With one arm raising a clenched fist and the other clutching a sheet of paper, I ascended to the podium, closed my eyes, and breathed democracy. Fifteen hundred of my brothers and sisters stood before me in a sea of fiery eyes and colorful placards— an epicenter of energy that warmed the chilly March air. The March For Our Lives had reached its terminus: the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis. Heart pounding, I gazed at the floral wreath on the sacred balcony across from me— the spot where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated fifty years ago. Gun violence has always divided my beloved city, but at the moment, we were united by a vein of crimson blood. Clasping the microphone, I reminded the crowd of the validity of their anger and urged them to convert frustration into action. In unison, they chanted for common-sense gun law reform, expecting that our demands would quickly translate into legislation. Yet two years later, our cries are still ignored, dumped into the muddy Mississippi River. Why? The short answer: my generation isn’t being taken seriously, leaving much of our mobilizing talent untapped. Too often, in the eyes of lawmakers, our demands are perceived as illegitimate, our comprehension underestimated, our urgency dismissed. Unfairly, we are characterized as politically detached. How exactly, then, can we clear Gen-Z of this reputation as the forgotten demographic? In the months after the Parkland shooting, I began strategizing a three-pronged plan— amalgamating activism, tech, and entrepreneurship— driven, of course, by youth power. Emboldened by solidarity, I grew a network of local activists representing all ethnicities, orientations, identities, and experiences. They became both my co-workers and my family, and within a few short weeks, I had initiated my city’s first-ever youth-led nonpartisan activist coalition. Shortly after, my team of young visionaries registered 500 new voters, co-hosted two town hall meetings, and delivered a series of digital candidate briefs. Meanwhile, my internship at Planned Parenthood gave me the resources and databases to lead an endorsement project, which, through canvassing and phone banking, culminated in the victory of the first African-American mayor in my county. Ever the advocate for youth solutions, I continued to expand a teen-run startup consulting company called Wavve. Here was a platform to cultivate fresh ideas; as I managed the first cohort of progressive high school problem-solvers, they inspired me as they tackled everything from mental health to climate change. I am but one small, scrawny kid, but in democracy’s potential, I find strength and a home. From organizing rallies to re-writing school policy, I do my best to represent my generation and empower my peers at the forefront of today’s social movements. Though we are diverse in talents, perspectives, and experiences, we are united by our unapologetic idealism in overturning Gen-Z’s stereotype as politically apathetic. Looking forward, I approach the future with optimism because I have faith in what young people can do. My own Gen-Z-powered team has proven unstoppable in innovative initiatives; in forming intersectional networks and engaging with tech, we dare to build coalitions among communities that, in the past, have never worked together. Despite the groundwork laid, I know that my campaign for youth mobilization is still a work in progress. Now in college, I study ethics and public policy in order to gain the knowledge I will need to be a more multifaceted and conscious advocate. I am eager to take advantage of interdisciplinary study— to explore the intersection of politics and civic education, of data science and human psychology, and of philosophy and economics— to learn from different perspectives and build connections among disciplines and issues. Armed with the experience and wisdom gained from college, I hope to return to the podium. Marching forward, I pledge allegiance to the conviction that I can contribute to the construction of a world more open to the voice of youth.