I have been interested in architecture for much of my life but only recently discovered my passion for disaster relief work. While researching for a school project, I read about a Japanese architect who designs and builds temporary housing and community buildings in the aftermath of natural disasters like earthquakes. I fell in love with the idea of giving shelter and healing spaces to survivors of disasters and now cannot imagine myself doing anything else. Because such projects are often done through volunteering, I will likely have separate but complementary day-to-day work, hopefully in public buildings such as schools or hospitals. In my disaster-relief work, I will have to learn how to balance innovation for the future and the needs of the present. Post-disaster situations have many constraints, such as a lack of time, money, transportation, or skilled workers. As such, many architects in this field have experimented with unconventional building methods and materials like cardboard and styrofoam to overcome the numerous obstacles they face. While I am interested in advancing the field through such experimentation, I must remember to prioritize the needs of the survivors I am trying to assist at the moment. I will also need to learn how to balance appearance and practicality, just as much as with any other type of building. Though my first priority will be sheltering people in efficient and safe ways, it is also important to consider that many of these people need comfort from their surroundings. One of the ways I plan to accomplish this is by encouraging personalization, which has been shown to improve a person’s perception of a space. By inviting occupants to shape their surroundings, I hope they can regain a sense of control and feel more at ease. On top of balancing all of these variables, I must remember to bring balance to my personal life as well. With so many responsibilities, it will undoubtedly be difficult to find time for myself and I may often become so absorbed in the struggles of others that I forget to address my own. While not much can prepare me for the emotional burden of my work, I am already well-versed in time management from juggling school, extracurriculars, and multiple jobs. My skills will improve even further through notoriously strenuous architecture studio courses, allowing me to manage my future workload in an efficient and healthy way. But what will keep me healthy the most is the reminder that taking care of myself will set me up the best to take care of others, because that is what truly keeps me going.

I originally became interested in architecture for aesthetic reasons because I was, and still am, fascinated by the visual world. As I matured, I began to appreciate architecture’s functionality and community-building aspects, becoming more and more convinced of the positive impact buildings can have on a community. My passion for architecture deepened even further when I read about an architect who designs and builds temporary housing and community buildings in the aftermath of natural disasters like earthquakes. I fell in love with the idea of giving shelter and healing spaces to survivors of disasters, and would like to go even further by finding innovative ways to build in a situation with so many constraints and by also contributing to long term rebuilding. I was so quick to become passionate about disaster relief because my parents are from Japan, a country that experiences frequent, often catastrophic, earthquakes. Even in the Pacific Northwest, where I live now, a severe earthquake is forecasted in the coming decades and many are being displaced by other disasters such as wildfires. It would mean the world to me if I could serve my communities both here and in Japan in their time of need, using the skills and network I acquired throughout my career. It would bring me even more joy if I could also reach out to various communities from around the world, especially those that have been marginalized or overlooked, bringing them much needed safety and a sense of community.

As a child, I was fascinated by the visual world, wanting to see anything and everything–whenever my family took me somewhere new, I found myself gawking at my surroundings, especially the built environment. I wanted to know more about the enigmatic and complex structures around me, which led to my passion for architecture. My desire to experience the world’s visual intricacies also fostered a love of drawing, which complimented my architectural interests and trained me to see the world from different perspectives. Unfortunately, as I got busier with homework and extracurriculars in middle school, I stopped drawing and didn’t resume until high school, when I gained more control over my time. But when I started drawing again, I didn’t stop there. I drew with mediums I had never used before and tried my hand at painting and printmaking, taking various classes to pick up more skills. I was able to cultivate a robust, enriching hobby that supported both my career and my mental health. I followed a similar journey with my relationship to architecture, becoming disinterested in middle school as I felt pressure to pursue other fields. My interest reignited as I began attending community college through Early College High School and found more flexibility in my class options, opening my mind to careers that weren’t emphasized in a traditional school setting. I even had the pleasure of taking an architectural design course, which confirmed my desire to become an architect and gave me a head start on critical design concepts. While researching for a class project, I read about a Japanese architect who designs and builds temporary housing and community buildings in the aftermath of natural disasters like earthquakes. I fell in love with the idea of giving shelter and healing spaces to survivors of disasters and now cannot imagine myself doing anything else. I would like to dedicate myself to temporary solutions and permanent rebuilding in the wake of disasters by utilizing the network I cultivate while in college, during internships like the one I am currently doing, and as a practicing architect. However, I don’t intend to stop there–I would also like to contribute to the field through experimentation with unconventional materials and techniques to improve the post-disaster building process. I want to find ways to circumvent the many restrictions imposed by disasters, such as a lack of transportation, funding, skilled workers, and time. I hope to maximize my impact in the relief projects I work on and inspire others around the world to do the same.

I am passionate about architecture–specifically, architecture that is equitable and accessible to everyone regardless of any kind of disability. I became especially interested in this topic after visiting my grandmother, who has trouble walking even with the assistance of a walker. She seemed to face insurmountable obstacles every time she dared to venture outside her room, constantly struggling to find handholds and places to rest. To her, the built environment was hostile, even dangerous. I was faced with the realization that, even though many of us have the privilege of seeing disability from a removed perspective now, disability is inevitable as we age. Yet so many of our structures are built solely for the healthiest years of the most typically abled peoples’ lives, attempting to deny our eventual disability and presenting an idealized version of our ability to navigate the physical world. The prevalence of such exclusionary design means that the built environment will fail all of us in the end unless we make a focused, continued effort to put disability at the forefront of the design process. Since I witnessed firsthand the clumsy intersection between disability and architecture, my desire to improve the built world has only grown stronger. To give myself the technical and creative skills necessary for this field, I will earn an accredited architecture degree and license, which I have already started making progress toward by earning college credits through Early College High School. I have also started doing independent exploration and reading on the relationship between architecture and accessibility, as well as disability history. As part of this exploration, I had an opportunity to interview Hannah Silver, an Inclusive Design Facilitator specializing in accessibility at Holst Architecture in Portland. Our conversation was incredibly enjoyable and eye-opening, with some of my key takeaways being that community input is crucial to accessible design and that much of my work will be centered around gathering and applying such input. The interview cemented my interest in this career and gave me a chance to prepare for it by giving me a clearer idea of what my day-to-day work would entail, advice on what classes to take, and resources to do more research. My future plans involve broadening my horizons and exploring the intersections between architecture and other disciplines by taking supplemental coursework in subjects like urban planning, psychology, disability studies, and sustainability. I would also like to have more conversations with people who are disabled about their experiences with the built environment, because nobody knows more about accessibility than they do. As a licensed architect, I will strive to create accessible spaces through collaboration with many diverse, disabled individuals, making sure their needs and wants are truly being addressed. I plan to use focus groups, community outreach, and conversations with people in my life to further my knowledge of how we interact with our surroundings, using this knowledge to design buildings that empower people like my grandmother and all of our future selves to live safely and freely without compromise.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in an area with an active Japanese community that taught me to value my heritage. When I was younger, I was able to attend a Japanese preschool and graduate from the elementary division of Portland Japanese School, which I attended every Saturday. Though conflicts with my schoolwork and other extracurricular activities prevented me from attending the middle school division, I felt grateful for the connection I had with my heritage and found other ways to keep learning and get involved with the community. So far, my identity has been nothing but empowering, giving me an extensive network of support and opportunities to learn new things. However, I know many people in my community have faced significant discrimination, especially at the outset of the pandemic. I was made acutely aware of this when my mom, a pharmacist, was harassed and called ethnic slurs by a patient. Unfortunately, discrimination against my fellow community members will likely continue to happen, despite the increasing diversity of our nation. While I cannot prevent all discrimination from occurring, I can combat its negative effects by creating spaces where members of marginalized communities can connect and feel welcomed. I plan to do this by becoming an architect, bringing equitable design to underprivileged communities. Specifically, I am interested in architecture that is equitable and accessible to everyone, regardless of any kind of disability. Having accessible architecture available everywhere will allow people who are disabled to feel safe and better connected to their physical surroundings, and by extension, to their local communities. I would like to extend accessible design to traditionally underserved populations, such as BIPOC, low-income, and rural communities, helping to close the structural gap between those with privilege and those without. To maximize the impact of my work, I want to focus on buildings that are integral to their local communities, such as schools and hospitals. These buildings are crucial to creating a sense of belonging because they are so widely and frequently used by people of different backgrounds. Since many older public buildings are in dire need of renovation, I would like to work on updating those instead of focusing solely on new design projects, reducing environmental impact by eliminating the need for tear-down and reconstruction, and giving a second chance to neglected neighborhoods. Through these areas of focus, I hope to uplift communities that have long been ignored by architects, bringing them much needed justice and amends.

While it may not fit the traditional STEM category, I am pursuing a STEM-designated architecture degree because I am passionate about architecture–specifically, architecture that is equitable and accessible to everyone regardless of any kind of disability. I became especially interested in this topic after visiting my grandmother, who has trouble walking even with the assistance of a walker. She seemed to face insurmountable obstacles every time she dared to venture outside her room, constantly struggling to find handholds and places to rest. I was faced with the realization that, even though many of us have the privilege of seeing disability from a removed perspective now, disability is inevitable as we age. Yet so many of our structures are built solely for the healthiest years of the most typically abled peoples’ lives, attempting to deny our eventual disability and presenting an idealized version of our ability to navigate the physical world. The prevalence of such exclusionary design means that the built environment will fail all of us in the end unless we make a focused, continued effort to put disability at the forefront of the design process. Since I witnessed firsthand the clumsy intersection between disability and architecture, my desire to improve the built world has only grown stronger. To give myself the best possible start in this field, I will earn an accredited architecture degree and license, which I have already started making progress toward by earning college credits through Early College High School. I have also started doing independent exploration and reading on the relationship between architecture and accessibility, as well as disability history. As part of this exploration, I interviewed Hannah Silver, an Inclusive Design Facilitator specializing in accessibility at Holst Architecture. Our conversation, which lasted well over an hour, was incredibly enjoyable and eye-opening, with some of my key takeaways being that community input is crucial to design and that much of my work will be centered around gathering such input. I am so grateful that Hannah helped me prepare for my career by giving me a clearer idea of what my work would entail, advice on what classes to take, and resources to do more research. My future plans involve broadening my horizons and exploring the intersections between architecture and other disciplines by taking supplemental coursework in subjects like urban planning, psychology, disability studies, and sustainability. I would also like to have more conversations with people who are disabled about their experiences with the built environment, because nobody knows more about accessibility than they do. As a licensed architect, I will strive to create accessible spaces through collaboration with many diverse, disabled individuals, making sure their needs and wants are truly being addressed. I plan to use focus groups, community outreach, and conversations with people in my life to further my knowledge of how we interact with our surroundings. Throughout my career, I will use this knowledge to design buildings that empower people like my grandmother and all of our future selves to live safely and freely without compromise.

While it may not fit the traditional STEM category, I am pursuing a STEM-designated architecture degree because I want to make the built environment more future-minded and sustainable. The building industry is a large contributor to carbon emissions, especially in the creation and transportation of carbon-intensive building materials. I want to push for more environmentally friendly buildings by advocating for alternatives to traditional concrete and steel, choosing long-lasting materials with the smallest environmental impact. The built environment also emits a significant amount of carbon through its energy usage, which can be mitigated through thoughtful planning. I will focus on reducing lighting and HVAC energy consumption by designing buildings to fit their specific environments, taking geography, climate, and orientation into consideration when planning layouts. I will gain inspiration from local indigenous cultures who have perfected their buildings over thousands of years to fit their region’s climate and geography. Not only will this decrease the carbon footprint of the built environment, it will also increase awareness of and appreciation for the Native American Tribes we owe this land to. However, when done without sufficient indigenous input, such projects can turn into cultural appropriation and misrepresentation. To avoid this, I would like to conduct extensive outreach to Native American communities throughout the entire design process, collaborating with Native American architects when possible. I am also passionate about architecture that is equitable and accessible to everyone regardless of any kind of disability. I became especially interested in this topic after visiting my grandmother who has trouble walking. She seemed to face insurmountable obstacles every time she dared to venture outside her room, constantly struggling to find handholds and places to rest. I was faced with the realization that, even though many of us see disability from a removed perspective now, disability is inevitable as we age. Yet so many of our structures are built solely for the healthiest years of the most typically abled peoples’ lives, attempting to deny our eventual disability and presenting an idealized version of our ability to navigate the physical world. The prevalence of such exclusionary design means that the built environment will fail all of us in the end unless we make a focused, continued effort to put disability at the forefront of the design process. Since I witnessed firsthand the clumsy intersection between disability and architecture, my desire to improve the built world has only grown stronger. As a licensed architect, I will strive to create accessible spaces through collaboration with many diverse, disabled individuals, making sure their needs and wants are truly being addressed. I plan to use focus groups, community outreach, and conversations with people in my life to further my knowledge of how we interact with our surroundings, using this knowledge to design buildings that allow people like my grandmother and all of our future selves to live safely and freely without compromise.

While it may not fit the traditional STEM category, I am pursuing a STEM-designated architecture degree because I want to make the built environment more future-minded and sustainable. The building industry is a large contributor to carbon emissions, especially in the creation and transportation of carbon-intensive building materials. I want to push for more environmentally friendly buildings by advocating for alternatives to traditional concrete and steel, choosing long-lasting materials with the smallest environmental impact. The built environment also emits carbon through its energy usage, which can be mitigated through thoughtful planning. I will focus on reducing lighting and HVAC energy consumption by designing buildings to fit their specific environments, taking geography and orientation into consideration when planning layouts. I will gain inspiration from local indigenous cultures, which have perfected their buildings over thousands of years to fit their region’s climate and geography. Not only will this decrease the carbon footprint of the built environment, it will also increase awareness of and appreciation for the Native American Tribes we owe this land to. However, when done without sufficient indigenous input, such projects can turn into cultural appropriation and misrepresentation. To avoid this, I will conduct extensive outreach to Native American communities throughout the entire design process. Another reason why I am pursuing architecture is because I would like to add diversity to the field, which has traditionally excluded people of color and women from the workplace and overwhelmingly served the privileged. It is becoming less and less feasible for a homogenous group to make design decisions as architecture begins to serve traditionally underrepresented populations, such as BIPOC, impoverished, and disabled communities. I believe my perspective will contribute to architecture because I understand that differences from the cultural majority can greatly influence a community’s needs and way of life. I would also like to make an impact by volunteering my unique skills to work on design projects for marginalized communities. I have already started researching such opportunities, including a local program that helps low-income homeowners improve their homes and keep them up to regulatory standards. In addition, I will bring diversity to the sustainability field by amplifying the voices of communities of color. Though the climate movement is improving, it has historically sought too little input from people of color, who often face the worst effects of climate change. In my work, I will seek out BIPOC perspectives by facilitating community outreach, gathering ideas for how the built environment can better meet the community’s needs while becoming more sustainable. While eco-friendliness is crucial to good design, I will make it my mission to ensure that it does not come at the cost of disproportionately burdening marginalized communities.

I grew up in the United States in a very Japanese family, my household markedly different from the surrounding world. I felt alienated at home because of my lack of eloquence in Japanese and outside because of my different cultural values. I have spent a lot of time searching for places where I feel like I belong, and would like to use education to get me into such a field. My plan is to earn an architecture degree and license to become an architect. I have always been somewhat interested in architecture, and realized it was truly the path for me when I attended a career information event at an architecture firm. While architecture has traditionally lacked diversity, the firm I visited was surprisingly diverse in physical characteristics and ways of thinking, and as I talked to the architects, I realized how much I liked their mindset–sensible and almost a little weary, yet optimistic and creative. I knew that these were the people I wanted to work with, and that this kind of workplace would make me feel at home. The possibility that I will find a place where I can belong and create welcoming spaces for others motivates me throughout my educational journey and keeps me hopeful for what lies ahead.

When the stoplight turned red, my grandmother and I were only halfway across the road, her walker-aided steps too slow for the changing signal. Even as the impatient cars crawled forward, I remained by her side and safely guided her to the sidewalk. Upon arriving at her house, she struggled to climb the several steps to her front door, pausing wearily on each one, and when inside, clung to various pieces of furniture for support as she hobbled around precariously. So many of the movements that I could make without a second thought were strenuous, sometimes impossible, for my grandmother. She seemed to face insurmountable obstacles every time she dared to venture outside of her room, constantly disabled by the world around her. While visiting my grandmother in Japan, I was faced with the realization that disability is inevitable as we age. Even though many of us see disability from a removed perspective, it will one day become the lens through which we experience the world. Like my grandmother, my parents will eventually experience significant disability, and many years later, so will my sister and I. Yet so many of our structures are built solely for the healthiest years of our lives, attempting to deny our eventual disability and presenting an idealized version of our ability to navigate the physical world. The prevalence of such exclusionary design means that the built environment will fail all of us in the end, unless we make a focused, continued effort to put disability at the forefront of the design process. Since I witnessed firsthand the clumsy intersection between disability and architecture, my desire to improve the built world has grown stronger and stronger. I intend to obtain a degree in architecture so I can learn more about how we interact with our environment and gain the credentials needed to enter the field. By learning as much as I can about the built environment, with all of its beauty and its flaws, I will gain the tools necessary to start contributing to a more accessible world. As a licensed architect, I will strive to create accessible spaces through collaboration with many diverse, disabled individuals, acting as a liaison between disabled people and the built environment. I hope to make many people happy and healthy with my work and am beyond grateful for this opportunity to help people like my grandmother and my future self live freely and safely without compromise.

When the stoplight turned red, my grandmother and I were only halfway across the road, her walker-aided steps too slow for the changing signal. Even as the impatient cars crawled forward, I remained by her side and safely guided her to the sidewalk. Upon arriving at her house, she struggled to climb the several steps to her front door, pausing wearily on each one, and when inside, clung to various pieces of furniture for support as she hobbled around precariously. So many of the movements that I could make without a second thought were strenuous, sometimes impossible, for my grandmother. She seemed to face insurmountable obstacles every time she dared to venture outside of her room, constantly disabled by the world around her. While visiting my grandmother in Japan, I was faced with the realization that disability is inevitable as we age. Even though many of us see disability from a removed perspective, it will one day become the lens through which we experience the world. Like my grandmother, my parents will eventually experience significant disability, and many years later, so will my sister and I. Yet so many of our structures are built solely for the healthiest years of our lives, attempting to deny our eventual disability and presenting an idealized version of our ability to navigate the physical world. The prevalence of such exclusionary design means that the built environment will fail all of us in the end, unless we make a focused, continued effort to put disability at the forefront of the design process. Since I witnessed firsthand the clumsy intersection between disability and architecture, my desire to improve the built world has grown stronger and stronger. I intend to obtain a degree in architecture so I can learn more about how we interact with our environment and gain the credentials necessary to enter the field. As a licensed architect, I will strive to create accessible spaces through collaboration with many diverse, disabled individuals, making sure that their needs and wants are truly being addressed. This scholarship will bring me one step closer to my goal of learning as much as I can about the built environment, with all of its beauty and its flaws, giving me the tools to start contributing to a more accessible world. I am beyond grateful for this opportunity to help people like my grandmother and my future self live freely and safely without compromise.

Shortly before the first day of school, my sociology professor instructed my class to buy the textbook (Introduction to Sociology) and The Autobiography of Malcolm X. It was my first term in Early College High School, which allowed me to attend classes at a community college, and I was not keen on buying two books for one course. However, my reluctance turned into gratitude as The Autobiography of Malcolm X became one of the most worthwhile reads of my life. The biography opens with Malcolm’s unsteady childhood, chronicling his descent into the world of crime until he is imprisoned for theft. His brother visits him in prison, teaching him about the Nation of Islam and the systematic oppression of African Americans in the United States. Once released, Malcolm becomes a prominent Nation minister, preaching for racial separation and African American independence until he is exiled because of his popularity, deemed a threat to high-ranking Nation members. Despite being shunned, Malcolm makes his holy pilgrimage to Mecca and is stunned by what he sees: people of all races coming together in peace to celebrate their religion. He sincerely and publicly admits that his ideas about race were wrong and changes his message to acknowledge the plausibility of racial harmony. On the surface level, the book has many racial themes, such as the importance of African American autonomy and the possibility of a world without prejudice. While these topics are certainly significant and need to be discussed, I was more impacted by the extent to which Malcolm’s mindset and ideologies changed, most notably after his pilgrimage. I was in utter disbelief when I read about the humility with which Malcolm changed his stance on race relations. I was so moved that I felt remorseful for my inability to admit my mistakes and vowed to be more tolerant of different perspectives. Through his impartiality, Malcolm inspired me to be skeptical of first impressions and receptive to new ideas, and if the whole world could feel the open-mindedness that I felt right then, we would have a much greater understanding of each other and the world around us, and our beliefs would be flexible, no longer set in stone. If everyone in the world read The Autobiography of Malcolm X, we would be so much more sympathetic to unfamiliar people and concepts, creating a more welcoming world for all.

My future self is a practicing architect, striving to make buildings durable, sustainable, and accessible, unfettered by my social anxiety and overthinking tendencies; but best of all, I am content--content with myself, my work, and where I ended up in my life.