I was in the foster care system for years. Moving from house to house, living from stranger to stranger. I was placed in the foster care system at a very young age and was finally adopted at the age of five. The memories I have of my experience are limited but still exist. Living in the foster care system as a young child was very confusing to me. I was constantly moving from house to house living with different families whom I had no idea who they truly were. They gave me food and provided me with a home but it was never for long. My upbringing isn't something that I value, I was a big manipulator as a child. I manipulated people into getting what I wanted, I, of course, was not aware that my actions were manipulative. I was a liar and refused to eat anything remotely healthy. I was a stubborn child with a big heart. A child who wanted love but was scared to give it. Finding my forever family was a lot for me, it was exhilarating, eye-opening, and a miracle. It changed me for the better. After I was adopted I was introduced to many new things. I was placed in school and got to make friends. Settled into my new home, I came to the realization that I wanted to change the world, I wanted to make an impact. That idea has followed me since. Because of that, I have become the person I am today, I am stubborn, determined, persistent, and almost never let something stop me. I am an open-minded and considerate person. I am a problem solver and a peacemaker. The more I have grown is the more I have realized the second chance I was given. I was given a second chance at life before I even knew it. I was born in unfortunate circumstances and became a liar and manipulator because of it. I was in the foster care system for years because of these personality traits. Until my family saw me for me. They saw me as the little girl who wanted love. For the little girl who wanted a family. Last summer I was pulled into an infelicitous situation and was discriminated against for the color of my skin tone by my fellow classmates. The experience was life-changing for me. It was eye-opening and mind-blowing to me. I was hated on for how I looked, I was 'sold' as a slave for my appearance and spoken of as an object. It crushed me. Although not for long. I chose not to let this situation weaken me and instead shaped it into a movement in my town. I stood up for myself when no one else would. I spoke out against this when no one wanted to. When my school and the local police wanted to keep it quiet. I did not. I created an upbringing in my town and created a positive impact on the community. I advocated for more education and more acknowledgment of the discrimination that students face in school. In the end, my efforts may have not brought as much change as I would have liked, but it certainly will not stop me from fighting for it. I was given a second chance at life and I dream of nothing but making it worth it. I am undecided on what career path I would like to go down. Regardless of where I may end up my motivation and determination to help people will never stop. I plan to make an impact.

I have always been very independent as a child and teenager. I have never wanted to depend on others and always do things by myself. I always take the long route on things if it means I do them independently. In middle school, we had a group project and the teacher assigned me the leader of our group. I was to make sure everyone was doing the work and that our work was done on time. I took my position a little too seriously. I was bossing my group around and always looking over their shoulder. If I felt they didn't do something right, I took control and did it myself. It wasn't until after the project I realized how bossy and in control I was being. I had let my independence take over and almost do the whole project. I made a vow to myself after that project. I promised myself never to be that bossy ever again. Over time I have gotten better and always take a step back if I feel I am being too controlling. However, after that project, I realized regardless of my attempts at avoiding leadership. People look to me for leadership, for guidance. I was born a leader and everyone I work with sees that. I then learned to be a servant leader. I became a teacher and a mentor to many people. My family, friends, and classmates look to me for help with anything and I never hesitate to stop what I am doing and assist them. I am the helping hand to everyone around me. I am the person they come to for anything and everything. I never judge their situations and provide them with as much help as I can. They have actually labeled me as their therapist At school, I am the person people come to when they want to check their answers or need help with a problem. I have dedicated my time to helping others around me. I have created a peaceful and welcoming atmosphere for others to feel comfortable asking for and receiving help from me. I have become a trusted person to confide in when needed and have helped impact people's lives. I have inspired people to reach out more to others and help. I have become a role model for my younger siblings and have made my parents proud of who I have grown up to become. I have become a reliable friend to many and am true to my word. Becoming a servant leader has not only helped many of those around me but it has made me a better person altogether.

I became interested in community service when I experienced the faults of my community first-hand. I live in a smaller town with a tight-knit community. Growing up I viewed my community as one of the best places to grow up, everyone was kind and always offered to lend a hand to help. In a child's eyes, there were no faults within my community, it was the best place to grow up. As I have grown, I started to see the differences between my friends and me. I am biracial, I am darker than all of my friends. My community is majority Caucasian, and very little diversity exists within my community. I never saw an issue with my skin tone growing up, I never looked at myself any differently than I did with my friends. I wasn't aware that was how they viewed me. The color of my skin tone to them is what defined me. They called me their black friend, never by name. I was always labeled by the color of my skin. I never saw an issue with that at first. "It's the truth" is what I would tell myself. There was nothing wrong with labeling me by my skin tone. I was unaware of what racism looked like in my life as I thought the people around me were my friends. I was unaware of the issue of racism in my town until I was a victim of a "mock slave trade" within my community. A group of students took my picture and sold me as a slave, they put a price on my face and pretend to auction me off all behind my back. They laughed at it and found humor in selling me and other students of color. When I became aware of this group chat, my perspective of the town I grew up in shattered to pieces. I learned that my friends were no friends and that they only saw me for the color of my skin tone. I felt like an object to them. I quickly learned that no one wanted to do anything about this group chat. The schools tried to quiet down their behavior and the other victims did not want to speak out against everything. I felt like I was the only one who truly wanted to do something. So I did. I put my face and name out there and spoke up against the school and these students. I called out the education system for not teaching more about race, I spoke out against the school for deeming this behavior okay. Immediately I got a positive result from the community. People agreed with me and the need to educate more on race and diversity within our community. However, there were many who disagreed with me and claimed that I was lying about the group chat and being sold. They refused to believe the screenshots of proof and told me that they had never seen racism in our town. As a Caucasian, they had never experienced racism in our town. Despite these adults telling me that I was lying I kept speaking up. I brought awareness to my community and traveled across the state to share my story. I have spoken to national and international news outlets telling my story and gaining more perspective on those who are uneducated about race. My journey with activism and speaking out does not end hear. Regardless of my attempts in my town, not much action was made. However, that does not mean I am to stop contributing and telling my story to others.

I want to see equality. Real equality. Real equal opportunity. Realization can be gradual, or it can feel like being jarred out of sleep by a smoke alarm in the middle of the night. For most of my life, growing up felt like a gentle song slowly nudging me into adulthood. What’s the rush, right? You only get to be a kid once. I was unprepared for the sirens that would wake me up on April 21st, 2021. According to the American Psychology Association, one in ten Black children report being discriminated against due to their race. One in five say their peers treat them unfairly and more than half of Black high school students report perceived racism. I must not have realized that growing up, I was blinded from it. My adopted white family did not see or treat me any differently than my white siblings. I did not view myself as being different from my classmates. I had never once considered that the color of my skin might impact how I was valued by society. It did not occur to me that I was a minority. During my middle and high school years, I read news articles about racism and discussed the issue with my family. I felt sad for minorities who were mistreated for their ethnicity, but it did not occur to me that I could be one of them. Of course, there were times when my skin color was noticed in a seemingly benign way. Classmates sometimes referred to me as their “black friend” and make jokes specifically pinpointing my skin tone. I never believed their actions were racist. My classmates were just being funny. I didn’t think I was any different from my friends. On April 21st, 2021, I learned that a group of my classmates had created an online group chat, which they named “slave trade.” In the chat, they shared pictures of me and other classmates of color and held a mock slave trade. They placed prices on our faces and auctioned us off. They spoke of creating another holocaust, against people of color and displayed hate against the LGBTQ+ community. Some of the bidders were people I had considered to be my friends. I told myself that the slave trade was just a joke, that my classmates would not mock me for my skin color, and that my friends would never do anything so cruel to me or the other minorities in our community. The nagging voice in the back of my head was just overreacting, overthinking. I understood that I was very wrong when the screenshots appeared on my phone screen. There was no snooze button on that day. I had been sold to the highest bidder for $100. Everything hit me like a truck. Reading what my classmates had said about me made my stomach churn. My perception of our idyllic little town was immediately shattered and my sense of belonging was gone. The alarm clock could not be consoled. These students were my friends. We grew up together. We ate lunch and laughed together. I even tutored some of them. Could I have been so wrong? I couldn’t make the noise stop. It got worse when the community became involved. The school board conducted an investigation. This was front-page news for the local newspaper. Parents flooded board meetings. Most demanded that the school district take action to condemn racism, but some claimed there was no racism in Traverse City. They defended the slave trade as a funny joke that hurt no one. But I was hurt. Could I tell them that I was hurt? If I spoke up, would that loud alarm clock quiet down? I went to a school board meeting and made a public comment. My voice shook and my hands trembled, but I didn’t stop. The story dominated local media for weeks. At the same time, national news outlets were focused on critical race theory. Some accused CRT of making race a problem in an otherwise colorblind society. Parents kept filling up Traverse City board meetings and shouting at each other. Radio podcasts wanted to talk with me so I talked. The Washington Post came to our little town. They wanted to know how I felt so I told them. The more I told the story, the stronger my voice grew. I realize now that racism has always existed in my life even if I didn’t recognize it at the time. Being a “black friend” was less than being a friend. I had lived my life as a white girl who finally learned that she wasn’t really white. Most minority children grow up knowing that they are different and that knowledge embeds itself into the fabric of their identity. For me, the realization was a shock that made me question everything I knew and loved. The truth is that I am different and I am grateful for that difference and for the realization of that truth. Today I am also different from the innocent 15-year-old girl I was on April 21st, 2022. I am awake. Innocence may be lost but strength has stepped in. One thing that stung me throughout my advocacy was the fact I was alone in this process. None of the other students spoke with me, they were angry, and yet they did not stand with me. I had much support from the adults the surrounded me but I needed people my age, students that could understand me on other levels. Because I had no one, I want to be there for kids that need someone. I want schools to accept the discrimination that spreads in their halls and I want them to act toward a change. I want kids to feel safe and without judgment when walking through their halls, I never want a student to face what I had to. With my voice, I will continue to share my story and speak out against discrimination in schools.

My endurance. Like millions of people in the world, I have had unfortunate circumstances occur in my life. I was placed in the foster care system as a young child and stayed there for years, moving from house to house. Growing up was a bumpy process for me. Going from the foster care system to a forever home was a big process, my foster care case was high-profile. People were fighting for me and over me. As a young child being in the middle of everything was a lot for me to handle, I ended up having to be placed in therapy for it. A few years after getting adopted my parents got divorced. They sold our house and I had to move schools. I had finally settled well into my new home before I had to move away from it. I had to move to a new school and make new friends. My parent's divorce was a lot and I found myself being the peace marker many times. School work became stressful and my grades began to drop. Toward the end of my sophomore year in high school, I was pulled into a racist situation by my fellow peers and was 'sold' as a 'slave' all due to the color of my skin tone. This situation crushed me as my eyes were opened to see that those whom I thought were my friends only saw me for my appearance. For the color which I am. My school and local police had wanted to keep the situation quiet, they did not view it concerning. Did not view students being sold in a mock slave trade group chat as concerning. I did and instead spoke loudly about the situation. I received support from hundreds as well as hate. I had adults tell me that I was lying and that racism does not occur in my town. I was gaslit but students and lied to. I lost friends due to my efforts to keep speaking out. people stopped talking to me. I was all alone. Starting from foster care and ending with creating a movement in my town, I have been through many things that I never asked for. I have cried many tears and lost people in my life. I have been betrayed and hated. I have been judged and disregarded. I have felt like nothing before and have wanted nothing more than to give up. However, in the end, I never let a single moment change me. I have never let a moment ruin me. My endurance with life has kept me who I am today. My endurance is my strength. It keeps me going, keeps me determined and persistent. With any future career, I may take I am aware that I will face challenges, I will be turned away, and may feel like giving up at certain times. Although I am confident in myself. I am confident that my endurance will keep me going. My endurance fuels me to keep going and because of that, I feel as if it will get me far in life. My endurance does not give up easily and will not stop me from chasing my dreams, one day hoping to accomplish them.

I was in the foster care system for years. Moving from house to house, living from stranger to stranger. I was placed in the foster care system at a very young age and was finally adopted at the age of five. The memories I have of my experience are limited but still exist. Living in the foster care system as a young child was very confusing to me. I was constantly moving from house to house living with different families whom I had no idea who they truly were. They gave me food and provided me with a home but it was never for long. My upbringing isn't something that I value, I was a big manipulator as a child. I manipulated people into getting what I wanted, I, of course, was not aware that my actions were manipulative. I was a liar and refused to eat anything remotely healthy. I was a stubborn child with a big heart. A child who wanted love but was scared to give it. Finding my forever family was a lot for me, it was exhilarating, eye-opening, and a miracle. It changed me for the better. After I was adopted I was introduced to many new things. I was placed in school and got to make friends. Settled into my new home, I came to the realization that I wanted to change the world, I wanted to make an impact. That idea has followed me since. Because of that, I have become the person that I am today, I am stubborn, determined, persistent, and almost never let something stop me. I am open-minded and a considerate person. I am a problem solver and a peacemaker. The more I have grown is the more I have realized the second chance I was given. I was given a second chance at life before I even knew it. I was born in unfortunate circumstances and became a liar and manipulator because of it. I was in the foster care system for years because of these personality traits. Until my family saw me for me. They saw me as the little girl who wanted love. For the little girl who wanted a family. Last summer I was pulled into an infelicitous situation and was discriminated against for the color of my skin tone by my fellow classmates. The experience was life-changing for me. It was eye-opening and mind-blowing to me. I was hated on for how I looked, I was 'sold' as a slave for my appearance and spoken of as an object. It crushed me. Although not for long. I chose not to let this situation weaken me and instead shaped it into a movement in my town. I stood up for myself when no one else would. I spoke out against this when no one wanted to. When my school and the local police wanted to keep it quiet. I did not. I created an upbringing in my town and created a positive impact on the community. I advocated for more education and more acknowledgment of the discrimination that students face in school. In the end, my efforts may have not brought as much change as I would have liked, but it certainly will not stop me from fighting for it. I was given a second chance at life and I dream of nothing but making it worth it. I am undecided on what career path I would like to go down. Regardless of where I may end up my motivation and determination to help people will never stop. I plan to make an impact.

I have lived with dogs for almost my entire life, I have 3 dogs in my family as of currently and have had 6 dogs in my life altogether. However, living with a dog and owning are dog are two different concepts. Owning a dog is a lot bigger responsibility than simply living with a dog. I have owned my dog for a few years now. He came into my life as a family pet although soon after being introduced to me, he chose me. He began following me everywhere, only listening to me and constantly seeking my presence. I was confused at what this meant at first, after a few months my family then classified him as my dog. He became my responsibility. I love dogs and will forever love my own. Yet becoming a dog owner at a young age was slightly overwhelming for me at first. My dog was a lot of work, feeding him, bathing him, exercising him, and taking him to the vet were all a lot for me on top of my studies for school. At first, I saw my dog as a responsibility, a chore. For a long time, I never stepped back and observed the impact he had on my life. Over the years I have had him as my own, I have created a friend. He may be a dog but he knows me better than I know myself. He understands when I need a moment of rest, or when I need a distraction. He can sense when I have had a long day or a boring one. He knows when to pester me about playtime and when to leave me alone. He knows when he's made a mistake and apologizes in his own way. He gets mad at me when I bathe him or take him to the vet and shows this by giving me the cold shoulder. Owning a dog has softened my heart and caused me to appreciate small gestures. My dog is extremely loyal to me, no matter how long I am gone during the day, no matter how busy I am at times with school and other family matters. At the end of the day, he is always waiting for me. He is always excited to see me and happy that I am home. My dog has an immense love for me. He looks up to me as if I am the only person in the world. His loyalty speaks a lot louder than words. Due to this, I find myself appreciating small gestures and/or loyalty from others immensely. I have discovered that owning a dog can soften one's heart but it can also cause one to be more protective. I am extremely protective of my dog. Because of the loyalty, he shows me I have grown protective over him. I am cautious of bringing him to other dogs, I monitor how others pet him, and I get defensive if one speaks ill of him. I view him as my child and so in a way I have the protectiveness any mother has over her children. Owning a dog has impacted my life in so many positive ways. My dog is my child, my best friend, and my therapist. My dog has inspired me to be a better person. He encourages me to want to deserve his undying loyalty and love. In many ways, my dog is my savior. Before owning him I was negative in many aspects, his love changed me for the better.

Having good health causes you to be a better person. It caused me to be a better person. Growing up I never could understand how vegetables could help me. I saw them as disgusting food that my mom made me eat. I disliked vegetables greatly. Despite my pleas, my mom still fed me vegetables daily. Younger me thought that only vegetables were classified as healthy food and so when I slowly began to like them, that's all I ate. I became obsessed with being healthy, eating vegetables, and exercising profusely. It got to the point where my obsession to be healthy became unhealthy. My mental state was damaged by how infatuated I was with my body image. Getting into high school and having a larger group of people to talk to, I noticed that healthy eating habits do not only include vegetables but fruits, breads, milk, and proteins. It was also not inhaling large amounts of sodium and solid fats. A healthy eating habit was so much different from what I had originally thought of. I learned that having healthy eating habits can help you live longer, boost immunity, and strengthen bones. I also learned that a healthy eating habit is not restricted to specific types of foods. Everyone has different healthy eating habits. Some people eat more proteins and consume more calories to build on muscle while others cut back on those to become leaner. Learning all of this, I chose to adopt my own healthy eating habits. I began to consume more fruit and proteins. I chose not to count my calories and chose to exercise whenever I saw fit. I began going to bed a lot sooner and waking up a lot earlier. Instantly I felt a difference in my body and mental state. Adopting a healthy eating style caused me to feel more alive. I enjoyed walking up early and getting a head start on my day. I found myself wanting to exercise and being motivated to do so. I stopped looking in the mirror so much and noticed myself laughing a lot more. Establishing a healthy eating style/ habits created me to be a happier person. Eating healthy has caused me to love my body more, feel more refreshed, get out of the house more, and love living. I believe it's important to have healthy eating habits because of the impact it has on your body. Eating healthy changes lives. Having a healthy eating style can reduce the risk of diabetes and obesity. It can reduce blood pressure and cholesterol levels. Healthy eating can improve mental health, and consuming rich vitamins and minerals can reduce mental health disorders. Practicing healthy eating habits can create a better person in you.

As a young child, I only ate sweets. Before I was placed in the foster care system I lived off of sweets, it was the only thing I could find around the house. I was a toddler who knew exactly where the Dum Dums were located and had no one to monitor how much I ate. In and out of the foster care system I do not remember much of my diet, I ate whatever I was given. At the age of five, I was adopted by my loving family. My mother is a health influencer. She exercises daily and creates very healthy meals. She lives a healthy lifestyle. After being adopted I had to accustom myself to this lifestyle. She chose not to feed me Dums Dums every meal, quite audacious if you ask me. In the beginning, it was a big struggle to eat. I physically gagged at vegetables. Every time I ate vegetables the color would drain from my face and I would want to puke. I was never introduced to vegetables and so these strange foods were repulsive to my body. It took years for me to enjoy vegetables, to this day there are some I will not eat. While in the process of introducing me to vegetables my mom took me on runs. Unlike vegetables, exercise was easy for me to adopt. I discovered I was a fast runner. I ran every day with my mom and took on elementary school sports. I loved it, loved preparing for track practice, and loved racing other students. During 7th grade, a lot of things changed in my life, due to these changes my running schedule stopped. On top of school and family matters, I had no time for running. I gained weight. When the time came around and I did have a chance to run, it was much harder for me. I ran out of breath faster and my legs were heavy. I no longer enjoyed running anymore. This discovery caused me to gain even more weight. 2020 came around and I wanted to exercise, being stuck in my house made me realize I could work on my weight. My mom helped me find inside exercise moves that I could easily do in my room. I began doing them every day, in the start, it was hard to find motivation but with my mom alongside me, she helped me get up and exercise. Due to my daily exercise, I became obsessed with my weight. I was so focused on being healthy it became unhealthy. I pushed my body strenuously and constantly stared at myself in the mirror, wanting to change the way I looked. Getting back into school helped me a lot. I had so much work on my plate, that in order to do well in my classes I had to stop running so much. Because of school, I gained weight and with amazing peers, I began to stop caring so much about my weight. Nowadays I don't run as much due to an injury I received. I go on jogs occasionally but find myself working out in my room more often. I still have a large sweet tooth and most likely forever will. Although I find myself wanting vegetables at times, seeking the freshness they bring to my body. My health journey has been a long one. I have made lots of changes to my life over the years and am happy where I am. Vegetables and exercise have changed my life extremely, I have learned a lot and am grateful for it.

I was "sold" as a "slave." I was auctioned off, a price was slapped across my face, all because of the color of my skin tone. Towards the end of my sophomore year in high school, a group of students from schools in the area decided to make a group chat on Snapchat. They had named it "slave trade." In the group chat, they had taken photos of biracial, African American students, placed prices on them, and pretended to sell them as slaves. In the group chat, they also spouted hate against the LGBTQ+ community and discussed creating another holocaust against people of color. When becoming aware of this group chat and that I had been posted in it. I had no immediate reaction. Mind you, I was shielded from racism for the majority of my life and so experiencing it was something I had never considered. I had never believed that my so-called friends saw me for the color of my skin vs. my personality. Presented with screenshots of the group chat, my belief was shattered. My world was flipped upside down to discover my "friends" selling me as a "slave" out of humor. My perspective on my town changed within seconds. The breath within me was knocked out instantly. My entire body froze when swiping through the few photos I had received. Tears spilled down my face one after the other. The betrayal I had felt shattered my heart. There I was reading texts about me and other students being talked about as objects, being analyzed for how well we would be as "slaves." The people within the group chat were people I had considered friends, people I had laughed with, and people I had helped pass classes. Those few moments widened my eyes to see that throughout my school years I had experienced racism, I had experienced hate. Only I had viewed it as humorous. This caused me to realize the lack of education in my town. The lack of education on culture, and the amount of segregation my town has. I became angry. With that anger, I chose to speak up. My school had wanted to keep the group chat incident quiet, they did not view it as concerning. I did. My anger had fueled my family I and me to reach out to local news reporters. Only when they showed up at my house, I was scared. I was scared of how my town would view me, how judged I would be. I was scared people would think I was making a big deal out of nothing. But regardless of this fear, I went for it. I put my face and my name out there. Pointing my finger at the education system and calling for action. I created a movement in my town, people were disgusted to learn about this group chat and wanted to help my town progress better. Like anything, I did receive hate, although my supporters outnumbered them immensely. My story reached national news and inspired hundreds along the way. In the end, my efforts were not achieved in my town but they did take a step in the right direction. Looking back, I do not regret pushing my fear away and speaking out. I learned a lot about the world we live in as well as a lot about myself. My story has a lot more to it that I wish I could share. Although only limited to 600 words I hope in some way I inspired you to never let fear hold you back, and let your courage guide you.