One of my favorite memories with my father is him taking me to the local Barnes & Noble, buying me a cup of Starbucks hot chocolate, and sitting across from each other, engrossed in our respective books. He is one of the most foundational pillars of my life. He obviously raised me, taught me life skills, and has always been there for me in my highs and lows, even if he didn't understand every girl problem I had. My dad, Simon, is a retired staff sergeant who served in the Iraq War. I am so grateful to have a dad who was so involved in my life, to the point my college friends make fun of how he always calls me "baby girl" on my phone. As a Korean American man who grew up in LA in the 80s, he had a very interesting life- living with Mexican gangs, escaping the 1992 LA riots, collecting stamps, while helping his dad (my grandpa) out at his motor shop. It's crazy to think about how my life is so similar but different from his- living between two communities, American and Korean, fluently switching between worlds. From him, I receive my love of history, geography, and linguistics. I remember him urging me to pursue my dreams in college, not just what would be best for my paycheck: how he ended up giving up a history degree at UPenn for a full-ride chemical engineering degree for the money under his family's pressure, but he ended up dropping out anyways. I was very young when he came back from his time serving in Iraq. It has been years, but even now, he suffers from both physical and mental trauma. However, I don't ever remember a time when he's ever used his PTSD to lash out against my mom or me. He's always been the sweetest man- goofy and funny at times. He still sends me pictures of whatever baby animal strolls into our backyard because he knows I like them. He was honorably discharged from the military because of his injuries. Even afterward, mostly bedridden due to his back injuries, he still managed to finish his degree at a local technical college and recover so that he could provide for our family. Only recently, now that I've been living away from home for college, have I been reflecting on how much my dad has impacted my life in positive ways. He's never pressured me to get a good job or get good grades, but only to do my best in whatever I do, and has continuously affirmed his presence for whenever I need help or comfort. I'm continuously grateful that he's never fallen into the "tiger Asian parent" stereotype bucket. He's never taken his role as a father as granted, and never failed to live up to the title. Outside of the home, he's a mechanic at Pepsi, a deacon at church, and a leader in a foreign missions organization. In every role that he's been placed in, he's lived up to it. He's not perfect of course, but he always strives to do his best. He's the reflection of the kind of parent and person I want to be in life. Even though he's suffered so many setbacks in life, that's never stopped him from being a person of character, and never used it as an excuse to complain or be bitter. He's always stepped up in whatever position he's called to. People often ask: what do you want to be when you grow up? I say: I want to be like my dad.

I am currently working towards a dual-bachelor's degree in both Business Information Systems and Middle East Languages and Cultures. Afterward, I hope to also earn a Master's degree in Information Systems. If life finds it so, it is also one of my aspirations to earn a PhD in Middle East International Relations. My vision is that both through my academics and career life, I will be able to marry the humanities and business worlds together. They aren't antithetical to each other, but essential to each other. Whether it is through establishing a microloan fund for displaced refugee communities or working as an educator that bridges the gap between the Middle East and the US, I am confident in my ability to do my best in these levels of academics. Throughout my short 21 years of life, I've always gravitated towards entrepreneurial businesses- whether I'm trying to be a carpenter like Jesus or own my own boba cafe. I plan on working at a large corporation for the first few years of my career to build skill, experience, and network, but it's never been a question that the end goal of my professional life would be to be my own boss. My goal is to acquire logistical and systematical operational expertise through my corporate experience in order to apply the same skills to launching a self-owned business. I would like to establish a workplace where the humanitarian and cross-cultural mission is clear, disability and women's rights are a foremost given, and working is based on cooperation and not needless competition with each other. Although I am definitely by any means perfect, I am very motivated and assured that I will grow to be able to achieve this. It's no secret that owning a business is risky, often with no safety net. You don't need to tell me twice- I've experienced it myself. Trying to earn extra cash for myself over the summer of 2024, I tried reselling popular sneakers. Instead, I got scammed and losing money instead. Although I was discouraged for a little, all that that's taught me is that I need to learn from my mistakes and prepare better for next time. Just move on. Although it is true that many that dabble in entrepreneurship are unsuccessful, I am confident in the community that supports me, and the community that I will continue to find. One of my favorite quotes is "I am not self-made. I am village-made." Just like this, I know that any journey that I choose to take, even if it's not entrepreneurship, I will always have a body of like-minded and loving people to rely on. Those that know nothing about business or politics, but have a ear to listen to my problems. Those that are willing to help me out with my logo design. Those that are savvy with accounting and tech. Those that are willing to sit with me in late nights, discussing future plans for my business. Combined with the excess of knowledge and network that sits in everyone's hands through a simple device called the mobile cellphone, a strong support network, and most of all, the motivation to carry forward, I feel equipped to take on this internal calling of entrepreneurship. I have a long way to learn and grow, and for that, I am grateful and excited. I am privileged to have the network and opportunities that I've been given, and I am committed to building systems that make giving back to the community possible. With all this, I take a careful but confident step forward.

Being Korean-American, I’ve been a translator my whole life. Whether translating emails for my monolingual mother, interpreting sermons, or demystifying the K-BBQ menu, my bilingualism naturally placed me in the role of a "bridge.” Attending Swahili church services in Tacoma, encountering Mormonism in Palestine, and volunteering in an undisclosed Middle Eastern nation from which I’m writing this essay, I became a comfortable native in the in-between of cultures and worlds. My experiences expanded my understanding of “language"— Beyond words on paper or sounds spoken aloud, to the various factors that determine belonging and community. One encounter in Pakistan forced me to confront the assumptions I did not know I carried. In a fancy shopping center, my local friend pointed to a woman donning a t-shirt. He casually remarked that he wants to slap all women without a headscarf; they cause lust. He then thanked me for respecting their culture and wearing traditional clothes. I was speechless. He was one of the kindest people I'd met. In the first 10 minutes that we met, he invited us to his house and bought us food. Speaking fluent English, wearing jeans, and in the beard oil business, I assumed that he was what I considered "modern." I was shocked. Did I incorrectly correlate modernism with Westernization? What caused me to be so shocked by his statement? I struggled to understand his position. I reflected on what causes people to view the world as they do and how those perspectives shape not only individual decisions but entire societies. It became clear that information isn't enough. Especially with modern technology, there’s no lack of information in the world, but that itself doesn’t produce empathy. Only genuine effort, paired with an open mind, bears fruit. It’s the same process as learning any language. Currently, I’m learning Farsi to work with Persian refugees. Although many Persians speak English, speaking their native tongue naturally opens hearts to a kind of connection that a lingua franca cannot. I learned the hard way that there’s no “hack” to this kind of connection. The best way to learn a language is, above all, being willing to make mistakes. One only learns through stepping outside of the bubble, even with the embarrassment it may come with. This principle doesn’t only apply to language learning. In my first year of college, I joined Awaaz, a collegiate South Asian fusion competitive acapella team. As a non-Indian with zero experience in Indian classical music, there was a steep cultural and learning curve. However, I wasn’t there to be a “participant.” I was there to contribute. I immersed myself in the fullness of Awaaz, and eventually, it became my home away from home in college. It'd be easy to stay in my bubble, within my comfortable circle. But if I did that, I would also miss out on the most amazing friendships, most enriching experiences, and the deepest reckonings of my life. Through community-oriented entrepreneurship, enterprise, and cross-cultural partnerships, I want to work alongside displaced and marginalized peoples. I want to use business to build bridges, not reinforce divisions. Specifically, I intend to build a microloan fund for refugee communities in the Middle East and create a cross-cultural consulting firm for ethically minded international business ventures. With these, I hope to use business and finance not as a tool for exploit or personal gain but for communal uplifting. Building, not tearing. If I have learned anything from living in intersections of cultures, it's that bridges don’t build themselves— each brick is placed intentionally, and they determine who gets to cross. Bridges are for crossing, after all.

For years, I was the perfect poster child of my Korean American community: high-achieving, active in church, and musically gifted. But internally, I was eroding. I shamed myself for forgotten keys, the abandoned hobbies, and another hour wasted instead of studying for my calculus test. Not to say that I didn't have a good life- I still had good friends, loving parents, and good grades. But internally, I was always wondering what was wrong with me. Sometimes I would bring it up to my friends as a joke: Hey, do you also get distracted for an hour or two before doing a simple task? The answer was always that yeah, that happens to me too! Don't worry, nothing's wrong with you. I would thank them for the reassurance, but I didn't want to tell them the part where I actually get distracted for 5 hours, and it's every day. However, when I finally received my ADHD diagnosis during my freshman year of college, everything clicked into place. It pronounced both judgment and freedom. I had to learn to undo the shame ingrained in me since childhood, a shame unfortunately prevalent in immigrant communities. Going down a rabbit hole of research into neurodivergence, I was flatly disappointed. Disappointed that physicians are more willing to misdiagnose women of color with BPD or PTSD rather than screening for ADHD or autism. Disappointed that often times, invisible neurodivergence is played down. In the business world—a field rarely known for its focus on disability justice—my friends and classmates would say things like, “Everyone’s a little ADHD.” They mean well, but it reveals the lack of education about conditions like ADHD that are commonly known, but oft misunderstood. Advocacy isn't just about policy or law. It is changing the cultural and societal narrative. Especially while tutoring refugee and underprivileged children, I realized that my ADHD was a blessing in disguise that taught me empathy. I learned it not through textbooks or TED Talks, (no offense to TED Talks), but lived experience as a misunderstood child. Many of these students were labeled "unruly" or "too much" by others, but I saw myself in them. Because I understand how hard it can be to discuss neurological disabilities with immigrant parents, I was able to become the bridge between the kids and the parents, not with judgement or patronization, but cultural sensitivity and understanding. As a Business Information Systems student, it's unfortunate but unsurprising that many common corporate structures—from networking to "hustle culture"—are often catered toward the tastes of neurotypical men in power. This often makes neurodivergent people, especially neurodivergent women of color, wary of even entering the field. I want to use my education to flip this structure. My goal is to build a business centered on disability justice, creating an environment where people will not feel ashamed of their disabilities. An environment where requesting accommodation is not a sign of incapability or weakness, but a right. I used to be ashamed of telling people that I had ADHD. But now I realize that being honest and open about my condition, no matter people’s reactions, would encourage my other disabled peers to also live life to the fullest, whether it be refugee children or my classmates that want to succeed in the business field. I want to be unapologetic and open about my ADHD and my needs as a neurodivergent person in the business field so that others will know that hey, I can be like her too. Because in the end, that’s the kind of role model I needed. I'm here to change the narrative.

One of my favorite memories with my father is him taking me to the local Barnes & Noble, buying me a cup of Starbucks hot chocolate, and sitting across from each other, engrossed in our respective books. He is one of the most foundational pillars of my life. He obviously raised me, taught me life skills, and has always been there for me in my highs and lows, even if he didn't understand every girl problem I had. My dad, Simon, is a retired staff sergeant who served in the Iraq War. I am so grateful to have a dad who was so involved in my life, to the point my college friends make fun of how he always calls me "baby girl" on my phone. As a Korean American man who grew up in LA in the 80s, he had a very interesting life- living with Mexican gangs, escaping the 1992 LA riots, collecting stamps, while helping his dad (my grandpa) out at his motor shop. It's crazy to think about how my life is so similar but different from his- living between two communities, American and Korean, fluently switching between worlds. From him, I receive my love of history, geography, and linguistics. I remember him urging me to pursue my dreams in college, not just what would be best for my paycheck: how he ended up giving up a history degree at UPenn for a full-ride chemical engineering degree for the money under his family's pressure, but he ended up dropping out anyways. I was very young when he came back from his time serving in Iraq. It has been years, but even now, he suffers from both physical and mental trauma. However, I don't ever remember a time when he's ever used his PTSD to lash out against my mom or me. He's always been the sweetest man- goofy and funny at times. He still sends me pictures of whatever baby animal strolls into our backyard because he knows I like them. He was honorably discharged from the military because of his injuries. Even afterward, mostly bedridden due to his back injuries, he still managed to finish his degree at a local technical college and recover so that he could provide for our family. Only recently, now that I've been living away from home for college, have I been reflecting on how much my dad has impacted my life in positive ways. He's never pressured me to get a good job or get good grades, but only to do my best in whatever I do, and has continuously affirmed his presence for whenever I need help or comfort. I'm continuously grateful that he's never fallen into the "tiger Asian parent" stereotype bucket. He's never taken his role as a father as granted, and never failed to live up to the title. Outside of the home, he's a mechanic at Pepsi, a deacon at church, and a leader in a foreign missions organization. In every role that he's been placed in, he's lived up to it. He's not perfect of course, but he always strives to do his best. He's the reflection of the kind of parent and person I want to be in life. Even though he's suffered so many setbacks in life, that's never stopped him from being a person of character, and never used it as an excuse to complain or be bitter. He's always stepped up in whatever position he's called to. People often ask: what do you want to be when you grow up? I say: I want to be like my dad.

I want to study business because I believe that business can connect and change the world. As a Korean-American, I was always surrounded by small business owners in my community— teppanyaki, dry cleaners, and gas station owners. Everyone in the community knew their businesses and respected them for their integrity. Eventually, my dream also became opening a cafe of my own, too. I wanted to serve my community through the magical potion of boba tea. As I grew in age, my eyes were opened to the fact that businesses aren't only local, but global. This is obvious, but it didn't sink in until my study abroad in Pakistan. We delved into a remote mountainous village only accessible by 5 hours of rough driving. In this village with only one "supermarket" made of dirt, the locals sat us down and served us... Pepsi. Although they didn't even have access to bottled water, they had access to a bottle of Pepsi. Unfortunately, I realized that the global nature of business also contributes to its ability to further inequity and exploitation globally, especially in lesser-developed parts of the world. This sobering truth has only made me determined to partake in changing the narrative. I want to develop businesses as tools of empowerment, advancing global equality and progress. I want businesses to be used to uplift communities, not exploit them. Entrepreneurship, my childhood dream, is one tool I plan to utilize for this vision. Whether it be training women in inner-city America to become entrepreneurs after surviving domestic violence or partnering with Mongolian nomads to advertise their wool to the global market, I want to start businesses that focus on solving a community's needs by helping it stand on its own. This is why I am also interested in microfinance, following in the footsteps of Grameen Bank's legendary Muhammad Yunus. Through microloans and creative banking, he allowed poor, rural Bangladeshi communities to thrive and revive their businesses. He not only created a profitable business but utilized innovative strategies to effectively spark generational change in not only one community but his entire nation. Additionally, I am also eyeing the possibility of business consulting. With consulting, I could guide others with hopeful visions to foster positive change through business to actualize their dreams into reality. Through college, I hope to to meet other young people who are passionate about leading change in the world, and gain a global insight into business through the many study abroad options available at my university. The power of business lies in its ability to reach deep within a local community, or also reach far and wide to the other side of the globe. No matter what form it may take, I want to positively impact a community through my business career. Local or overseas, one corner of the world positively changed is one more puzzle piece in creating a better world, slowly but surely. And I believe that business is the key.

"Uhm... It's all good. I don't want to talk about it right now," she stuttered as she fidgeted her feet. Strange. My friend, Taylor, wasn't usually like this. And I could sense in my gut that something wasn't right. My other friend, Liz, was also clearly puzzled. We said our goodbyes, and I wondered what I should do, and if I even should do anything. Who knows if Taylor was just having a bad day? But her mannerisms did not simply indicate a bad day. I texted Liz immediately. - Let's set up a time on Saturday where we can go eat, and bring Taylor along with us. We are going to get to the bottom of this. - Sounds good. We set up a time, decided on a location, invited other friends along, and the day came. Saturday was here. All four of us piled into Liz's car for the drive up to Seattle. Along the ride I felt a weird sensation. Would this actually work? Am I being deceptive, or providing a safe space to share whatever was going on? What if she doesn't want to share? Would this feel pressuring? But I reminded myself that we are friends. And friends are supposed to have a genuine interest in each other's lives, and each other's well beings. And I will never pressure anyone to share. I took a sigh and forced myself to relax. We got ourselves some hotpot to-go. (This was when the COVID restrictions were a little more tight. There was no dine-in). The cramped Toyota sedan wasn't the best place to share a bowl of hot soup, but we made it work nonetheless. We talked and laughed over the food- you know, normal friend things. And maybe it's the magic of eating with your friends at night in a car in a big city, but the conversation slowly steered to sharing our struggles and the things we've been going through in life. When one of my other friends was done sharing, I turned to Taylor. "Hey, what about you? Anything on your mind these days? You didn't seem to be doing so hot the last week when I saw you." Taylor hesitated. "Well, it's not really that big of a deal honestly. No use really sharing." I turned to her. "Dude. Don't say that. We are friends for a reason. No matter how big or small, we gonna care. We ain't gonna judge. Also, clearly this is not just something that's 'not a big deal' for you." Taylor took a breath. She started sharing about how she got into a fight with her parents, her dad started shoving her on the floor, physically, to the point that she got multiple bruises, how her mom stood around and did nothing, said nothing. How this is probably her fault. "I initially didn't want to tell you guys this because I didn't want to burden you guys or anything, but yeah," Taylor finished. Honestly, as a teenager myself, I wasn't sure what to do. Do we call the police? Report the dad? I just told Taylor- "Hey. Do not ever think that you are burdening us by sharing. And whatever you want to do, we will support you and will be with you on the journey." Taylor chose to stay at home. But I never stopped encouraging her to heal her relationship with her family. Most importantly, I tried my best to be a good friend. Not a therapist, not to "fix her," but just be there for her, someone to laugh with, someone to listen to her.

1. I deserve this scholarship because I need to get me some Gucci slides.... please 🙏 2. I want to major in economics and finances in order to become the best tax fraud committer in the world. Additionally, I want to do this to teach and encourage all people to do the same- I strongly believe that tax fraud is the key for marginalized communities to achieve financial success. I will become an advocate and teacher to guide individuals and communities on this noble path. 3. When I used to eat breakfast before school, my stomach would always act up in random times throughout the school day. I'm talking gut-wrenching, stomach-churning, butthole-clenching, and teeth-grinding pain. My school had a rule that we couldn't go to the restroom the first 15 minutes of class- so I would have to wait to go. There were many times I thought I may not make it, but with mental training, lots of leg-shaking and clenching of fists, I am proud to say that I have went through my entire public school career without laying the forbidden brown egg in my pants.