People often speak about the American Dream as though it is something material: wealth, status, a title, a perfect life. To me, it's something far more meaningful. The American Dream is the realization that I have the freedom to define success for myself, and I define it by the number of lives I can change. Growing up between different cultures taught me that opportunity is not distributed equally. As a non-citizen pursuing my education in the United States, I became aware of invisible barriers very early on. There are opportunities you qualify for academically but cannot fully access because of citizenship status or financial limitations. Yet those experiences never made me smaller. They made me more determined to build a future rooted in purpose rather than limitation. My understanding of success was shaped largely by watching my family sacrifice comfort and certainty so I could have opportunities they never did. Their resilience changed the way I view ambition. I realized that achievement means very little if it exists only for yourself. Real success lies in what you are able to create for others once you reach it. That belief is what inspired me to found Comp-Sci for Girls, a mentorship initiative dedicated to helping younger students feel more confident entering technical spaces. I worked with students who were intelligent and curious but often doubted whether they belonged in computer science at all. Watching someone slowly gain confidence in their own abilities changed the way I thought about impact. I realized that changing a life rarely happens in one dramatic moment. More often, it happens quietly through encouragement, patience, and the decision to believe in someone before they fully believe in themselves. Those experiences continue to shape the future I want for myself. As a computer science student at Northeastern University, I am fascinated by technology because of its ability to improve human lives at scale. I hope to eventually create products, systems, or businesses that solve meaningful problems and make opportunities more accessible to people who have traditionally been overlooked. I want my work to matter beyond profit or recognition. During my internship with Expo City Dubai, I worked with visitor data to improve user experiences and support strategic decisions. What stayed with me most was the realization that every piece of data represented a real human experience. It reinforced the idea that meaningful work is ultimately about people. To me, the beauty of the American Dream is that it allows individuals to define fulfillment on their own terms. For some, success may mean financial security. For others, it may mean freedom or stability. For me, success means impact. It means building a life so full of purpose that the people around me are better because I existed within it. I know my path will not be perfectly linear. There will always be uncertainty attached to immigration, opportunity, and the future. But I have learned that resilience is built when you continue moving forward despite uncertainty. The American Dream is not the promise of an easy life. It is the possibility that through perseverance, vision, and hard work, you can still create one that is meaningful. At the end of my life, I do not want to measure success by income, titles, or prestige. I want to measure it by the communities I contributed to, the opportunities I created for others, and the lives I helped shape for the better. If I can use my education, ambition, and experiences to leave even a small positive mark on the world, then I will consider myself successful. That is my American Dream.

I have never seen computer science and philosophy as separate pursuits. To me, they are two sides of the same question: how do we build systems, whether lines of code or frameworks of thought, that actually serve people well? My computer science goals are ambitious. I want to found a technology company, build products that solve real problems at scale, and work at the intersection of data and artificial intelligence to uncover insights that drive meaningful change. I am drawn to the idea of building something from nothing, of taking a problem that feels overwhelming and engineering a solution that makes someone's life tangibly better. Every project I have worked on, from a full-stack wardrobe platform to a Flask application aggregating data for thousands of universities, has reinforced that belief. I do not just want to write code. I want to build things that last and that matter. But my goals do not stop at the technical. I am studying philosophy alongside computer science deliberately, because I believe that the hardest questions in technology are not engineering problems. They are ethical ones. Who gets access to the tools we build? Who gets left out? What do we owe the people whose data we collect and whose lives our systems touch? These are philosophical questions, and I think the tech industry suffers deeply when the people building products have never been trained to ask them. Outside of computer science entirely, I care deeply about advocacy for women and girls in tech. Being the only girl in my computer science class was not just uncomfortable. It was a signal that something was structurally wrong. Founding Comp-Sci for Girls was my first real answer to that signal, and it will not be my last. I want to continue building communities, mentorship pipelines, and platforms that make it easier for girls to see themselves in this field before they ever feel like they do not belong. The place where all of these goals converge is the vision I am working toward: a technology company that is not only technically excellent but ethically grounded, one that builds with underrepresented communities rather than around them. I want to use data and AI to surface inequities and design products that address them. I want the culture of whatever I build to reflect the belief that diversity is not a metric to hit but a prerequisite for building well. Computer science gives me the tools. Philosophy gives me the framework. Advocacy gives me the why. I do not see these as competing priorities pulling me in different directions. I see them as a foundation, and I am just getting started building on it.

I did not come to cybersecurity through a textbook. I came to it through fear. When someone close to me had their accounts compromised, I watched helplessly as their personal information, their privacy, and their sense of safety were stripped away in a matter of hours. What struck me most was not just the violation itself, but how vulnerable they felt afterward, and how little they had known to protect themselves in the first place. That experience stayed with me. It made me angry in the best possible way, the kind of anger that does not simmer into resentment but instead sharpens into purpose. I am early in my cybersecurity journey. I will not pretend otherwise. But I believe that honest beginnings matter, and mine is rooted in something real: a moment where I saw technology fail someone I cared about, and decided I wanted to be part of fixing that. As a Computer Science student at Northeastern University, I have been building a foundation in systems thinking, databases, and software design. Through projects like building a full-stack wardrobe platform with secure authentication and user data isolation, I have begun to understand how much deliberate care goes into keeping people's information safe, and how easy it is to get wrong. Every time I implement a security feature, I think about the person on the other side of that system, trusting that someone built it with them in mind. The challenge I face right now is the gap between where I am and where I want to be. Cybersecurity is a deep and rapidly evolving field, and stepping into it without a dedicated background can feel intimidating. But I have learned, through founding Comp-Sci for Girls and supporting students who doubted whether they belonged in tech, that the most important thing is not to wait until you feel ready. It is to start, stay curious, and build deliberately. What drives me forward is a specific vision. The communities most harmed by digital insecurity, low-income households, underrepresented minorities, people with limited access to technical literacy, are often the least protected. They are targeted precisely because they are seen as vulnerable. I want to change that. I want to build tools, resources, and systems that bring real digital protection to people who have historically been left out of those conversations. Cybersecurity, at its core, is about trust. It is about making sure that when someone interacts with technology, they are not punished for it. That principle connects directly to everything I care about: equity, access, and using technical skills in service of people rather than profit. I am just beginning. But I am beginning with clarity about why it matters, and that feels like the most important foundation of all.

Growing up, I was always drawn to problem-solving, and computer science felt like the ultimate outlet for that curiosity. But when I walked into my first computer science class and looked around the room, my heart sank a little. I was the only girl there. Not one of a few. The only one. In that moment, something shifted in me. I did not feel defeated. I felt determined. That experience opened my eyes to something that bothered me deeply: the people around me in classrooms, coding communities, and online spaces did not reflect the full diversity of people who deserved to be there. Girls were underrepresented, and many of them were not lacking talent or drive. They were lacking access, encouragement, and someone to tell them they belonged. That realization is what led me to found Comp-Sci for Girls in 2023. I was not a seasoned professional or an expert with decades of experience. I was a student myself, still figuring things out. But I knew enough to help, and more importantly, I knew what it felt like to sit alone in a room and wonder if you were supposed to be there. So I built a space where no girl would ever have to feel that way. Starting from nothing, I grew Comp-Sci for Girls into a remote mentorship community supporting over 30 students. I recruited and led a team of five tutors, designed structured learning workflows on Discord, and curated resources that met students where they were, not where we assumed they should be. Every appointment scheduled, every question answered, every small breakthrough a student had reminded me why this work mattered. There is something deeply moving about watching someone go from feeling lost in a subject to lighting up because something finally clicked. I got to witness that transformation over and over again, and it never got old. What I learned from building this community goes far beyond technical skills. I learned that showing up once is not enough. Sustainable support requires structure, consistency, and genuine care for the people you are trying to help. I learned that mentorship is not about having all the answers. It is about creating a space where questions are welcomed and curiosity is celebrated. And I learned that when you invest in someone's confidence early, the ripple effects reach far beyond what you can see. Looking ahead, I do not see my commitment to helping others as something separate from my technical work. I see them as inseparable. As I continue building my skills in software development and data systems, I want to create tools that scale access to mentorship and education. Platforms that connect students with guidance, that surface opportunities they might otherwise never find, and that make the learning journey feel less isolating. Technology has the power to multiply the impact of human generosity, and I want to be someone who builds with that purpose in mind. I am still learning. I am still growing. But I carry with me everything that experience taught me: that you do not have to wait until you are perfect to start making a difference. Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is simply reach back and help someone who is a few steps behind you find their footing.