the same grit I apply when the match is tight. Being a volleyball player in a male-dominated sport has shown me that being a strong woman means I don’t have to prove I’m better than anyone; I just have to understand that I’m enough. It means taking up space, using my voice, and not accepting less than I am worth. And also, it means making sure I lift up other girls to do the same. I'm proud to say that volleyball helped build the strong and powerful women that I am today.

While babysit may not fit the mold of traditional leadership, it has been one of themost significant ways I have learned to lead by example. Ihave been babysitting for three siblings in my neighborhood, ages three, seven, and nine, for over two years. Initially, I thought babysitting merely meant "watching out" for the kids-keeping them safe and entertained. In reality, I underestimated the amount of influence I have on those kids and the impact my words and actions had on them. I have learned that kids see and hear everything. They see how you talk to them, how you react when things go sideways and how you treat other people. I have learned that they mimic what they see much more than they repeat what they hear. One afternoon stands out. The two older kids started teasing their little sister because of the way she sounded when she talked. They were mocking her voice and laughing. She immediately went quiet and looked hurt. I was heartbroken for her and her embarrassment, but I knew it was a time for me to intervene—not just as a babysitter, but as a leader. Instead of just telling them to stop, I sat them down and asked how they would feel if someone laughed at them like that. I wanted them to know how their words affect their sister. I explained what it meant to treat each other with kindness and respect, especially as family. I could see them starting to think about what I had said, so I decided to shift the energy. I asked each of them to say one thing that they liked or admired about their sister. At first, they stalled and checked out, but they started sharing sweet things about her that made her smile. That day, the teasing stopped, and since then I know they've thought twice about making fun of her when it comes to wanting attention. I learned from that experience that a large part of leadership is not always being in a position of authority or needing to make any authoritative choices. Leadership can sometimes look like being the still voice, modeling the behavior you want others to demonstrate in your influenceable moments with kids, acting with quiet patience and kindness, and taking the opportunity to teach values and expectations in very normal situations. I realized that my behavior, the presence of my action, influenced those children more than I thought possible. So now when I babysit, I try to lead through modeling respect, patience, and compassion. I try to correct behavior in a gentle way and model how to positively cope with frustration and disagreements. I know that I am helping to influence how these kids treat other people, and how they see themselves. As a Seelaus Scholar, I would continue with this mentality—not just leading by what I say, but leading through action that creates growth and development in another person.

My junior year of high school began to truly take a tole on my physical and emotional well being. I was taking difficult classes, cheering several days a week, striving toward college prep, and keeping up with friendships. But what hit me hardest was when my grandmother--someone who I essentially grew up with--became severely sick. To watch my grandma--who had always been so strong and independent--go through a process that required constant help was heart-wrenching. I felt scared, helpless, and strained beyond my capacity. I tried to maintain myself, going to school with a smile and going through the motions of practices like everything was okay, but in reality I was completely drained--mentally, emotionally, and physically. I was drowning in depression and sorrow. I was not really getting enough sleep, I had to do homework late in the evening after helping my mom care for my grandmother, and was subconsciously starting to skip meals. I was on the brink of emotional breakdown almost every minute of every day. One evening, after coming home to a long day and hearing my grandmother had declined, I sat in my room and just cried. That was the moment I recognized I could not keep ignoring what I was feeling, it was time to take care of myself if I wanted to care for my loved ones. I finally opened up to my mom and told her all the things I had kept inside. She hugged me and told me that it was fine to feel overwhelmed. With my mom's encouragement, I reached out to my school counselor—which was one of the best decisions I made. I started journaling so that I could get my emotions, and frustrations, and feelings out of my mind; I began taking daily 30-minute walks for some mental clarity; and made minor adjustments like limiting my time on my phone and practicing deep breathing exercises when I was feeling anxious. I also allowed myself to step away from some of my commitments—not because I was quitting, but because I was finally putting myself first. That experience changed my perception of life. I learned that strength doesn’t always mean pushing when the pain feels unbearable; sometimes it means giving yourself enough grace to rest, breath, and heal. Prioritizing my mental and emotional health granted me a newfound sense of balance and resilience. I have carried this lesson with me while looking ahead—whether it is in regard to college, work, or my personal life. I have recognized what it looks like to need rest, when have to ask for help, and when to take a moment to breathe. I have learned that I can embrace challenges with a clearer mind and fuller heart because I have already experienced one of the most difficult seasons of my life.

My upbringing in New Jersey has been arguably the most influential times of my life. I spent the majority of my youth in a small town known as Burlington Township where everyone knew each other, and at a point in time, I didn't think of how much that would influence my values and worldview. However, I now appreciate looking back on how those early years instilled in me a sense of community, support and perspective. The most significant influence my childhood had on me was how to forge genuine, enduring connections with individuals. When you live in a small town, you pick up on the fact that you have to take care of each other rather quickly. Whether we were shoveling people's sidewalks in the winter, helping to rake the neighbors leaves, attending school events, or supporting hometown fundraisers, the sense of community stuck with me. I take this same mentality into my friendships, professional relationships, and even new people I meet. I have learned to actively listen more, put empathy at the forefront of my interactions, and value trust over superficial relationships. Growing up in New Jersey also had an influence on me with its distinct combination of rural tranquility and proximity to urban life. While my hometown provided me personal, calm, and tight-knitted community, I was still never more than a short drive from the Cherry Hill mall and, eventually, New York City. That dynamic provided me with a wide lens for life. It allowed me to think big while remaining humble, and appreciative of hard work. I was able to envision different paths and opportunities; the inner ambition to desire these paths while understanding that I will always want to have a positive impact in my respective communities. In conclusion, I truly believe my childhood in New Jersey has shaped who I am: a strong, caring, driven individual. The community support, the values instilled, and the people I was surrounded by have grounded me on a foundation that I continue to cultivate. As I enter into my college career, I will remember the core values I've learned from living and growing up in Burlington Township, New jersey. I will forever cherish my childhood and home state – both for lessons I didn't know I was receiving at the time, and for the village that fostered my growth into an individual whose values are tied to connection, meaning, and integrity.

Since I was a child, I've had a passion for the power of communication—how the right words, at the right time, can educate, inspire, and unite people in a message. From watching a keynote address, to seeing a brand connect with their audience through storytelling, to seeing the impact a message made on someone's perspective, I knew that I wanted to be a part of that world. And that is why I chose public relations. Public relations is more than just selling a brand's message or covering media—it's relationship building and trust building, and allowing a story that matters to be heard. It's caring that the company, individual, or organization is telling a story, and it is creating a way for that story to resonate with the right audience, Making an impact and influence through strategic communication is what gets me excited. While building my career in PR, I am excited to continually learn about media relations, brand storytelling, crisis communication, and strategic messaging. I thrive on creativity and collaboration, and I am excited about the opportunity to formulate messages that not only gain attention, but will also be talked about for a long time to come. I understand that PR is fast-paced and every day will be different and that is what I'm most looking forward to. A primary motivating factor in my pursuit of a Public Relations (PR) career is my passion for people. I have always loved building relationships, learning about other people’s viewpoints, and finding ways to encages a message in a way that is sincere and impactful. Whether it is in writing a compelling press release, managing social media engagement, or helping an organization manage through a crisis, I want to use this skillset to make a difference. In the future, I aspire to bring authenticity, passion, and creativity to the public relations field. I want to be part of creating something bigger than myself—contributing to narratives that matter, building trust between organizations and audiences, and working towards a more informed and connected world. While I am aware that this will be a learning process, I am excited about that learning experience. I am dedicated to my own growth and development and I am excited to enter into this profession with an open mind, extremely strong work ethic and unwavering belief in the power of communication. Public relations is the point at which my passion and skillset intersect and I am eager to see it come to fruition.

From the moment I stepped onto the debate stage, I realized the power of words to persuade, inspire, and connect. My experience in speech and debate has not only honed my ability to communicate effectively but has also equipped me to share my Christian faith with confidence, clarity, and compassion. One of the most valuable skills I have developed through debate is the ability to articulate complex ideas clearly and persuasively. In competitions, I have learned to structure my arguments logically, support them with evidence, and present them with conviction. Similarly, when discussing my faith, I must express my beliefs in a way that is both thoughtful and engaging. The Gospel is the most important message I can share, and my training in debate has taught me how to do so with precision and confidence. Beyond speaking skills, debate has also instilled in me the importance of active listening and empathy. Engaging with opposing viewpoints is essential in debate, and the same principle applies when discussing faith. Not everyone shares my beliefs, and some may have doubts or misconceptions about Christianity. By listening patiently and respectfully, I can better understand where others are coming from and respond in a way that fosters meaningful, open conversations rather than confrontational debates. Jesus himself listened with compassion before sharing truth, and I strive to follow that example in every faith-based discussion. Additionally, my experience in speech and debate has strengthened my confidence in defending my faith. Just as I research evidence for my arguments in debate rounds, I have learned the importance of studying Scripture and Christian apologetics to support my beliefs. 1 Peter 3:15 reminds us to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” Debate has prepared me to do just that—with both boldness and humility. Moreover, debate has taught me the value of grace and patience in difficult conversations. In a debate round, winning is not just about proving a point—it’s about persuading others with logic and respect. Similarly, when sharing my faith, I understand that transformation does not happen through argument alone but through love, understanding, and the work of God in people’s hearts. Ultimately, speech and debate have shown me that sharing my faith is not about winning arguments but about planting seeds of truth, demonstrating love, and fostering understanding. Whether on a debate stage or in everyday life, I am grateful for the tools I have gained to be a more effective ambassador for Christ. I look forward to continuing to use my voice to glorify God and share His message with the world.