When I watched “Mrs.” by Arati Kadav, I saw more than just a fictional character. I saw a reality that too many South Asian women are born into. The film is about a wife and mother whose identity is reduced to just "Mrs.”, a woman expected to devote her life to her husband’s household while her own dreams disappear. She slowly fades into the background, caught up in everyday routines and what her culture expects from her. Watching that filled me with dread, because I’ve seen it happen to so many women back in Nepal. That kind of life, where a woman gives up everything for others and loses herself in the process, has always been my biggest fear. I’ve never been afraid of failure. What I fear is waking up one day, having supported someone else’s future and realizing I never built one of my own. I don’t want to live a life where my name, goals, and purpose are only tied to someone else. But I was raised differently. My mother was a nurse in Nepal, and she was one of the few girls in her village who got to be educated. However, when we immigrated to the United States, her degrees no longer held value. She exchanged her professional title and went from helping patients to working long nights and early mornings just to help us stay afloat. It was hard watching someone so smart and capable go unseen, but she never stopped giving. She gave my sister and I everything from time, love, food, and comfort without asking. She also gave us something else. In a culture where sons are often celebrated more than daughters, my mother never let us feel small. She always said, “I don’t need sons. I have my daughters.” That sentence did more than comfort me. It shaped how I view myself and the world. She made me feel strong in spaces that shrank me. Through my mother, I learned that true strength is not always loud. It’s continuing to show up even when no one notices, and that lesson has shaped how I carry myself both personally and as a leader. Now, I’m an Honors Computer Science student with a Business minor at the University of Kansas. I challenge myself in the classroom, but I’ve also made it a priority to lead and give back just like my mother always did for me. As the Outreach Chair for the KU SELF Engineering Leadership Program, I organize events that help high school students see a future for themselves in STEM. As an External Vice President of SASE, I focus on creating inclusive spaces for Asian students on campus. I’m also involved in Women in Computing, where I help introduce young girls to coding. Outside of school, I give back to my Nepali community by teaching dance and helping with quiz competitions. So, education is more than a degree to me. It’s my way of choosing myself and creating a future where I get to live fully. I want to lead, build, and represent women in STEM. I want to explore the world, work in tech and find ways to make technology more accessible in underserved communities, especially for immigrants. These dreams might have been out of reach for women like my mother, but because of her sacrifices they are within reach for me. I hope to leave a legacy that encourages young girls, especially daughters of immigrant family to create their own path. To encourage them to live their lives with purpose, not obligation. To choose themselves and their dreams.