Some of my earliest memories growing up were in government buildings. My mom and I had just immigrated to the United States when I was six years old. I was so excited to be in the “land of opportunity,” but I did not realize how much of a sacrifice it really was for my mom to move me here. She did not allow her gender or language restrictions to ever take away from my opportunities. A few weeks after we had moved into my grandparents’ house, my mother would take the Metro bus to most of the elementary schools around the community and discuss my education possibilities. She could’ve admitted me to the first school she had talked to as she had a busy schedule. However, she chose to value the need for a strong education and wished for me to have all the resources she could provide for me at that time for me to thrive. Her fight for my better future empowered me to aim for my full potential, even outside of academic areas, such as advocating for my beliefs, like my culture, and sharing what it means for me to be a Muslim immigrant in America. The most significant challenge I had to overcome has been navigating my identity as a Muslim immigrant student in America in the years after 9/11, when prejudice and stereotypes often silenced minority voices like mine. One summer morning, I received a text that read, "Journalism program open, are you interested?" Grateful for the offer but initially hesitant, my summer schedule was already packed with numerous extracurriculars and volunteer work. However, the prospect of being able to tell my own story was too compelling to pass up. Day 1 unfolded like a whirlwind. The narratives of Japanese Americans during WWII immediately prompted introspection about my own identity as a Muslim American. Having grown up witnessing the suppression of many Muslim voices, I recognized the urgency in telling their stories. I desired to engage with Muslim Americans from diverse backgrounds, individuals who may have looked different from me but shared similar experiences. These were people forced to prove their American identity on a daily basis. In response, I crafted a story drawing parallels between Japanese Americans who maintained their nationalism during WWII and the contemporary struggle of Muslim Americans fighting to be recognized as ideal Americans.The opportunity to amplify their narratives as a journalist was a confession; the power I had in the modern media landscape made me acutely aware of my positive impact. Being able to illuminate the stories of those often overlooked or marginalized became the highlight of my day. It dawned on me that my role as a storyteller held the potential to shape perceptions, challenge stereotypes, and contribute to a more inclusive narrative. After our five week program, my impact was more than just writing a story for a high school journalism program. I was given the opportunity to speak out against racial discrimination during World War II, give a much needed voice to more recent tragic stories I had been fortunate enough to hear, and reflect on how the prejudice and violence Japanese Americans faced back then still permeates society today. After sharing my work with family and friends (many of whom are immigrants themselves), I chose to apply for an internship with the foundation to help recruit and empower the new generation. I taught them the importance of being who they are rather than who the world wants to see. I later on submitted my journalistic piece to numerous publishers in hopes of reaching a much wider group of individuals to share this story of empowerment and resilience that is rooted in all our cultures. Currently, I am attending the University of California, Riverside and was able to take part in our Muslim American society. Not only was I able to hear the stories of my other fellow brothers and sisters, through the help of this organization I was able to meet and connect with other cultural organizations started at our university.

Being a muslim immigrant in America a few years after the terrorist attack of 9/11 has imprinted a mark on me to redefine One summer morning, I received a text that read, "Journalism program open, are you interested?" Grateful for the offer but initially hesitant, my summer schedule was already packed with numerous extracurriculars and volunteer work. However, the prospect of being able to tell my own story was too compelling to pass up. Day 1 unfolded like a whirlwind. The narratives of Japanese Americans during WWII immediately prompted introspection about my own identity as a Muslim American. Having grown up witnessing the suppression of many Muslim voices, I recognized the urgency in telling their stories. I desired to engage with Muslim Americans from diverse backgrounds, individuals who may have looked different from me but shared similar experiences. These were people forced to prove their American identity on a daily basis. In response, I crafted a story drawing parallels between Japanese Americans who maintained their nationalism during WWII and the contemporary struggle of Muslim Americans fighting to be recognized as ideal Americans.The opportunity to amplify their narratives as a journalist was a confession; the power I had in the modern media landscape made me acutely aware of my positive impact. Being able to illuminate the stories of those often overlooked or marginalized became the highlight of my day. It dawned on me that my role as a storyteller held the potential to shape perceptions, challenge stereotypes, and contribute to a more inclusive narrative. After our five week program, my impact was more than just writing a story for a high school journalism program. I was given the opportunity to speak out against racial discrimination during World War II, give a much needed voice to more recent tragic stories I had been fortunate enough to hear, and reflect on how the prejudice and violence Japanese Americans faced back then still permeates society today. After sharing my work with family and friends (many of whom are immigrants themselves), I chose to apply for an internship with the foundation to help recruit and empower the new generation. I taught them the importance of being who they are rather than who the world wants to see. I later on submitted my journalistic piece to numerous publishers in hopes of reaching a much wider group of individuals to share this story of empowerment and resilience that is rooted in all our cultures. Currently, I am attending the University of California, Riverside and was able to take part in our Muslim American society. Not only was I able to hear the stories of my other fellow brothers and sisters, through the help of this organization I was able to meet and connect with other cultural organizations started at our university.

It's the year 2030. California is dry and hardened, the skies are a pungent orange and the heat feels like an oven set 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Not a single soul is seen outside of their suburban homes in fear of heat exhaustion. California has been my home since birth and the beauty has always been surreal. A place with a sprinkle of everything, from towering mountains to divine waves. I remember once sitting in my small house living room at the age of nine and listening to the news with my parents while they stared at the TV screen with concern woven into their eyes. “Our latest report on the wildfires spreading across Southern California have been horrendous. Acres of land have been burnt and still no success in calming it down. Please do your part as a resident and help stop droughts…” the forecasting lady trailed off. Those days were cycles of worry and searching for effective solutions. Now as I sit in my lab—completely run by my creations of AI—I laugh at how clueless we were. For the past couple of months, my trial and error process seemed to be the only “creation” in my lab. I won’t deny the frustration that came along with it, but that only built more dedication in me. The population has decreased half of its size and many are hospitalized due to dehydration. If we keep going like this, California will be a ghost town in no minutes. “Good morning Ms. Adria.” “Good morning, Alma.” Alma was my first creation. I still remember the moment when her circuits burst alive, lighting up my once so darkened lab in the middle of Commerce. My heavy bloodshot eyes—due to the lack of sleep—pirouetted with excitement. She was and always will be my proudest creation. Exhilaration would be an understatement to describe the eruptions of butterflies in my stomach. I never saw my designs as more than a creative hobby, something to pass time. I was never the dedicated type; if you told a nine year old me that I would be sitting in the middle of an office—completely run by technology—committing my entire career to trying to establish a better future for California, I would have laughed at your face. Yet, here I am. “Excited for your big day miss?” “Thrilled! Like honestly, Alma, I would have never thought the universe would have chosen me, but I’m just grateful—no—actually, I’m more than grateful!” Through the circular windows of my office, I can see waves of people wash over the parking lot of my building, not a speck of space left for oxygen. Being brought up in the scattered town of Commerce with a population of under 13,000, the crowd amazed me. I never spotted many neighborhoods, just bursts of industries and warehouses. On my way to school, I would see the outskirts of different machinery and use of the latest technology that can break and build all the rigorous work for you. Today, I am standing in their shoes and promoting my new divine technological innovation—One that will cease California’s hardships. As I step inside the crystal-like elevator, the clacks of my slick black heels break through the loud pounding in my chest. Anxious—that's what I was. The quick breeze of AC hits my chest as the doors swipe open, revealing the flock of residents swarming the stage—neatly organized by my own machinery. Deep breathes flow in and out as my feet take me to a holographic microphone. The sky was painted with the darkest shade of orange and the parched shroud of air moved through the gaps. “Welcome everyone, I’m more than astonished to see so many of you gathered here today! Well to be honest, it’s not a light topic discussion, it’s more of a societal impact so why wouldn’t every single one of you be here.” The crowd let out small chuckles at my failed attempts of keeping the situation lively and vibrant during such unfortunate moments. “As we all know, these past couple of years have not been the most grateful. Souls were lost, relationships were broken, and distance was crafted but that's okay, we learned to persevere and continue with the shriveled storm. Say hello to our future, the weather drone!” Everyone beamed with curiosity in their eyes as they possessively took in the bundle of nanotech flying above my head. It was molded as a flat circular device with red fluorescence stroking the edges. The environment gasped with deafening silence as they all were amazed by the unspoken model glowing with its lights. “The work of this guy is pretty simple, it controls the weather, mostly the rain and humidity. No more dry state, no more cries of help, and no more losses. This intelligent piece of nanotechnology will mimic what naturally will occur in clouds but enhance the process by adding particles which can stimulate the condensation process. Rain, but the process is accelerated. These drones will first be spread around the state and when the humidity has gone to normal levels and the drought is over, every family will freely receive one. This is our future, yes the creation took effort from me but this is where you guys come in. This is only a sample of water so you all will learn to harvest these artificial rain water and put it to use while I expand my work. We have to work together and need one another. Can we all do that?” Roars fly through the crowd as my brown eyes fades away to the distance as I see the drones working through the city of Commerce and slowly taking over every acre of land. The noise settles within me and full body goosebumps erupt. We did it. I did it.