In second grade, my teacher asked the class to wear something that resembled my “dream” career for my school’s annual fair. But, at seven years old, I had no idea what I wanted to be. My family and I were so busy trying to survive that I had little time and opportunity to “dream” in such a way. My mom graduated from high school in Ghana, and my father dropped out of school numerous times before eventually graduating as a non-traditional college student in his late forties. As immigrants to the United States in their twenties, the only jobs they could obtain placed us in a position of struggle. My dad, tirelessly worked at a local grocery store, drove trucks during the day, and stocked food in the freezer overnight. My mother ran a business, yet she constantly depended on support from family and friends. At that time, survival for my family essentially meant keeping our heads down, shying away from opportunities for exposure, and lingering in the shadows of life to conceal my parents’ immigration status. When career day finally came, I saw other children dressed as teachers, doctors, firefighters, and even lawyers. Their parents had careers very different from what I was exposed to at home, and it was inspiring to witness. Eager to capture this memorable moment, my teacher took a class photo. However, my teacher excluded me from the photo. Dressed like Oprah Winfrey – my family’s idea of a successful Black woman – the teacher asked me to sit out of the class picture simply because she thought I did not “understand” the assignment. My perceived lack of understanding was not fostered by conceptual skills, but instead, my disadvantage stemmed from my socioeconomic status, racial background, limited access to resources, and lack of exposure to diverse professionals. When I was excluded from the class photo, I did not tell my parents because I did not want them to feel responsible for yet another confusing and normalized experience of exclusion at school. Instead of feeling shame or disappointment about the jobs they held, I wanted them to feel proud of their careers, their vision of success, and their dreams for me. From that moment, I became eager to use the power of education to establish myself as a well-rounded leader in society to provide representation for others. This journey began during my undergraduate career, and I plan to continue it in my law school community and ultimately in the legal profession. Looking back, I understand why my parents told me to dress up as Oprah. They knew that in America, I had immense and valuable opportunities for unimaginable success. They taught me the importance of striving for greatness more than what anyone believed a first-generation student could achieve. Striving for greatness means embracing challenges as a form of growth. Today, I carry that belief forward—not just for myself, but for others like myself. As a first-generation law school applicant in an immigrant family, this scholarship is not just about covering application fees, or seat deposits – it is about opening doors of opportunity that would otherwise remain closed. With this financial support, I can pay law school deposit fees while setting a new path for my family and future generations. By setting a new path for the future, I hope to help open more doors of opportunity. As a future public interest lawyer, I hope to uplift others with similar backgrounds and experiences, amplify the voices of those systematically neglected and help others reach success through the law.

Question 1: I will be matriculating to Columbia Law School this Fall 2025. As of May 1st, I have placed a seat deposit at this school. Question 2: Short term: My mother’s untimely death served as another painful reminder that a lack of universal rights continues to happen in many historically marginalized and underrepresented communities. Having persevered through the most challenging time of my life and learned these lessons, I now aim to use my privilege as a U.S. citizen to acquire a strong understanding of the law to help my community as an empathic civil rights attorney, who understands the struggles of those who may not have the same access as me. As a first step in this new journey of helping others, I believe attending law school would greatly support me in understanding how I can use law as a tool for justice and help level the playing field for those who face discrimination. Drawing from my own experiences, I am deeply interested in analyzing issues of inequality and race and the law, but most importantly understand how the law and legal institutions can construct racial hierarchies. Long Term: While K-12 education provides essential knowledge in subjects like English and Math, it often fails to address race, identity, and discrimination. In California, public school curricula rarely reflect Black, Indigenous, and People of Color (BIPOC) voices, and when they do, these narratives are often filtered through Eurocentric perspectives. This lack of representation hinders progress. I want to change that by building a high school in my under-resourced community—one that centers BIPOC voices, integrates Ethnic Studies, and promotes an anti-racist, inclusive curriculum. By doing so, I hope to empower students to inspire change and foster a more equitable and inclusive society. Question 3: My immigrant parents taught me the importance of giving back in a society that often prioritizes individualism. I watched my mother serve others through hospitality and education, and my father through financial support and resources. When my mother passed away during my teen years, I became the one in need—and it was the selfless support of my community that helped me succeed. So, when it came time to choose a career, I knew I had to give back. A lifelong advocate for equality, I was always the one pointing out injustices—or encouraging others to speak up when I couldn’t. As Muhammad Ali once said, “Service to others is the rent you pay to live on this Earth.” My experiences have deepened my commitment to service. As a future public interest lawyer, I hope to uplift communities through organizing, social movements, and policy innovation to create lasting change. Question 4: The summer of 2020 was deeply painful as media coverage of police brutality surged. While support from non-Black communities was encouraging, it was frustrating to see society treat these injustices as newly discovered. Angered by the erasure of Black voices, I turned to activism, focusing on education reform. I joined Diversify Our Narrative (DON), a student-led group advocating for anti-racist texts in K-12 schools. I launched a local chapter at my former high school, collaborating with peers to gather over 100 signatures and present proposals for a more inclusive curriculum to the school board. Our advocacy faced resistance, especially when we pushed for real change. Some district members feared that discussing race would upset non-Black students, revealing their priorities. Despite the discomfort, I stayed committed—attending board meetings, sharing resources, and mobilizing community support. Though our efforts eventually stalled, I learned that leadership is defined not just by outcomes, but by resilience in the face of setbacks. As a future lawyer, I remain driven to advance racial justice, equity, and inclusion, knowing that even small steps can lead to lasting impact. Question 5: If I had the resources to create a philanthropic initiative, I would focus on expanding access to quality healthcare for low-income and marginalized communities. Growing up in an under-resourced area, I witnessed how limited access to preventative care, mental health services, and affordable treatment can lead to long-term health disparities. My initiative would fund community-based clinics that provide culturally competent care, health education, and mental health support. Healthcare should not be a privilege—it’s a basic civil right. By addressing these inequities, my goal is to improve health outcomes and also restore trust in the medical system. Everyone deserves the chance to live a healthy life, regardless of their income, background, or ZIP code. This initiative would be a step toward a more just healthcare system.

I am a firm believer in doing whatever it takes to pursue my goals as well as overcome any significant challenges that may hinder me from reaching my fullest potential. Even though I would not wish the unexpected death of a loved one and strong betrayal from various friends and family on anyone, I truly believe that the significant hardships I have faced have made me into a strong woman. Experiencing pain and death at a point in my life where I took things for granted, has challenged me to slowly learned that my mental health. One way I can take care of it is by practicing self-care. Self-care is more than taking breaks and doing workout routines, it is also about difficult but necessary growth. Even though mental health is not an issue that is prioritized in the Black community, I learned the hard way that my peace of mind is essential. About four years ago I lost my biggest role model-- my mother. Her death was unexpected and painful. My mother was my world and the only adult in my life who genuinely cared about me. Certainly, I can never forget the day I watched her cold, lifeless body remain frozen in a casket surrounded by many faces of sorrow, anger, and disappointment. As the casket closed, that was the exact moment I ultimately decided to mentally bury part of myself with my mother because part of me died. Being at her funeral made me realize that life is short. I had so many family and friends telling me to “be strong” and “I am here for you,” yet this was all performative. One of my mom’s good friends, Ms. K never failed to disappoint me. She always showed up at all my special occasions always bringing love. For a period of time, all the pain and misery I experienced felt temporary. I thought I finally had another mother figure in my life. However, this close relationship became the biggest threat to my mental health. I felt betrayed when I figured out that Ms. K was dating my father a few months after my mother died. One thing led to another, and before I realized I was a pawn in my father and Ms. K’s game the entire time. I was furious and deeply hurt. I began to ask myself: “What did I do to deserve this pain” and “How can someone so close to me hurt and betray me like this?” My siblings and I did not like this new relationship and it affected our mental health greatly. I learned to convince myself that I was “crazy” and “overreacting.” Slowly, I began to shut down all my other close relationships with other family and friends in fear of being betrayed or worse. This challenge slowly began to eat bits of my peace in a way that I have never experienced before. In order to grow, I slowly began to learn and accept pieces of this betrayal, by moving forward not moving on. Growth is about creating a balance. Growth is also about applying wisdom, knowledge, and understanding in the face of adversity. People will come and go just like my mom, yet life will continue to go on. Loss is not just about death; it can also be about living relationships. Many relationships will flourish whereas many will fail. However, these personal challenges in my life will only help me understand the importance of prioritizing my mental health, practicing self-care, and not allowing my peace to be robbed in damaging ways no matter the cost.

I am a strong believer in doing whatever it takes to pursue my goals as well as overcome any significant challenges that may hinder me from reaching my fullest potential. As the oldest daughter of immigrants, attending and completing a college degree has been one big step towards benefiting my community. My ultimate and strong passion for changing the world of others around me is through a racial social justice lens by constantly learning, growing, and empowering through education, equitable policies, and research. As someone who identifies as African-American, I am eager to contribute to the betterment of Black communities through adequate and effective educational, financial, mental, and community empowerment resources. One of many of these resources includes building a school in my community that utilizes a culturally relevant approach in the curriculum and school. After reflecting on my high school experience, I realized that there was a lack of diverse and anti-racist literature even though most of my classmates were students of color. I could not help but notice that even when people of color were mentioned in the classroom and media it was always presented in a damaged and stereotypical way. Thus, I decided to join a student-led initiative called Diversify Our Narrative (DON) which advocates for diverse, anti-racist text in the curriculum through a social justice framework. I was the first person to establish a chapter in my small and often forgotten city, Oro Grande, for my high school. As a co- District Lead, I was responsible for overseeing and leading this campaign and promoting the initiative by speaking at school board meetings, working with community leaders & respective committees in our team, and more. I worked with a small group of about five people and we successfully gathered over 100 signatures from the student body and community (alumni, parents/guardians/current students), hosted Q&A spaces as well as created an interactive Instagram and Facebook account to share untaught educational history and resources about people of color. I hope to change the world by actively working to change the narrative and calling these issues of diversity, equity, and inclusion to the forefront. Growing up witnessing unjust actions and decisions due to the actions of people around the world angered me, yet empowered me. It taught me that if I enjoy amplifying others’ voices and challenging the system to do better, I should study and pursue law and public policy given that in order to change the law one must know it.