Over the two semester, I’ve grown not just as a student, but as a person preparing to take full responsibility for her future. I recently graduated high school at the top 20% with a rigorous academic record, including AP Calculus BC, AP Biology, and advanced coursework in the social sciences. In addition, I also founded, as was the president, of my school's National Technical Honor Society. I led like-minded students and hosted speakers to discuss the role technology has in our developing world and career paths that might interest members. As a member of National Honor Society, I demonstrated leadership by continuing my volunteer journey. Beyond grades, I’ve spent the last year shaping my education around big question: power, identity, and how systems can be reimagined to serve those they often leave behind. This fall, I’ll begin my first year at Wellesley College, where I plan to major in International Relations with a focus on Political Science. I’m excited to study institutions, diplomacy, and governance, but my motivation runs deeper than academics. As a first-generation student paying for college on my own, I carry a very real understanding of what it means to build something from the ground up. I’ve had to be resourceful, independent, and deeply intentional about every opportunity I pursue. I’m also a proud mixed Turkish and Pakistani woman, identities that have shaped not just how I move through the world, but how I plan to change it. I come from cultures often misunderstood or misrepresented on the global stage. That’s part of what drives my passion for politics and storytelling. I want to be part of reshaping the narrative such as advocating for policies and perspectives that reflect the complexity and humanity of people like me. Over the past year, I launched a public writing platform on Substack that focuses on neurodivergence, youth mental health, systemic exclusion, and how current events impact that. As someone who is twice-exceptional (2e), I’ve had to navigate educational and social spaces that weren’t designed for the way I process the world. After years of masking or minimizing that, I turned it into a strength. I research, write, and share insights on topics like executive dysfunction, emotional regulation, and overstimulation—bridging neuroscience and lived experience to create accessible, meaningful content to people just like me. What started as a personal venting outlet has grown into a space where I hope others can feel seen and empowered. Before, I thought that advocacy was only for the rich, powerful, and privileged. It is not. It is for the girls in their rooms. It is for the people who don't understand why everyone seems to just...get it. Advocacy is for all. My long-term goal is to create sustainable change for marginalized communities—especially those who are neurodivergent, from immigrant families, or otherwise excluded from decision-making spaces. I want to build a system that centers care, representation, and equity. I want to fund and design programs that make education and opportunity more accessible. And I want to continue using writing and entrepreneurship as tools for personal transformation. This scholarship would be an incredibly meaningful step on that journey. Paying for college on my own means every dollar matters, and every form of support helps me focus more fully on what I’m there to do: learn, build, and give back. I’m committed to carrying my voice, background, and ambition into spaces that need reimagining. As a Turkish and Pakistani woman, a future policymaker, and a self-funded student, I’m working towards a degree, but more importantly, I’m building a life rooted in purpose, justice, and impact.

I haven’t started college yet, but I’ve already started building something I know will shape the rest of my life. As a twice-exceptional (2e), neurodivergent young woman, I’ve always existed a little outside the mold. I didn’t grow up with a safety net or a clear roadmap, so I built my own—rooted in self-education, lived experience, and a drive to reimagine systems that weren’t made with people like me in mind. Over the past two years, I’ve been developing the foundation of a long-term, purpose-driven venture focused on neurodiversity, mental health, and equity for marginalized youth. What began as private research—trying to understand my own ADHD and autism—evolved into a public writing platform where I break down complex topics like executive dysfunction, emotional regulation, and sensory overwhelm in language that feels human, accessible, and honest. My Substack became a place where others started to feel seen too. That feedback gave me clarity: this wasn’t just a personal outlet. It was the beginning of something bigger. As an underrepresented entrepreneur, I don’t have generational wealth or institutional connections behind me. What I do have is vision, discipline, and lived knowledge of the kinds of gaps most people don’t even notice. I’m currently building out the early stages of a digital ecosystem that combines education, storytelling, and peer support for neurodivergent and mentally ill young people—especially those navigating high-achieving or unsupportive environments without guidance. My mission is to create what I wish existed growing up: not just awareness, but tools; not just visibility, but opportunity. I want to build ventures that employ and empower people who’ve been told they’re “too sensitive,” “too complicated,” or “too much.” I want to redirect attention, resources, and funding toward brains and ideas that have been overlooked or underestimated. And I want to prove that success doesn’t have to come at the cost of wellbeing. I’m starting Wellesley College this fall to study International Relations and Political Science because I believe systems-level thinking is key to long-term change. I want to understand policy as deeply as I understand people, and build solutions that move between both. At the same time, I’m continuing to grow my platform and shape it into a sustainable, mission-led business that centers care, creativity, and justice. Being an underrepresented entrepreneur means you often have to bet on yourself before anyone else will. It means building while healing, creating while learning, and advocating for voices that rarely get a seat at the table. But I don’t just want a seat—I want to reshape the room. Entrepreneurship is how I plan to do that, and I’m just getting started.