My name is Tala Sahab and I am a daughter of two Lebanese immigrants. My entire life I have wanted to help others and to insight change. I hope that a future in political science and law will allow me to do both while using my empathy to an advantage. As a child I viewed Lebanon as this beautiful place that my family came from. Filled with rich history, some of the oldest buildings in the world, and most of my distant family, there was a lot to take in within the two weeks I got to go. At age four I wasn't fully able to comprehend why we would ever have to leave this amazing place where everyone danced on the streets and picked up a cheese manouche on the way home. Fourteen years later I understand why my parents moved and I am overly grateful for their sacrifices. I now recognize the importance of strong leadership and political stability. My parents have put me in a position where I can speak up for myself and I want to carry that same strength into my future career while implementing the empathy and peace I wish could be present within my parents home country. I feel emotions very deeply and have often felt as though that was a burden preventing me from prime productivity. I have made the effort to reframe that and instead treat my empathy as the skill that it is. Having a delicate heart and the ability to feel as deeply as I can is a gift that I do not want to take for granted. The world needs more kindness and deeper understanding. I want to prove that being a politician or lawyer does not equate to being heartless. I want to prove that disclosing emotion is brave and necessary rather than burdensome. I want to prove that stories are what allow for justice and change to occur. Although I may never be able to return to Lebanon, or see my distant family again, the story and legacy will always be within me. This piece of me will forever motivate me to be the best version of myself. I believe that I can offer a perspective that has not been previously voiced. I believe that I am capable of displaying the beauty in my culture that I saw when I was a four year old girl exploring Byblos for the first time. More than anything else, I believe that the backbone of leadership is empathy and awareness, both of which I have been able to obtain through my family's past. I hope to continue to learn and grow throughout the next four years of my life as I continue to make my family proud and prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing my goals.

My name is Tala Sahab and I am a daughter of two Lebanese immigrants. My entire life I have wanted to help others and to insight change. I hope that a future in political science and law will allow me to do both while using my empathy to an advantage. As a child I viewed Lebanon as this beautiful place that my family came from. Filled with rich history, some of the oldest buildings in the world, and most of my distant family, there was a lot to take in within the two weeks I got to go. At age four I wasn't fully able to comprehend why we would ever have to leave this amazing place where everyone danced on the streets and picked up a cheese manouche on the way home. Fourteen years later I understand why my parents moved and I am overly grateful for their sacrifices. I now recognize the importance of strong leadership and political stability. My parents have put me in a position where I can speak up for myself and I want to carry that same strength into my future career while implementing the empathy and peace I wish could be present within my parents home country. I feel emotions very deeply and have often felt as though that was a burden preventing me from prime productivity. I have made the effort to reframe that and instead treat my empathy as the skill that it is. Having a delicate heart and the ability to feel as deeply as I can is a gift that I do not want to take for granted. The world needs more kindness and deeper understanding. I want to prove that being a politician or lawyer does not equate to being heartless. I want to prove that disclosing emotion is brave and necessary rather than burdensome. I want to prove that stories are what allow for justice and change to occur. Although I may never be able to return to Lebanon, or see my distant family again, the story and legacy will always be within me. This piece of me will forever motivate me to be the best version of myself. I believe that I can offer a perspective that has not been previously voiced. I believe that I am capable of displaying the beauty in my culture that I saw when I was a four year old girl exploring Byblos for the first time. More than anything else, I believe that the backbone of leadership is empathy and awareness, both of which I have been able to obtain through my family's past. I hope to continue to learn and grow throughout the next four years of my life as I continue to make my family proud and prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing my goals.

My name is Tala Sahab and I am a daughter of two Lebanese immigrants. My entire life I have wanted to help others and to insight change. I hope that a future in political science and law will allow me to do both while using my empathy to an advantage. As a child I viewed Lebanon as this beautiful place that my family came from. Filled with rich history, some of the oldest buildings in the world, and most of my distant family, there was a lot to take in within the two weeks I got to go. At age four I wasn't fully able to comprehend why we would ever have to leave this amazing place where everyone danced on the streets and picked up a cheese manouche on the way home. Fourteen years later I understand why my parents moved and I am overly grateful for their sacrifices. I now recognize the importance of strong leadership and political stability. My parents have put me in a position where I can speak up for myself and I want to carry that same strength into my future career while implementing the empathy and peace I wish could be present within my parents home country. I feel emotions very deeply and have often felt as though that was a burden preventing me from prime productivity. I have made the effort to reframe that and instead treat my empathy as the skill that it is. Having a delicate heart and the ability to feel as deeply as I can is a gift that I do not want to take for granted. The world needs more kindness and deeper understanding. I want to prove that being a politician or lawyer does not equate to being heartless. I want to prove that disclosing emotion is brave and necessary rather than burdensome. I want to prove that stories are what allow for justice and change to occur. Although I may never be able to return to Lebanon, or see my distant family again, the story and legacy will always be within me. This piece of me will forever motivate me to be the best version of myself. I believe that I can offer a perspective that has not been previously voiced. I believe that I am capable of displaying the beauty in my culture that I saw when I was a four year old girl exploring Byblos for the first time. More than anything else, I believe that the backbone of leadership is empathy and awareness, both of which I have been able to obtain through my family's past. I hope to continue to learn and grow throughout the next four years of my life as I continue to make my family proud and prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing my goals.

My name is Tala Sahab and I am a daughter of two Lebanese immigrants. My entire life I have wanted to help others and to insight change. I hope that a future in political science and law will allow me to do both while using my empathy to an advantage. As a child I viewed Lebanon as this beautiful place that my family came from. Filled with rich history, some of the oldest buildings in the world, and most of my distant family, there was a lot to take in within the two weeks I got to go. At age four I wasn't fully able to comprehend why we would ever have to leave this amazing place where everyone danced on the streets and picked up a cheese manouche on the way home. Fourteen years later I understand why my parents moved and I am overly grateful for their sacrifices. I now recognize the importance of strong leadership and political stability. My parents have put me in a position where I can speak up for myself and I want to carry that same strength into my future career while implementing the empathy and peace I wish could be present within my parents home country. I feel emotions very deeply and have often felt as though that was a burden preventing me from prime productivity. I have made the effort to reframe that and instead treat my empathy as the skill that it is. Having a delicate heart and the ability to feel as deeply as I can is a gift that I do not want to take for granted. The world needs more kindness and deeper understanding. I want to prove that being a politician or lawyer does not equate to being heartless. I want to prove that disclosing emotion is brave and necessary rather than burdensome. I want to prove that stories are what allow for justice and change to occur. Although I may never be able to return to Lebanon, or see my distant family again, the story and legacy will always be within me. This piece of me will forever motivate me to be the best version of myself. I believe that I can offer a perspective that has not been previously voiced. I believe that I am capable of displaying the beauty in my culture that I saw when I was a four year old girl exploring Byblos for the first time. More than anything else, I believe that the backbone of leadership is empathy and awareness, both of which I have been able to obtain through my family's past. I hope to continue to learn and grow throughout the next four years of my life as I continue to make my family proud and prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing my goals.

My name is Tala Sahab and I am a daughter of two Lebanese immigrants. My entire life I have wanted to help others and to insight change. I hope that a future in political science and law will allow me to do both while using my empathy to an advantage. As a child I viewed Lebanon as this beautiful place that my family came from. Filled with rich history, some of the oldest buildings in the world, and most of my distant family, there was a lot to take in within the two weeks I got to go. At age four I wasn't fully able to comprehend why we would ever have to leave this amazing place where everyone danced on the streets and picked up a cheese manouche on the way home. Fourteen years later I understand why my parents moved and I am overly grateful for their sacrifices. I now recognize the importance of strong leadership and political stability. My parents have put me in a position where I can speak up for myself and I want to carry that same strength into my future career while implementing the empathy and peace I wish could be present within my parents home country. I feel emotions very deeply and have often felt as though that was a burden preventing me from prime productivity. I have made the effort to reframe that and instead treat my empathy as the skill that it is. Having a delicate heart and the ability to feel as deeply as I can is a gift that I do not want to take for granted. The world needs more kindness and deeper understanding. I want to prove that being a politician or lawyer does not equate to being heartless. I want to prove that disclosing emotion is brave and necessary rather than burdensome. I want to prove that stories are what allow for justice and change to occur. Although I may never be able to return to Lebanon, or see my distant family again, the story and legacy will always be within me. This piece of me will forever motivate me to be the best version of myself. I believe that I can offer a perspective that has not been previously voiced. I believe that I am capable of displaying the beauty in my culture that I saw when I was a four year old girl exploring Byblos for the first time. More than anything else, I believe that the backbone of leadership is empathy and awareness, both of which I have been able to obtain through my family's past. I hope to continue to learn and grow throughout the next four years of my life as I continue to make my family proud and prove to myself that I am capable of accomplishing my goals.

As a kid I always needed a smock to paint, and would get very upset when cartoon characters only had four fingers. I was particular; very “mature” for my age. "I [paid] attention to things that most people ignore[d]". I now realize that was anxiety displaying itself at age four. I was blessed with parents who wiped my tears and passed jokes on my first world anxieties. Instead of telling me a war story, my dad joked that his teachers made up a “whole new letter” to represent his grades, and coming from a man with a PhD, it made me feel better about my B’s. I eventually felt my worries were something I needed to be able to deal with alone; that I was too old to be a “nervous kid”. I hit a wrong note in band class, whatever. My closest friends won't talk to me, oh well. My grandma’s in the hospital. She'll be ok. I was too old to react with panic. I didn't realize that as I grew, my anxiety grew and evolved with me. What was once being “irrationally” too anxious to sleep became not wanting to wake up. Hitting a wrong note turned into losing my passion; losing that spark meant losing myself. This anxiety had a choke hold over me, but I still had my mom's comfort, my dad’s bad jokes and my brother's big heart. Regardless I felt stranded in my own head. Above all else I am my mother’s child, the same way she is her mother’s child 5,000 miles away or not. That was never something I questioned, until my Teta was gone. Suddenly my mom became the “nervous kid” that needed her mom’s comfort. Comfort that was gone. My mom relying on me through grief helped me learn how to rely on her. My parents made it their life's mission to be present in my life in a way their parents never could be. That sense of support was one I had grown up to expect, even though that was far from reality. I finally started to focus on what I wanted rather than living out of fear of myself. I distanced myself from toxicity, and I began advocating for myself, which turned into advocating for others. I wanted to be that positive spark and support for someone else. I focused on bettering myself by understanding how I could push past my anxiety while still acknowledging its presence. No matter how much I deny it, I’m still that nervous kid. As capable as I’ve always been, my heart still drops when I see a B, I panic when I can’t fall asleep, and looking at Mickey Mouse's hands still makes me uneasy. As much as I slowly heal, find my voice, and regain the spark I lost, that “nervous kid” is still a part of me. Ignoring her won’t discard her. I don’t want to live my life afraid of failure anymore. I want to be defined by my impact, not just my success. I now carry the big heart and the ability to laugh at life that my family has always displayed for me into my own future. I am a better version of my younger self. I’m not being held back by who I used to be. As much as I am self sufficient, it's ok to feel like that little kid who can’t fall asleep. Vulnerability only adds to my strength. No matter how old I get, I will always be my mother’s child.

As a kid I always needed a smock to paint, and would get very upset when cartoon characters only had four fingers. I was particular; very “mature” for my age. I now realize that was anxiety displaying itself at age four. Something as small as seeing a character making mistakes put me on edge, which made my own imperfections feel tragic. I was blessed with parents who wiped my tears and passed jokes on my first world anxieties. Instead of telling me a war story, my dad joked that his teachers made up a “whole new letter” to represent his grades, and coming from a man with a PhD, it made me feel better about my B’s. I eventually felt my worries were something I needed to be able to deal with alone; that I was too old to be a “nervous kid”. I hit a wrong note in band class, whatever. My closest friends won't talk to me, oh well. My grandma’s in the hospital. She'll be ok. I was too old to react with panic. I didn't realize that as I grew, my anxiety grew and evolved with me. What was once being “irrationally” too anxious to sleep became not wanting to wake up. Hitting a wrong note turned into losing my passion; losing that spark meant losing myself. This anxiety had a chokehold over me, but I still had my mom's comfort, my dad’s bad jokes and my brother's big heart. Regardless I felt stranded in my own head. Above all else I am my mother’s child, the same way she is her mother’s child 5,000 miles away or not. That was never something I questioned, until my Teta was gone. Suddenly my mom became the “nervous kid” that needed her mom’s comfort. Comfort that was gone. My mom relying on me through grief helped me learn how to rely on her. My parents made it their life's mission to be present in my life in a way their parents never could be. That sense of support was one I had grown up to expect, even though that was far from reality. I finally started to focus on what I wanted rather than living out of fear of myself. I distanced myself from toxicity, and I began advocating for myself, which turned into advocating for others. I wanted to be that positive spark and support for someone else. I focused on bettering myself by understanding how I could push past my anxiety while still acknowledging its presence. No matter how much I deny it, I’m still that nervous kid. As capable as I’ve always been, my heart still drops when I see a B, I panic when I can’t fall asleep, and looking at Mickey Mouse's hands still makes me uneasy. As much as I slowly heal, find my voice, and regain the spark I lost, that “nervous kid” is still a part of me. Ignoring her won’t discard her. I don’t want to live my life afraid of failure anymore. I want to be defined by my impact, not just my success. I now carry the big heart and the ability to laugh at life that my family has always displayed for me into my own future. I am a better version of my younger self. I’m not being held back by who I used to be. As much as I am self sufficient, it's ok to feel like that little kid who can’t fall asleep. Vulnerability only adds to my strength. No matter how old I get, I will always be my mother’s child.

My deep rooted passion differentiates me from my peers. From when I was in kindergarten I was angered by the boys on the playground screaming that “girls weren’t as strong as boys” which in retrospect is ironic considering the bleak look that would appear on their face once they noticed I was listening the whole time. I always had something to say about the stereotypes, and was stubborn to the point of no return. I demanded justice and equality my whole life, yet I was always brought back to the same few words of “it's not your place to help” ; an answer I could never truly comprehend. Regardless of my young activist antics being received as no more than an angry little girl thinking she has more power than she does, I decided to keep going. I made it clear that I was serious, and didn’t care about the adults I interrupted along the way. As I grew up, those playground teasing evolved to systematic unfairness. From the special ed student on my bus getting mocked for walking to his seat, to teachers making just a little too many looks my way when talking about 9/11, my search for equality never seemed to go dull. Instead of actively searching for ways to fight the situation, I finally started listening to authority. After all, it wasn't “my place”. I always had this urge to leap in and save the day by standing up for someone that couldn’t, but standing up no longer was defending myself to a classmate; it was actively going against systematic issues. I was able to understand why this idea of fighting injustice was so difficult. I understood why bystanders not only existed, but were a majority. Camouflaging to what everyone else does is easy. It takes not only the urge, but the passion to stand up in an unfair scenario. From telling off disrespectful comments from classmates, to allowing girls to run the same distances as the boys in PE, some of my goals had made an impact. It was never my job to fix anything, but as long as I was helping to make a difference in the lives of the members of my community, I would be satisfied with myself. My goals in life all go down to honoring my immigrant parents' legacy. They have tolerated inequity their entire life with education being the only way out of their war ridden country. I only have the opportunities I do because of their infinite sacrifices. With their honor, I also want to complete these goals with the kindness my brother carries into his life daily. He is the nicest person I have ever met, despite facing adversity every day as a neurodivergent kid. They are the biggest role models in my life. I’ve made it my goal to always make it my place to stand up against injustice. I want to keep that passion, drive and persistence to combat the injustice I was too young to understand the complexity of. I want to provide a voice for those who were denied it. I want to honor my family who lived lifelong struggles for my ease, but above all else this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up the fight for justice the way I was consistently advised.

My deep rooted passion differentiates me from my peers. From when I was in kindergarten I was angered by the boys on the playground screaming that “girls weren’t as strong as boys were” which in retrospect is ironic considering the bleak look that would appear on their face once they noticed I was listening the whole time. I always had something to say about the stereotypes, and was stubborn to the point of no return. I demanded justice and equality my whole life, yet I was always brought back to the same few words of “it's not your place to help” ; an answer I could never truly comprehend. Regardless of my young activist antics being received as no more than an angry little girl thinking she has more power than she does, I decided to keep going. I made it clear that I was serious, and didn’t care about the adults I interrupted along the way. As I grew up, those playground teasing evolved to systematic unfairness. From the special ed student on my bus getting mocked for walking to his seat, to teachers making just a little too many looks my way when talking about 9/11, my search for equality never seemed to go dull. Instead of actively searching for ways to fight the situation, I finally started listening to authority. After all, it wasn't “my place”. I always had this urge to leap in and save the day by standing up for someone that couldn’t, but standing up no longer was defending myself to a classmate; it was actively going against systematic issues. I was able to understand why this idea of fighting injustice was so difficult. I understood why bystanders not only existed, but were a majority. Camouflaging to what everyone else does is easy. It takes not only the urge, but the passion to stand up in an unfair scenario. From telling off disrespectful comments from classmates, to allowing girls to run the same distances as the boys in PE, some of my goals had made an impact. It was never my job to fix anything, but as long as I was helping to make a difference in the lives of the members of my community, I would be satisfied with myself. I’ve made it my goal to always make it my place to stand up against injustice. I want to keep that passion, drive and persistence to combat the injustice I was too young to understand the complexity of. I want to provide a voice for those who were denied it. I want to honor my family who lived lifelong struggles for my ease, but above all else this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up the fight for justice the way I was consistently advised.

My entire life I have wanted to help and to serve, it was just a question of how I was going to do that career wise. As a kid I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a speech therapist, then a psychiatrist, until high school where I finally stabilized and knew I wanted to be a lawyer. In fourth grade I got to go to a homeless shelter called the lamb center as a part of a volunteer week within my church. While others my age were horrified by what they saw, I saw it as a mission. I saw the beauty in the jobs of everyone that worked there and the selflessness in their day to day life. I knew that I wanted my career to be selfless and help those who need it. The summer before eighth grade I went on a mission trip to Savannah Georgia where I got to volunteer at many food shelters as well as paint the house of a woman who was an active part of the community. I loved meeting her and talking to her to the point where the 98 degree savannah heat felt worth it. I knew that my career needed to include communication and connection. Then I got into high school where many more service opportunities opened up to me. I became a regular volunteer at the Lamb Center. This time I actually got to interact with all of the people which I greatly valued. This time I noticed that the people that got help from these non profits all fit into some kind of minority. Many were people of color or had some form of health and mental issues with various abilities. I realized the reason that these people ended up in the circumstances they did. Though I was never of the belief that homeless people deserved to be in the circumstance they did, I realized that they had even less control than I had perceived as a child. I knew my career needed to directly acknowledge why one would be in need of help. I was blessed with sensitivity, as annoying as it can be. I feel my emotions strongly to the point where I am able to feel and understand emotions that can be difficult to express. Even when words fail I want to understand, I make it a priority. As a result, I was able to feel the emotions of everyone I had met, which fueled my passion further. I knew my career needed to encapsulate and capitalize on my empathy. I want to continue my service projects though contributing to my community on a larger level. I want to dedicate the next portion of my educational career to learning the tools to combat injustice through legal action so that my career can center around providing a voice for those who were denied it. Those dealt difficult cards. I want to put my accumulated childhood passion for fairness and service, selflessness, connection, and empathy towards efforts to fight for justice.

My entire life I have wanted to help and to serve, it was just a question of how I was going to do that career wise. As a kid I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a speech therapist, then a psychiatrist, until high school where I finally stabilized and knew I wanted to be a lawyer. In fourth grade I got to go to a homeless shelter called the lamb center as a part of a volunteer week within my church. While others my age were horrified by what they saw, I saw it as a mission. I saw the beauty in the jobs of everyone that worked there and the selflessness in their day to day life. I knew that I wanted my career to be selfless and help those who need it. The summer before eighth grade I went on a mission trip to Savannah Georgia where I got to volunteer at many food shelters as well as paint the house of a woman who was an active part of the community. I loved meeting her and talking to her to the point where the 98 degree savannah heat felt worth it. I knew that my career needed to include communication and connection. Then I got into high school where many more service opportunities opened up to me. I became a regular volunteer at the Lamb Center. This time I actually got to interact with all of the people which I greatly valued. This time I noticed that the people that got help from these non profits all fit into some kind of minority. Many were people of color or had some form of health and mental issues with various abilities. I realized the reason that these people ended up in the circumstances they did. Though I was never of the belief that homeless people deserved to be in the circumstance they did, I realized that they had even less control than I had perceived as a child. I knew my career needed to directly acknowledge why one would be in need of help. I was blessed with sensitivity, as annoying as it can be. I feel my emotions strongly to the point where I am able to feel and understand emotions that can be difficult to express. Even when words fail I want to understand, I make it a priority. As a result, I was able to feel the emotions of everyone I had met, which fueled my passion further. I knew my career needed to encapsulate and capitalize on my empathy. I want to continue my service projects though contributing to my community on a larger level. I want to dedicate the next portion of my educational career to learning the tools to combat injustice through legal action so that my career can center around providing a voice for those who were denied it. Those dealt difficult cards. I want to put my accumulated childhood passion for fairness and service, selflessness, connection, and empathy towards efforts to fight for justice.

My entire life I have wanted to help and to serve, it was just a question of how I was going to do that career wise. As a kid I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a speech therapist, then a psychiatrist, until high school where I finally stabilized and knew I wanted to be a lawyer. In fourth grade I got to go to a homeless shelter called the lamb center as a part of a volunteer week within my church. While others my age were horrified by what they saw, I saw it as a mission. I saw the beauty in the jobs of everyone that worked there and the selflessness in their day to day life. I knew that I wanted my career to be selfless and help those who need it. The summer before eighth grade I went on a mission trip to Savannah Georgia where I got to volunteer at many food shelters as well as paint the house of a woman who was an active part of the community. I loved meeting her and talking to her to the point where the 98 degree savannah heat felt worth it. I knew that my career needed to include communication and connection. Then I got into high school where many more service opportunities opened up to me. I became a regular volunteer at the Lamb Center. This time I actually got to interact with all of the people which I greatly valued. This time I noticed that the people that got help from these non profits all fit into some kind of minority. Many were people of color or had some form of health and mental issues with various abilities. I realized the reason that these people ended up in the circumstances they did. Though I was never of the belief that homeless people deserved to be in the circumstance they did, I realized that they had even less control than I had perceived as a child. I knew my career needed to directly acknowledge why one would be in need of help. I was blessed with sensitivity, as annoying as it can be. I feel my emotions strongly to the point where I am able to feel and understand emotions that can be difficult to express. Even when words fail I want to understand, I make it a priority. As a result, I was able to feel the emotions of everyone I had met, which fueled my passion further. I knew my career needed to encapsulate and capitalize on my empathy. I want to continue my service projects though contributing to my community on a larger level. I want to dedicate the next portion of my educational career to learning the tools to combat injustice through legal action so that my career can center around providing a voice for those who were denied it. Those dealt difficult cards. I want to put my accumulated childhood passion for fairness and service, selflessness, connection, and empathy towards efforts to fight for justice.

My entire life I have wanted to help and to serve, it was just a question of how I was going to do that career wise. As a kid I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a speech therapist, then a psychiatrist, until high school where I finally stabilized and knew I wanted to be a lawyer. In fourth grade I got to go to a homeless shelter called the lamb center as a part of a volunteer week within my church. While others my age were horrified by what they saw, I saw it as a mission. I saw the beauty in the jobs of everyone that worked there and the selflessness in their day to day life. I knew that I wanted my career to be selfless and help those who need it. The summer before eighth grade I went on a mission trip to Savannah Georgia where I got to volunteer at many food shelters as well as paint the house of a woman who was an active part of the community. I loved meeting her and talking to her to the point where the 98 degree savannah heat felt worth it. I knew that my career needed to include communication and connection. Then I got into high school where many more service opportunities opened up to me. I became a regular volunteer at the Lamb Center. This time I actually got to interact with all of the people which I greatly valued. This time I noticed that the people that got help from these non profits all fit into some kind of minority. Many were people of color or had some form of health and mental issues with various abilities. I realized the reason that these people ended up in the circumstances they did. Though I was never of the belief that homeless people deserved to be in the circumstance they did, I realized that they had even less control than I had perceived as a child. I knew my career needed to directly acknowledge why one would be in need of help. I was blessed with sensitivity, as annoying as it can be. I feel my emotions strongly to the point where I am able to feel and understand emotions that can be difficult to express. Even when words fail I want to understand, I make it a priority. As a result, I was able to feel the emotions of everyone I had met, which fueled my passion further. I knew my career needed to encapsulate and capitalize on my empathy. I want to continue my service projects though contributing to my community on a larger level. I want to dedicate the next portion of my educational career to learning the tools to combat injustice through legal action so that my career can center around providing a voice for those who were denied it. Those dealt difficult cards. I want to put my accumulated childhood passion for fairness and service, selflessness, connection, and empathy towards efforts to fight for justice.

My entire life I have wanted to help and to serve, it was just a question of how I was going to do that career wise. As a kid I wanted to be a pediatrician, then a speech therapist, then a psychiatrist, until high school where I finally stabilized and knew I wanted to be a lawyer. In fourth grade I got to go to a homeless shelter called the lamb center as a part of a volunteer week within my church. While others my age were horrified by what they saw, I saw it as a mission. I saw the beauty in the jobs of everyone that worked there and the selflessness in their day to day life. I knew that I wanted my career to be selfless and help those who need it. The summer before eighth grade I went on a mission trip to Savannah Georgia where I got to volunteer at many food shelters as well as paint the house of a woman who was an active part of the community. I loved meeting her and talking to her to the point where the 98 degree savannah heat felt worth it. I knew that my career needed to include communication and connection. Then I got into high school where many more service opportunities opened up to me. I became a regular volunteer at the Lamb Center. This time I actually got to interact with all of the people which I greatly valued. This time I noticed that the people that got help from these non profits all fit into some kind of minority. Many were people of color or had some form of health and mental issues with various abilities. I realized the reason that these people ended up in the circumstances they did. Though I was never of the belief that homeless people deserved to be in the circumstance they did, I realized that they had even less control than I had perceived as a child. I knew my career needed to directly acknowledge why one would be in need of help. I was blessed with sensitivity, as annoying as it can be. I feel my emotions strongly to the point where I am able to feel and understand emotions that can be difficult to express. Even when words fail I want to understand, I make it a priority. As a result, I was able to feel the emotions of everyone I had met, which fueled my passion further. I knew my career needed to encapsulate and capitalize on my empathy. I want to continue my service projects though contributing to my community on a larger level. I want to dedicate the next portion of my educational career to learning the tools to combat injustice through legal action so that my career can center around providing a voice for those who were denied it. Those dealt difficult cards. I want to put my accumulated childhood passion for fairness and service, selflessness, connection, and empathy towards efforts to fight for justice.

When I was in kindergarten I was angered by the boys on the playground screaming that “girls weren’t as strong as boys were” which in retrospect is ironic considering the bleak look that would appear on their faces once they noticed I was listening the whole time. I always had something to say about the stereotypes and was stubborn to the point of no return. I demanded justice and equality my whole life, yet I was always brought back to the same few words “It's not your place to help”; an answer I could never truly comprehend. Regardless of my young activist antics being received as no more than an angry little girl thinking she has more power than she does, I decided to keep going. I made it clear that I was serious, and didn’t care about the adults I interrupted along the way. As I grew up, those playground teasing evolved to systematic unfairness. From the special ed student on my bus getting mocked for walking to his seat, to teachers making just a little too many looks my way when talking about 9/11, my search for equality never seemed to go dull. Instead of actively searching for ways to fight the situation, I finally started listening to authority. After all, it wasn't “my place”. I always had this urge to leap in and save the day by standing up for someone that couldn’t, but standing up no longer was defending myself to a classmate; it was actively going against systematic issues. I was able to understand why this idea of fighting injustice was so difficult. I understood why bystanders not only existed but were a majority. Camouflaging what everyone else does is easy. It takes not only the urge but the passion to stand up in an unfair scenario. From telling off disrespectful comments from classmates to allowing girls to run the same distances as the boys in PE, some of my goals had made an impact. It was never my job to fix anything, but as long as I was helping to make a difference in the lives of the members of my community, I would be satisfied with myself. I’ve made it my goal to always make it my place to stand up against injustice. I want to keep that passion, drive and persistence to combat the injustice I was too young to understand the complexity of. I want to provide a voice for those who were denied it. I want to honor my family who lived lifelong struggles for my ease, but above all else, this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up the fight for justice the way I was consistently advised.

My deep rooted passion differentiates me from my peers. From when I was in kindergarten I was angered by the boys on the playground screaming that “girls weren’t as strong as boys were” which in retrospect is ironic considering the bleak look that would appear on their face once they noticed I was listening the whole time. I always had something to say about the stereotypes, and was stubborn to the point of no return. I demanded justice and equality my whole life, yet I was always brought back to the same few words of “it's not your place to help” ; an answer I could never truly comprehend. Regardless of my young activist antics being received as no more than an angry little girl thinking she has more power than she does, I decided to keep going. I made it clear that I was serious, and didn’t care about the adults I interrupted along the way. As I grew up, those playground teasing evolved to systematic unfairness. From the special ed student on my bus getting mocked for walking to his seat, to teachers making just a little too many looks my way when talking about 9/11, my search for equality never seemed to go dull. Instead of actively searching for ways to fight the situation, I finally started listening to authority. After all, it wasn't “my place”. I always had this urge to leap in and save the day by standing up for someone that couldn’t, but standing up no longer was defending myself to a classmate; it was actively going against systematic issues. I was able to understand why this idea of fighting injustice was so difficult. I understood why bystanders not only existed, but were a majority. Camouflaging to what everyone else does is easy. It takes not only the urge, but the passion to stand up in an unfair scenario. From telling off disrespectful comments from classmates, to allowing girls to run the same distances as the boys in PE, some of my goals had made an impact. It was never my job to fix anything, but as long as I was helping to make a difference in the lives of the members of my community, I would be satisfied with myself. I’ve made it my goal to always make it my place to stand up against injustice. I want to keep that passion, drive and persistence to combat the injustice I was too young to understand the complexity of. I want to provide a voice for those who were denied it. I want to honor my family who lived lifelong struggles for my ease, but above all else this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up the fight for justice the way I was consistently advised.

From when I was in kindergarten I was angered by the boys on the playground screaming that “girls weren’t as strong as boys were” which in retrospect is ironic considering the bleak look that would appear on their face once they noticed I was listening the whole time. I always had something to say about the stereotypes, and was stubborn to the point of no return. I demanded justice and equality my whole life, yet I was always brought back to the same few words of “it's not your place to help” ; an answer I could never truly comprehend. Regardless of my young activist antics being received as no more than an angry little girl thinking she has more power than she does, I decided to keep going. I made it clear that I was serious, and didn’t care about the adults I interrupted along the way. As I grew up, those playground teasing evolved to systematic unfairness. From the special ed student on my bus getting mocked for walking to his seat, to teachers making just a little too many looks my way when talking about 9/11, my search for equality never seemed to go dull. Instead of actively searching for ways to fight the situation, I finally started listening to authority. After all, it wasn't “my place”. I always had this urge to leap in and save the day by standing up for someone that couldn’t, but standing up no longer was defending myself to a classmate; it was actively going against systematic issues. I was able to understand why this idea of fighting injustice was so difficult. I understood why bystanders not only existed, but were a majority. Camouflaging to what everyone else does is easy. It takes not only the urge but the passion to stand up in an unfair scenario. From telling off disrespectful comments from classmates, to allowing girls to run the same distances as the boys in PE, some of my goals had made an impact. It was never my job to fix anything, but as long as I was helping to make a difference in the lives of the members of my community, I would be satisfied with myself. I’ve made it my goal to always make it my place to stand up against injustice. I want to keep that passion, drive and persistence to combat the injustice I was too young to understand the complexity of. I want to provide a voice for those who were denied it. I want to honor my family who lived lifelong struggles for my ease, but above all else, this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up the fight for justice the way I was consistently advised.

I want my future self to be someone who restlessly fights for the injustice I was told to give up on as a kid; someone my younger self would admire.

Since I was very young I’ve been passionate about human rights. As a kid, I was bothered by any form of unfairness. I was activating for feminism by the ripe age of seven. Though I always felt powerless and as though I couldn’t help, I always had that urge to step in anyways. The response was always that it wasn’t my place to help. I’ve made it my goal to make it my place. I want to keep that passion and drive to combat the injustice I was too young to solve. I want to go into law to provide a voice for those who were denied it. People like my family who lived in a war-ridden country where they were silenced. Where the closest thing they could do to fight was escape. Above all else, this is for my younger self. I know that she would be proud of me knowing that I didn’t give up on fighting the way I was consistently told to. This scholarship is one step towards self-sufficiency and placing a lesser financial burden on my parents who have dedicated their life to my success. Many of my future goals are based on helping marginalized groups in the way I wish my family could have been helped. Though I am considered too young to fight legal issues head-on, I have used my passion for volunteering and community service where I can make short-term positive impacts on individuals day to day lives. For the past two years, I volunteered at a homeless shelter, it was through my service that I was able to gain a lot of perspective on the rough situations and conditions people in this organization live in. Even past homelessness. I met individuals who had major health issues they couldn’t afford treatment for, parents getting their children taken away from them, and people struggling with substance abuse. I came to realize that beyond just a meal these people needed someone who cared about them and was willing to take the time out of their day to talk to them and more importantly, to listen. These conversations made me realize many of the everyday things I took for granted. Things as simple as staying dry when it rained, and knowing there would be food on my table when I got home. The level of gratitude they had for me listening to their stories and providing them with a meal helped me to learn the value that is found in service and confirmed that that was where my passion lay. I truly believe that community service is a humbling and extremely necessary experience that I think everyone should be part of.