There isn't a doubt in anyone's mind that there's something amiss in today's world. Since 2020, people have been less and less likely to WANT to interact with others. People have become less sociable and much more isolated, connections becoming more complicated for most. Mix that with the uncertain atmosphere of the Western world, and you'll get a (for lack of better word) bummed out general public. With this in mind, it becomes much more apparent to me that a change needs to come, and come soon. The quickest way to the death of mankind is the death of the spirit. The arts is one of the central things to keeping the human spirit alive, to inspire others to reach out to their neighbors, to advocate for change even when it feels impossible. With my passion for visual arts and cinema, I can create narratives and ideas that shine light on people who may feel alone or hopeless. After college, I want to use my gift to help people rediscover the light within they feel is lost. Art inspires, uplifts, and makes the impossible possible. For most, it's easy to get caught in the constant loop of job and home and job and home again. With my art, I want to remind people that the joy they seek can come from experience. From meeting like minded people, from trying new things, from immersing yourself in the unfamiliar. Joy can come from using your imagination, letting your mind wander or even returning to things that gave you joy before. Each thing I create serves a purpose, and I hope that through my love for both people and art, I inspire people to reach out to their old friends and neighbors. Our community (and our global community) is better when we are together. We have to be our own advocates, our own support system, our own sanctuary. Community is strongest when we bridge the gap. No man is an island, and no human deserves to feel isolated. We're more alike than we think. As an artist, it's my duty to use my gift to reflect the feelings of those who feel alone, or are marginalized by oppressive systems. To not serve my community would be a disservice to the very people who made me who I am. I am eternally indebted to my loved ones in my community, and to use my art as repayment is only fair! Mankind deserves a reminder that we're one, and reaching out isn't as scary as we think. Sometimes, inspiration for thousands can come from just one idea.

There hasn't been a time in my life when stories didn't surround me. Stories inspired me; I found them in my Crucian family, hearing stories of how my mom and her siblings grew up was a familiar song during each gathering. I felt closer to my home island through their voices. I found them in school, among kids like me and nothing like me at the same time. Tales of four-wheelers and Southern living coexisted with tales of a life of nerdy isolation. However, my favorite place to find stories was in movies. I adored the storytelling creativity that movies and TV provide. Thousands of stories about adventure, love, life, and even death took hold of me from an early age. All of these amazing stories, and yet mine seemed the most odd. My story was one about some kid who came from a place that no one's heard of, some kid constantly being asked why I didn't sound like the others. I often found myself questioning the validity of my own story, worrying it wasn't worthy enough to be told. I reveled and buried myself in my art, creating worlds and stories of my own. I filled them with magic and talking cats, eventually filling them with introspection and analysis (and magic still) as I got older. Each thing I created kept me going, kept me full of light. I adored what I did, and I yearned to put my creations on the screens that inspired me. It's easy to write off things you see on TV as mere entertainment. However, it's an art form that millions take for granted. Animation is nowhere near an exception. Most think that animation is just for kids, but the medium is incredibly versatile and transformative. Through my pursuit of concept development in college, I aim to impact the world by helping writers bring their stories to life in colorful and immersive ways. I even aim to create movies of my own! Being a storyteller not only gives you the ability to bring stories to life but also to bring stories that may not otherwise be told to a wider audience. My advocacy is core to my belief systems, as well as my art. If I'm not amplifying someone through my work, what am I doing at all? Black voices, despite changing times, are easily dismissed and ignored by people. As a black and transgender individual, I feel as though it is my calling and my responsibility to shine light on people like myself. I want to include black queer people and other queer persons of color in my work, and the mere act of doing so may save a life. Seeing people like you in the media and things you love can boost your sense of confidence. I should know; watching films like The Watermelon Woman made me feel more secure as a black and queer person. Creatives like Cheryl Dunye made my little creative heart happy, and I want to be able to confidently tell stories that inspire others as well. Telling untold stories makes more people feel seen and heard, and everyone needs to feel seen. This is where people would stop elaborating, I think. But another crucial question to this prompt was WHY I wanted to be an artist. I remember the exact moment I found my why. There were a series of moments, but one defined them all. I was sobbing alone in my room, wishing I were someone else, and wishing I were better than I was. I remember the thoughts I had: "When you're gone, there may be nothing. No friends, no family, no movies, no music, no art, no museums. You'll never draw again." Death was tempting, but the desire to create kept me from going under. There's so much art left for me to see, so many opportunities I've yet to enjoy. Creativity is my life force. I do it for joy, I do it because it comes like breathing. I could never imagine a life without being a filmmaker or an illustrator or a writer, or living without creativity at all. I do it because people who are no longer here can't anymore. I do it for those who feel like they can't. Being an artist truly saved my life in times that felt dark and cold, and gave me an outlet for my anxieties. When the world felt just too scary, I found comfort in immersing myself in the imagination that spilled out onto sketchbook and journal pages. Artists are beacons of light and hope amidst hardship. In a world that has governments that oppress and silence its people, my work (along with other artists across the world) will remind the oppressed that hope remains. Hope remains in love, in action, in choosing joy, in choosing to love the self. Hope remains in community, in lying in the sun, in simply drawing a stick figure. In the same way artistry is revolutionary, the joy found in it (and in the everyday) is just as revolutionary. The conscious decision for any artist to continue to create is an act of protest. Advocacy and artistry are married and inseparable. I am an artist, because if I stopped, my entire world-down to my soul, my philosophy, my mindset, my peace, my light-would disappear. To be an artist is the decision to persist. To dream, to pursue, to shine, to never lose hope. Hope remains in being brave enough to tell your story, and I don't anticipate stopping anytime soon. There's a certain divine freedom to chasing a dream. May we all remember what freed us.

Frame by frame, line after witty line, I’ve always adored the art form that is animation. The impactful stories and worlds put on film are the very things that inspire me to create the very same. As a kid, I created comics and characters of my own, full of lore and elaborate plotlines. I loved what I did, and only loved it more as I grew. As I tried and studied different mediums, I developed new ideas. I created comics, storyboards, short animations, and anything I saw fit to develop a story. I immersed myself in my creations, aiming to make animated features that were both subversive and compelling. Being a black artist, I find it important to incorporate my identity into my work. Making other creators like me feel seen is imperative to not only my goals as an animator, but for the film scene as a whole. Growing up, I never saw kids who looked like me as the nerds that save the world, or as the determined protagonist. As an artist, it’s my honor and my responsibility to not only pursue my biggest dream but make others feel seen in the process. I have every intention of using my gifts as a weapon for good across the board, using my art as a method of advocacy for marginalized voices.

In 1940, Metro Goldwyn Meyer released an animated short film titled The Milky Way, winning the Academy Award for Best Short Film the same year. A little over 70 years later, this film was released on DVD in an award-winning cartoon collection, which would land in the hands of a little kid who only had a DVD player to watch their movies on. I memorized every line and every part of that short film along with every other film in that collection, and it remains in my possession to this day. Alongside the Peanuts franchise, Aardman, and more, these animated masterpieces would live in my mind and soul for years, leading me to fall in love with the medium and the process (as well as growing a very extensive DVD collection). Animation of all sorts compelled me, and I soaked it up in all of its glory. Even then I knew how much it meant to me, and now I’m finally making my dream a reality in college. I watched lots of TV shows and movies growing up, and for as long as I can remember, animation and illustration have been my whole world. Frame by frame and one immersive world after another, I adore every aspect of the medium. I learn so much from the world's directors and artists working together to create and internalize the popular trends and major events at the time as well as the artistic trends. I remember feeling so inspired by watching Emmett become a masterbuilder in The Lego Movie and laughing at Miguel and Tulio's banter in The Road to El Dorado. Out of all things, I felt like I could be as ambitious and determined as the protagonists I looked up to so much, and I saw bits of me in them. As an animator myself, I want to keep bringing that feeling to people everywhere, young and old. Animating dynamic characters that make others feel seen and making stories that can last generations is something I wouldn't trade anything in the world to do. I remember drawing all of my favorite characters, and finally branching off to create my own characters with expansive lore and adventures. Creating is in my being, and after spending years not wanting to be anyone but that being, it'd be a disservice to myself to not pursue something I value so much. I find inspiration from all corners of the world, from literature to sculpture. Art in all of its forms is very dear to my heart, and I hope that my work can not only preserve but encourage people to continue to adore it in years to come. Even in the short stories I read, I find myself conjuring ways to bring it to life in my mind. I've even found myself writing things based on the stories that inspire me. Life is a short ride, and I'd love to spend every second creating.

The earliest memory I have of a video game was watching my cousins play Kingdom Hearts at my uncle's house. Years of our time spent together were surrounded by games and the stories within them, slowly building my admiration and respect for such an unconventional medium. I loved watching my cousins play games and asking a trillion questions about the characters and the paths you could take throughout. I fell in love with games like Final Fantasy and Little Big Planet, their styles and fun nature becoming staples to my art as an adult. When I finally played games on my own, the joy that came from winning my first Pokemon battles were moments of my childhood I'll never forget. I've even met some of my closest friends through our shared passion for gaming, as well as growing up watching other game lovers on YouTube share the fun with a worldwide audience. Finding community through multiplayer gaming helped me feel less alone, and even closer to the friends I already knew. We held each other when games got scary, and made our own inside jokes from it that we still laugh at today. Playing and learning from games benefitted me as a storyteller and an animator, and seeing how creative game developers could get with the medium encouraged me to think outside of the box. To this day, I still hold these games in high regard! Games and gaming even helped me develop a newfound confidence in myself as a black nerd. Being the weird kid at school wasn't desirable, especially since I wasn't at all like the other black kids at school. I'd frequently be met with teasing or being disregarded by my peers. As I grew older, embracing the parts of myself that made me "weird" or "different" made me love myself more, and I couldn't be happier with who I am now. The games that raised me still put a smile on my face, and I can't imagine who I'd be without them. Being an animator now allows me the opportunity to work with game developers to bring a new generation of people games that inspire, uplift, and challenge the ideas of what games can do at all. I believe that of all the ways to tell a story, gaming is arguably the most immersive. You can put yourself in the shoes of the characters you spend time with, relating to them in unexpected ways. Even the music in your favorite games can leave a lasting impression, keeping the memory of every story alive. Gaming changes lives, friendships, and even culture itself. I don't think I'd be me without the games I grew up watching and playing, and the love I have for gaming will always be part of my creative process and my life.

Creativity and imagination have influenced my life in millions of ways, and creating is ingrained into my very being. From a simple idea to an immersive project, my relationship with creativity surpasses even the most timeless stories. The media I enjoyed growing up fueled my desire to create, inspiring me to write, draw, and craft the ideas I conjured. To create worlds with just the stroke of a pencil is a gift I could not be more humbled by. Even amidst hardships and emotional turmoil, my art has always been a reflection of the inner workings of my psyche. Animation is a perfect display of creativity, artistic cohesion and storytelling all at once. My passion for the arts drives me in all facets of my life and my career, and I aim to make stories that impact people in ways never seen before. Storytelling is a rather common way of bringing people together, but it's not often that stories encourage their viwers to look inward, to look at how they love themself. I want to use my gift to inspire others from all walks of life, hoping also use my love for cinema to propel this forward. One of the most magical things you can experience for cheap is sitting in a movie theater with hundreds of strangers, experiencing the same story together. You walk in as strangers, and leave changed (for the better or worse!). Animation and cinema are my first loves, and I know someday the world will see how much I value them

Imagine it: the ultimate crossover. You're sitting on your couch on a Friday after school, and you can stay up for as long as you want for the big premiere. You call your friends on the house phone to see if they're watching along, cuddled up with your favorite snacks and stuffed animals. You've cracked all the codes, you've picked up on all the cues, and you've noticed a new character in the background of the last couple of episodes. Mabel and Dipper have suddenly been catching glimpses of a certain red-haired protagonist lurking about the shadows of Gravity Falls. The day has finally come to reveal who they are, and to your ultimate shock, it was none other than the famed part-time hero, Penn Zero. After accidentally discovering Ford's portal to other dimensions, the heroine stumbles into Gravity Falls in an attempt to get back to his dimension. Alongside his trusted friends Sashi and Boone, Penn sneaks about the mysterious town to find tools and resources to get the portal working again. After being discovered by Dipper at one of Pacifica Northwest's fancy parties, the four have to avoid interacting with the dimension as much as humanly possible so as not to cause a rift in their respective storylines. Despite their efforts, Penn, Sashi, and Boone are discovered by Stan (turns out three people can't fit in a storage closet). Once Ford finds out, he's especially anxious: if the three newcomers stay in this dimension any longer, they're certain to not even exist in their own. Distraught, Penn runs into the forest surrounding the Mystery Shack, allowing his feelings to fester among the trees. A familiar voice calls for him to enter an old cavern, and Penn is lured into a deal with the nefarious Bill Cipher. Just when they're about to shake hands, the episode cuts: it's over. You sit there, mouth agape, phone dropped on the ground in shock. You're freaking out, no, beyond freaking out, going absolutely nuts. In a week that feels like an eternity, it's finally Friday again, and it's time for part two of the episode. This time you go over to your friend's house, stocked up on Cosmic Brownies and CapriSuns for this unforgettable episode. Our story continues with a drastically changed Penn, his friends expressing concern about his new demeanor. He tells them he found someone who can help them get back home, only if they lead Ford to him. Mabel and Dipper are suspicious over the next few days: how come they're asking so many questions about Ford? Why are they looking in his room? Why are they asking about the journals? One night, the Pines twins follow Penn, Sashi, and Boone into the cavern where Bill bribes them once more: if they bring him the Pines twins, they'll be able to go home as soon as they do. But not without a fight: the Pines twins secretly tell Stan and Ford about the trio's plan. When the twins are lured into the forest, their grunkles aren't too far behind. Once the twins are close to Bill, their grunkles leap out and punch him right in the eye! Ford shoves Bill into a jar, throwing the jar into the depths of the Oregon forest. After profuse apologies, Penn, Sashi and Boone are helped home through Ford's repair of the portal. Dipper and Mabel wave goodbye, another crazy summer adventure coming to an end.

I was in maybe third or fourth grade when I started playing Minecraft, back when it was still 99 cents on the App Store. However, my friend had a copy of it on both their tablet and phone, so we'd play together building houses and feeling the horror that comes with mistaking any sound as a creeper. Herobrine was fresh on our minds and Minecraft YouTubers were gaining traction online, shifting the internet in ways unforeseen. As I grew older, I started playing on a console and took my building skills to the next level. I learned more about the fanbase as well, learning about all the fun people have in online play together! I think through all the years of playing, my favorite thing about the game is its artistic potential. People create so many amazing things using just blocks on a screen, and it's truly an amazing feat. From castles to schools to recreating the entire planet, Minecraft players are underrated artists. Recently, one of my close friends introduced me to a Minecraft server that was an exact replica of the beloved theme parks in Orlando, Florida. I've only been to one, so this digital landscape gave me a good idea of what to expect. We explored Universal Studios, and the accuracy was amazing! The creators even got things like restrooms, gift shops, and maps. We even got to ride a few of the rides! Even though it was just a server, it was still a great time pretending to be stuck in queues and paying a ton of money for bottled water. Minecraft is truly an amazing game, and I hope to see people enjoying it for years and years to come.

In an era where isolation and self-preservation are the norm, it's easy for people to fall deep into the discomforts of their mental distress. It's not often that people are willing to open up and choose vulnerability, opting for the illusions of success and perfection rather than the innate humanness of emotion. These are things I frequently struggle with as an artist and as a person. I'm quick to hide from intimacy, and that results in my friendships becoming strained and hard to manage. I think one of the hardest things about avoiding this is trying to remember that I don't exist to appease everyone, and I'm not a perfect person. I don't have to be perfect to be worthy of love, kindness, and friendship. I also have to remember that my anxieties aren't reality, and I have to trust the people around me to tell me their truth. Maintaining my mental health and keeping myself healthy isn't just good for me, it benefits my relationships as well. Keeping my mental health in check is also beneficial for my schooling and my career. Depressive episodes can last ages, and not keeping track of how I feel can have a direct impact on my productivity. Staying mentally healthy looks different for everyone, and in the midst of a depressive episode or mental crisis, everyone has a different "fix-it" plan. For some, it may look like talking to someone you trust or going out on a walk. For me, I like to delve headfirst into my art, drawing up ideas I may not have been able to look at before. I also enjoy rollerskating, taking my mind off of all the things that cause distress in the first place. At times, I also enjoy writing out my feelings, doing it as directly or as artistically as I can. I also let my sadnesses out through poetry, prose is a way I often keep myself afloat. Rollerskating has also been part of my fix-it plan, blending physical exercise with fun keeps my mind clear and my body healthy. Prioritizing mental wellness is part of my everyday routine, whether it be something as small as opening a window or something as big as addressing triggers directly. Even the people I surround myself with can be an indicator of whether or not I prioritize my mental wellness. I can't surround myself with people who don't prioritize their health + mental wellness if I expect to maintain my own.

I think the most terrifying thing about having a family so far apart from each other is the fact that we never know what happens when we aren't together at family events or on random calls together. For over a year, my aunt fought fibroids and similar ailments surrounding her reproductive system. This unfortunately manifested into her battle with cancer, which she lost in the summer of 2023. With the weight of my family's religion and my own relationship with it, the circumstances around my aunt's condition and passing were heavy and almost too much to bear. I hated feeling so alone all of the time, despite mourning alongside my family. What's worse: I felt as though nothing truly changed about our family. I don't feel closer to anyone, and I don't feel like my other aunts and uncles feel closer either. However, in the healing process, I continued to deconstruct my beliefs in life, learning what living looks like for me. My aunt loved trying new things, and she had an adventurous streak to her. She's quick to explore, and that's always something I've loved about her. After my aunt's passing, the importance of pursuing the good in life became more apparent to me. I started abandoning my previous anxieties about the world. Why should I care so much about what others think of me and my identity? Why did I yearn for the approval of others so much? We're all explorers, adventurers in our own right. My new outlook didn't just affect my academics and my dreams, but it affected the way I see myself. I choose to pursue the good because there is so much to enjoy out there, and living in fear isn't living at all.

In the winter of 2022, I rediscovered a television show I only watched through sleepy eyes as a child when my mom left the TV on. The quick-flashing, heavy-metal theme song was undeniable: I had rediscovered the show that defined Adult Swim, Brendon Small's Metalocalypse. Initially, I was shocked at the show's direct and extreme humor. Over time, however, I fell in love with the show's music and storytelling capabilities, telling all of my friends about it as I rewatched it over and over through the first and second years of college. One of my good friends (after ages of asking) watched the show herself and loved it just as much as I did. Not soon after she was done with the show, our biggest dream came true: Brendon Small announced his triple-header tour, Mutilation on a Saturday Night. I attend college in Savannah, and the nearest performance would be in Myrtle Beach. Alongside another good friend of mine, the three of us bought tickets, picked our costumes, and took the four-hour trek to Myrtle Beach, listening to the show's music the whole way. Part of the ride was spent putting together my fake beard, I decided to attend the concert dressed as Pickles the Drummer! Once we made it, I was met with a swarm of metalheads and nerds alike, bonding together over the three bands that changed our lives. Along with Dethklok, famed bands DragonForce and Nekrogoblikon were scheduled to perform that night, and little pieces of my nerdy childhood made themselves known once again. This was my first big metal concert, having only attended small punk and goth shows in Savannah and my hometown of Columbus. My friends and I got perfect places to stand in the venue, and the night was beyond my expectations. Nekrogoblikon Moshpits were extra rough, everyone singing the songs they've memorized for years. Despite the fun times, it was a little scary: being one of the shortest people in the room almost guarantees you get hammered in the pit. When DragonForce played their anthem Through the Fire and Flames, I was turned to pudding in the moshpit (with a complimentary elbow to the head). I think the most disappointing part was the light anxiety I felt being there. I was one of the few black metalheads in the room, and some attendees made it known that I was not a familiar face. I was met with the occasional scowl or sarcastic response when I approached people, the experience partially souring my night. However, the best part was yet to come! After swimming through the crowd, my friends and I managed to make it as close as we could to the front of the venue, right near the stage. We had the perfect view of Dethklok, admiring the guitarists and Brendon's awesome vocals. I knew every word of my favorite songs, my voice almost giving out by the end of the night. It was a little odd though, if people weren't moshing, they were just standing there. My friends and I didn't care: we danced the entire time. After the concert was over, we took the drive back, fighting sleep to keep each other awake as we drove. We slept that night with memories of the coolest night known to man, remembering our fun as gears in the wheel of the klok.

The earliest memory I have of a video game was watching my cousins play Kingdom Hearts at my uncle's house. Years of our time spent together were surrounded by games and the stories within them, slowly building my admiration and respect for such an unconventional medium. I loved watching my cousins play games and asking a trillion questions about the characters and the paths you could take throughout. I fell in love with games like Final Fantasy and Little Big Planet, their styles and fun nature becoming staples to my art as an adult. When I finally played games on my own, the joy that came from winning my first Pokemon battles were moments of my childhood I'll never forget. I've even met some of my closest friends through our shared passion for gaming, as well as growing up watching other game lovers on YouTube share the fun with a worldwide audience. Finding community through multiplayer gaming helped me feel less alone, and even closer to the friends I already knew. We held each other when games got scary, and made our own inside jokes from it that we still laugh at today. Playing and learning from games benefitted me as a storyteller and an animator, and seeing how creative game developers could get with the medium encouraged me to think outside of the box. To this day, I still hold these games in high regard! Games and gaming even helped me develop a newfound confidence in myself as a black nerd. Being the weird kid at school wasn't desirable, especially since I wasn't at all like the other black kids at school. I'd frequently be met with teasing or being disregarded by my peers. As I grew older, embracing the parts of myself that made me "weird" or "different" made me love myself more, and I couldn't be happier with who I am now. The games that raised me still put a smile on my face, and I can't imagine who I'd be without them. Being an animator now allows me the opportunity to work with game developers to bring a new generation of people games that inspire, uplift, and challenge the ideas of what games can do at all. I believe that of all the ways to tell a story, gaming is arguably the most immersive. You can put yourself in the shoes of the characters you spend time with, relating to them in unexpected ways. Even the music in your favorite games can leave a lasting impression, keeping the memory of every story alive. Gaming changes lives, friendships, and even culture itself. I don't think I'd be me without the games I grew up watching and playing, and the love I have for gaming will always be part of my creative process and my life.

Mental turmoil has never been unfamiliar to me, as I've had a deep issue with self-hatred and low self-esteem since kindergarten. No child should question how loved they are, or how wanted they are in this world. Feelings of isolation were second nature, and they followed me as I grew. I wasn't like other kids, and I was frequently targeted for having interests that were "weird". This, as well as feeling like an outcast in my family, gave way to feelings of deep mistrust in people who claimed to care for me. This mistrust caused great rifts in my relationships and friendships, including my relationship with my parents. Instead of allowing the people who care for me to display their care, I shut them out in fear of being hurt again. However, in the process of healing, I learned that allowing myself to trust others is the first step to recovery. Giving my friends the chance to show me they care is better than pushing them away and sabotaging the good that surrounds me. I learned to believe that I am worthy of kindness, no matter how bad I may feel. I now navigate new friendships this way, leaving room for people to show me who they are instead of letting fear take over. I've lost many friends over my issues with trust, but I have been gifted with new friends who see my struggle and are patient with my journey to feeling secure again. That may be the hardest part of healing: being patient with myself in the process. My mental health has definitely had an impact on the way I create and make art, and avoiding perfectionism is not an easy feat. In an industry as demanding as animation, keeping high spirits may be complicated, but I have to navigate my career with not only confidence, but with self-love. My work isn't a reflection of my worth as a person, and allowing myself to receive critique and improve from a place of passion instead of self-loathing became endlessly rewarding. Self-love has been my greatest teacher in a world that will constantly tell you that you aren't good enough. I couldn't ask for a better smile, a better mind, a better body, a better me. I am my own greatest dream, and I think younger me would think so too.

Over the course of my life, I've read hundreds of books, and each one has shown me things I likely wouldn't have seen or known about without their influence. I had most of my fun in fiction, reading books like the Warriors series in elementary school, or corny romances in my later years. Across each title, every page I've turned, there has been one thing that's held true to me: there will always be a story to tell. Fictional or real, short or long, there will always be a story. It's crucial that these stories are not only heard but made accessible to anyone that may need to hear them. I realized that I wanted to work in animation around middle school, after many passionate years of writing, drawing, studying animation, and creating stories for myself. I knew I wanted to share the stories that I never really got to read growing up and incorporate characters that people like me could see in themselves. As I grew older, I also became more aware of the injustices I witnessed on a day-to-day basis. People suffered due to a lack of knowledge and intentional ignorance, and the stories I had hoped hundreds would read only reached a few. For example, I learned about the harsh reality of censorship from books like Fahrenheit 451 in high school, and censorship runs rampant in state legislation and schools today. As an artist, I believe it's my duty to not only convey the things that I feel and experience but to create on behalf of those who don't get the chance to be seen and heard. My closest friends, neighbors, and people within my community have all of the ripple effects of hatred, censorship, and bigotry arriving at their doorsteps, myself included. Now that I'm older, reading books like Fahrenheit 451, Maus, and If Beale Street Could Talk definitely shape the way I navigate my artistry. My art is not only a beautiful way to share an idea, but it's also a weapon against the great big monster of ignorance that looms over our country. Spiegelman's Maus is a perfect example of the way I want to share my ideas, in a way that's digestible yet unashamed of the truth. I'll always have a love for reading, and learning from stories other people have created, but I'll also remember to read the stories that push me to advocate for a better future.

Literature is multifaceted and an extremely vast medium, working as a physical reminder of human history and the inner workings of the mind. The stories between the two covers have always compelled me, inspired me, and pushed me to pursue my own creative endeavors. We often take it for granted in the midst of a digital world, and it's easy to overlook how integral books and stories are to the progression of mankind. Stories can bring us together across cultures and mindsets and can unify our imaginations and hearts for generations. Stories can remind us of our hope for the future as well as the lessons we can learn from the past. One of the stories I think is crucial to read is Art Spiegelman's Maus. Taken from the real retellings of his life and experience during the Holocaust, Spiegelman's father reminds us of the aftereffects of such a baneful ideology and the reality of when bigotry goes too far. I read the first installment of the book in high school, and haven't been able to forget it since. Maus is a harsh yet important read, as we all must remember the horrors that can come from hatred and closed-mindedness. It's easy to say that events like the Holocaust are just things of the past, but the ripple effects are very real and blatant. Maus not only reminds us of those who were lost to the horrors of Auschwitz but reminds us that we must continue to fight in the face of injustices that happen around us every day. Having access to books like this is a right, as well as a key part of education across the board. Maus is just one of many books I wish that more people could read!