My high school is the most diverse in Oregon, which I'm proud of. But my neighborhood tells a totally different story. It’s a place where gun violence is common, and too many of my friends from elementary and middle school got caught up in gangs. Some have been arrested, and I worry about where they’ll end up. Growing up here taught me a huge lesson: your neighborhood does not need to define who you are, but it is how you show you are a positive addition and embody selflessness. What helped me realize this most clearly was debate. When I walk into the debate room—setting up my stand, firing up my timer, opening ten documents at once—I feel that immediate rush of excitement. My school started offering debate through the Urban Debate League my freshman year. Students from the rich schools had dedicated teachers, travel budgets, and summer camps; I had to grind on my own. I spent hours after school practicing, trying to get better with almost no help. Luckily, some mentors saw something in me and sponsored me to attend Gonzaga University’s summer debate camp on a full scholarship. That summer was a total eye-opener. I learned from amazing debaters from all over, and it just supercharged my passion. Kids from private schools with professional coaches and resources made me think about my situation—my mom working three jobs just so I could have a shot. It made me realize how unfair the system is, that some kids get top-tier coaching handed to them while others like me are on their own. That frustration inspired me to create the Pathway to Debate Institute. It’s a free, one-week online camp specifically for students like me. I pulled together top coaches from across the country and designed a curriculum packed with live workshops, practice debates, and feedback sessions. Running this camp showed me that debate isn’t just about winning awards; it’s a space where students from underfunded schools can find their confidence and voice their ideas. I remember coaching one girl from a tiny school who had never debated. I showed her how to structure her arguments and explain complex topics like Arctic development. When she won her first practice round, her face just lit up with pride—I’ll never forget that moment, and this is how I want to embody my future in my community. Knowing that we can all do our part to get our society to a better place, especially for neighborhoods that others have given up on. I want to fight for justice and fairness, especially for communities like mine. To me, this embodies selflessness. After college, I plan to partner with organizations to bring debate programs into neighborhoods that need them. I want to give students access to coaching and resources so they can compete and grow. I also want to mentor first-gen college students, helping them turn those debate skills into real-world wins—drafting proposals, advocating for policies, and leading community projects. My journey has been shaped by my family’s sacrifices. My mom worked hard so I could have opportunities I never thought possible—like that seven-week debate camp in Michigan. When she dropped me off, I saw other families pulling up in luxury cars, and my mom told me, “Money doesn’t make the person. Never forget where you come from, and never try to be someone you’re not.” That lesson is permanently stuck in my head: stay humble, have integrity, and stay true to myself. Helping others and fighting as the underdog is how I can embody selflessness.

My high school is the most diverse in Oregon, which I'm proud of. But my neighborhood tells a totally different story. It’s a place where gun violence is common, and too many of my friends from elementary and middle school got caught up in gangs. Growing up here taught me a huge lesson: Excellence doesn’t happen because one person does everything themselves. It’s about lifting other people up and showing them they have the power to do great things too. Show up for your community and help create a positive impact. What helped me realize this most clearly was debate. When I walk into the debate room—setting up my stand, firing up my timer, opening ten documents at once—I feel that immediate rush of excitement. My school started offering debate through the Urban Debate League my freshman year. Students from the rich schools had dedicated teachers, travel budgets, and summer camps; I had to grind on my own. I spent hours after school practicing, trying to get better with almost no help. Luckily, some mentors saw something in me and sponsored me to attend Gonzaga University’s summer debate camp on a full scholarship. That summer was a total eye-opener. I learned from amazing debaters from all over, and it just supercharged my passion. Kids from private schools with professional coaches and resources made me think about my situation—my mom working three jobs just so I could have a shot. It made me realize how unfair the system is, that some kids get top-tier coaching handed to them, while others like me are on their own. That frustration inspired me to create the Pathway to Debate Institute. It’s a free, one-week online camp specifically for students like me. I pulled together top coaches from across the country and designed a curriculum packed with live workshops, practice debates, and feedback sessions. Running this camp showed me that debate isn’t just about winning awards; it’s a space where students from underfunded schools can find their confidence and voice their ideas. I remember coaching one girl from a tiny school who had never debated. I showed her how to structure her arguments and explain complex topics like Arctic development. When she won her first practice round, her face just lit up with pride—I’ll never forget that moment, and this is how I want to make an impact, one community at a time. Looking ahead, I want to become a lawyer. and study business. I want to fight for justice and fairness, especially for communities like mine. Making a positive impact on society and hopefully the world, I hope to make a real difference—challenging inequality and helping others. After college, I plan to partner with organizations to bring debate programs into neighborhoods that need them. I want to give students access to coaching, resources, and travel opportunities so they can compete and grow. I also want to mentor first-gen college students, helping them turn those debate skills into real-world wins—drafting proposals, advocating for policies, and leading community projects. My journey has been shaped by my family’s sacrifices, like attending a seven-week debate camp in Michigan. When my mom dropped me off, I saw other families pulling up in luxury cars, and my mom told me, “Money doesn’t make the person. Never forget where you come from, and never try to be someone you’re not.” That lesson is permanently stuck in my head: stay humble, have integrity, and stay true to myself. Helping others and fighting as the underdog is what I will do to make a positive impact in the world.

My high school is the most diverse in Oregon, which I'm proud of. But my neighborhood tells a totally different story. It’s a place where gun violence is common, and too many of my friends from elementary and middle school got caught up in gangs. Some have been arrested, and I worry about where they’ll end up. Growing up here taught me a huge lesson: Excellence doesn’t happen because one person does everything themselves. It’s about lifting other people up and showing them they have the power to do great things too. That is Black excellence to me. What helped me realize this most clearly was debate. When I walk into the debate room—setting up my stand, firing up my timer, opening ten documents at once—I feel that immediate rush of excitement. My school started offering debate through the Urban Debate League my freshman year. Students from the rich schools had dedicated teachers, travel budgets, and summer camps; I had to grind on my own. I spent hours after school practicing, trying to get better with almost no help. Luckily, some mentors saw something in me and sponsored me to attend Gonzaga University’s summer debate camp on a full scholarship. That summer was a total eye-opener. I learned from amazing debaters from all over, and it just supercharged my passion. Kids from private schools with professional coaches and resources made me think about my situation—my mom working three jobs just so I could have a shot. It made me realize how unfair the system is, that some kids get top-tier coaching handed to them, while others like me are on their own. That frustration inspired me to create the Pathway to Debate Institute. It’s a free, one-week online camp specifically for students like me. I pulled together top coaches from across the country and designed a curriculum packed with live workshops, practice debates, and feedback sessions. Running this camp showed me that debate isn’t just about winning awards; it’s a space where students from underfunded schools can find their confidence and voice their ideas. I remember coaching one girl from a tiny school who had never debated. I showed her how to structure her arguments and explain complex topics like Arctic development. When she won her first practice round, her face just lit up with pride—I’ll never forget that moment, and this is how I want to embody Black excellence daily. Looking ahead, I want to become a lawyer. I want to fight for justice and fairness, especially for communities like mine. To me, this is Black Excellence. I hope to make a real difference—challenging inequality and helping others find their footing. After college, I plan to partner with organizations like the NAUDL to bring debate programs into neighborhoods that need them. I want to give students access to coaching, resources, and travel opportunities so they can compete and grow. I also want to mentor first-gen college students, helping them turn those debate skills into real-world wins—drafting proposals, advocating for policies, and leading community projects. My journey has been shaped by my family’s sacrifices. My mom worked nonstop so I could have opportunities I never thought possible—like that seven-week debate camp in Michigan. When she dropped me off, I saw other families pulling up in luxury cars, and my mom told me, “Money doesn’t make the person. Never forget where you come from, and never try to be someone you’re not.” That lesson is permanently stuck in my head: stay humble, have integrity, and stay true to myself. Helping others and fighting as the underdog is Black Excellence to me.

Every Wednesday at 8 a.m., I pack my black Nike bag: CeraVe wash, a hairbrush, my laptop, and whatever homework still needs finishing. To most people, it’s just a bag. For me, it’s a weekly passport between two very different worlds—Black and white—and the weight of everything I’ve had to learn to navigate in between. At my dad’s house, dinner—Dave’s Hot Chicken—gets eaten in silence while he works in his office. On weekends, the house flips into loud jokes, André 3000, and my grandma asking about school. I laugh along, but one wrong comment and suddenly I’m the “white-washed cousin.” When Friday comes, I switch worlds again and go to my mom’s house, where questions about homework and college apps start before I can even take off my backpack. I pretend to be annoyed, but she’s the one who pushes me and makes sure I don’t lose sight of my future. Balancing two cultures without a guide has never been easy, but that’s only part of what I’ve had to overcome. I also attend the most diverse high school in Oregon, where the challenges go far beyond academics. Some days I walk through hallways that feel like two different realities: classrooms full of students who want to succeed and bathrooms where people vape, drink, or fight. It isn’t unusual to hear about gang activity near campus or see students slipping into the bathroom during class to smoke. It would have been easy to get pulled into the distractions or the chaos around me. Instead, I made a choice. I stayed focused. I poured myself into school and earned a 4.2 GPA. I led my debate team—one I helped build from scratch—to win a national championship and to represent Oregon this spring. I became a varsity soccer player. I learned how to keep my head down when I needed to, speak up when it mattered, and push forward even when the environment around me made that harder than most people realize. My experiences—switching between two households, navigating two cultures, and learning to succeed in a school where the odds aren’t always in our favor—are exactly why students from disadvantaged backgrounds deserve opportunities like this grant. Many of us carry invisible weight: financial stress, unstable environments, or cultural barriers that require resilience long before we ever step into a college classroom. Yet we still rise. We still aim higher. I want to be a lawyer one day, someone who understands what it feels like to live between worlds and who uses that understanding to advocate for others. Support through this grant would ease the financial pressure of tuition and books, allowing me to fully focus on becoming the first person in my family to enter the legal field. This grant wouldn’t just help me afford college—it would help me turn every challenge I’ve faced into the foundation of the future I’m determined to build.

People stop and stare at beautiful people all over the world; it’s just human nature. The internet and popular TV shows have created a global society where beauty has become a trend, and suddenly, people start looking pretty similar. Because of these beauty standards, shows like Love Island have become wildly popular among people from all walks of life. I watch the show myself, and I’ve even caught my mom watching it! She chats about who she likes and doesn’t like with her sister, as though they personally know the contestants—or maybe just had a recent argument with one of them! Love Island is basically a gathering of some of the most gorgeous men and women you’ll ever see in one place. But here’s the catch: beauty can only get you so far. What if these couples, who clearly focused more on looks than substance, were put to the test? Imagine them sitting down for a few hours to actually get to know each other. Spoiler alert: some of those conversations would probably be as shallow as a kiddie pool. Now, here’s my challenge idea: take those couples somewhere private with no cameras, no distractions, and no scripted lines. Just two people, a quiet room, and maybe a prompt or two. Then, throw them into a game show like the Newlywed Game—but instead of celebrating love, the game exposes just how little they actually know about each other. I can already picture it: “What’s your partner’s favorite movie?” And one of them shrugs, “Wait… you have a favorite movie?” It’d be hilarious watching these beauty-focused couples stumble through questions, completely blindsided by the fact that they have no idea what makes their partner tick beyond abs and tans. “What’s your partner’s biggest fear?” “Uh… fear of bad WiFi?” The awkward silence would be priceless. The couples who actually paid attention would breeze through, while the others would be scrambling to guess or embarrassingly admit, “I thought you were just here for the beach views.” The winner could score a romantic dinner or a getaway—if they survive the game, that is. But more importantly, the game would force contestants to realize that there’s more to love than just looking good in a bikini or flexing in front of the mirror. It might even inspire some real conversations—and maybe save a couple of relationships before they go public. At the end of the day, Love Island might be famous for its stunning cast, but lasting relationships need a little more than surface-level appeal. Adding a goofy, revealing game show twist could make the drama more entertaining and the connections more genuine—and give us all a good laugh along the way.

Have you ever been in a community but did not feel like you quite belonged? Well, that was me my freshman year walking down the halls. I played soccer and had friends but I knew I had not found my calling but wasn't sure what it was. Then one day, I saw a flier promoting debate in Oregon schools that had not had a team. That moment has become a pivotal moment in the rest of my high-school years. It not only shaped me as a person, it gave me a purpose, motivation and confidence in pursuing my future dreams. I called the Urban League and Parkrose started a team which became my community within the larger high school community. I became team captain my sophomore year and helped recruit other members. I started working hard on policy debate and even won rounds against other Oregon schools. It lead to a full scholarship to debate camp at Gonzaga University, where I not only got to learn from great coaches, I met new friends and could see what college life would be like. There, I learned from other people, became more independent and realized there is a lot of things outside of my home and neighborhood. When I returned to my school as a Junior, I was confident in the community that was around me, and realized debate was something I was good at and I knew I wanted to pursue a school route in becoming a lawyer. This year, I went to nationals and won! I have had the opportunity of traveling to Iowa, Kentucky, Chicago and Atlanta representing Oregon-my community and a place many have never been to. Many schools we have gone against have been private boarding schools with debate classes offered and summer studies. I never let this worry me and instead, it motivated me to work harder. I spent many hours after school practicing and had to fundraise money for travel expenses. This has become my community within the walls of a larger community of high school students. This summer, I was accepted to the University of Michigan for a month long policy debate camp. My mother worked an extra job so I could attend as there is not scholarships offered. I know this will take me to another group of students similar to my passion and I will be able to meet people all over the country before I return back to my community. My goal for this next year is to start and help younger students learn debate so our community continues to have debate offered as an extra curricular and does not fade out. I truly believe it has made me a better thinker, learner, speaker and gave me a purpose and passion to pursue college with a strong debate team. I also do not forget where I come from. I am proud that I come from Parkrose-one of the most diverse school districts in the state of Oregon. That, as underdogs in the debate community, we went to nationals and won! I brought back medals and a scholarship check for my future college. As I get older and reflect, I think everyone can find community wherever they are. When you find your passion and interests, you can find others that are like minded. But, you should always remain true to yourself and be proud of who you are, and how your surroundings have shaped you into the person you have become. And I have lived my entire life in Oregon which will always be my true community.

My school is one of the most diverse schools in the state of Oregon. As a black student, I have appreciated that there are students that represent all cultures but I have also seen that many are disconnected from school. Although we have teachers of color, many are not in the classroom but are there in other ways to support. I also have seem that students are not given the same opportunities as other schools due to lack of finances. I have worked hard and taken AP classes that have been offered knowing that I want to become a Lawyer and Teacher someday.Im passionate about debate and mostly within urban settings. I was given the opportunity at my school to join and within two years, I have been competing nationally and have won competitions. Unlike all the other schools, our school does not have a debate class. So, we have to study after school and on our own. This puts us at a disadvantage but we have worked hard to become first place in our division and have made it to nationals where we were competing with Prep academies, boarding schools and overall schools with high income and a lot more classes offered to them. This year, we won second place against many schools in America that have the funding and classes to support the program. We have had to use go fund me and we were featured on the local news that helped us fund our trips. My goal is to teach debate at local middle schools that do not have a program. The skills you receive can help you with higher level thinking skills and arguments that are needed to go onto higher education. Many students just need an extra outlet and encouragement that they can do the same things that other higher income schools(mostly white) are doing. I believe that helping others see that they too can have the same opportunity AND succeed will help them gain the confidence that is needed to do other things once they graduate. As the captain of my debate team for my school, I would love to see more Urban schools offer this class which will allow for students to receive the skills they need for their future. This has improved my speaking skills, thinking skills, vocabulary and overall a stronger self-worth. I want to see this be offered in all the lower income and diverse school.