As the Drum Major of the Medford Mustang Marching Band, I have spent the last three years calling “Check” from the podium six feet above the ground after each rep. When I shout “Adjust” with my hands frozen from when I cut off the last note, the 60 musicians and color guard members shuffle into a neater form. When I call “Relax,” they lower their instruments, and life returns to the field. I have become accustomed to the motif of “Check. Adjust. Relax.” as my guiding principle when serving in my community. During “Check,” the marchers look around each other for imperfections or errors. In Medford High School, my eyes were opened to the low levels of civic engagement or lack of representation in the fine arts. During “Adjust,” on the field you change your actions in small ways, and when everyone does it, big change is created. To tackle the injustices that I was passionate about, I directed the Democracy Drive that registered hundreds of students to vote and tackled barriers to affordable instruments to increase diversity. Whether as an MHS tour guide, the Senior Class Secretary, or the Secretary-General of the Model UN, I have served my community by being a leader who puts plans into action. I have learned independence and leadership from my experience in the marching arts and as a cashier, waitress, and host in the food industry. As drum major, my responsibility is to do what needs to be done without being told. I have taken this experience far outside of the band room, and I hope that one day I will tackle the greatest injustices of the world. Maybe soon enough, I will even be able to call "Relax."

I grew up handing out brownies at the Thursday Bread of Life dinners and listening to the voices of local politicians in my kitchen. Dorothy Day, a leading Catholic socialist of the 1930s, once said, “Everyone wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes.” For much of my adolescence, I thought my political rearing—listening to NPR in my mom’s minivan and standing on my tiptoes to place to see her ballot—was the “norm.” It was not until I saw the confused eyes of my peers when I spoke that I realized how unique my circumstances really were. With the Dorothy Day quote in mind, I decided that it was my time to “do the dishes,” and I knew that fighting for social change in the program that I love so much was my calling. Six feet above the ground, when I call set, 60 sets of eyes jolt at me, and until my cut-off, they follow every motion of my hands through tempo changes, crescendos, and impacts. As the drum major (or colloquially known as the conductor), I am responsible for unifying the whole band from the front ensemble to the drumline to the color guard—literally through my tempos and figuratively as the student liaison. While the Medford Mustang Marching Band has given me countless lessons in leadership and music, nothing has influenced me more than my experience fighting for equity in the program that I love so much. When I first joined the marching band in seventh grade, I was excited to be a part of the diverse community. Over the past few years, however, more students of color have graduated than have joined. The barriers to accessibility are evident, but when no one pays them any attention, this tacit complicity becomes symbolic violence. The lack of accessibility to band and orchestra start before students even have the opportunity to pick up an instrument. In Medford Public Schools, 40.5% of the student population qualify as low-income, and over 40% of students identify as non-white. However, instrument rentals range from ​ $162 to $246 per school year. One of the goals of MPS is to provide an equitable and diverse education, but how is this possible with the structural violence and wealth gap stopping students from lower-income households from receiving the enriched music education that they are promised? The lack of access, affordability, and diversity in the performing arts had to be addressed, so I took action with the skills and agency I learned as the drum major. With every hour of research on this topic, I only grew more and more passionate. I assembled dozens of grants and programs to subsidize the cost of instruments, reached out to my friends to start offering free group lessons, and created an action plan to take to the school committee and guidance department. With their input, I devised a long-term program to end discrimination in my school's fine arts—a program that is about equity, not equality. For the first time, seeing children in the high school band room learning the trumpet or xylophone—something they would have been quietly denied—made me emotional. Through my effort, I hope to make the marching band more vibrant and welcoming to all students so that everyone can share the amazing experience that I have had. The marching arts have been both a creative outlet fueled by my love of music and the place where I have learned the power of community. I believe that no student should be denied that opportunity.

That was the moment I knew I had made the right choice. But to start from the beginning, since I was a baby, I have suffered from horrible asthma. I was hospitalized three times before the age of five and have been using a nebulizer and inhalers since. Just like my older sister, my parents signed me up to play soccer, ice skating, and softball in my city's little league when I was five years old, but unlike my sister, my asthma held me back. I could not run for as long as the other kids, and I was embarrassed by my bright red inhaler. My softball and skating careers were short-lived but I was optimistic to continue with soccer because I loved spending the time at practice with my friends. In middle school, my interests shifted to the arts. I loved playing the trombone and performing in musicals like "The Little Mermaid" and "Bye Bye Birdie." While balancing all of these activities as well as soccer, my band director introduced another opportunity - marching band. In my city, middle schoolers are encouraged to join the high school marching band so they can gain experience and become stronger players. At the end of sixth grade, that is what I did, but I was intimidated by all of the older (and much more skilled) players and nervous to learn a new instrument as I had to switch from trombone to baritone horn. After some adjustment, I realized that this was the activity for me, and I felt like I belonged. In the fall, I made the decision to stop playing youth soccer as marching band rehearsals were three nights a week on top of competitions and football games. I was sad to let go of something that had been a part of my life for so long, but I was also eager to see where this new sport took me. Despite the common belief, marching band is both physically and mentally demanding. My first season, I used my inhaler constantly as our show was nine minutes long and holding an eight pound instrument while also blowing huge amounts of air through it takes a lot of endurance. I continued with marching band the following year, and I felt myself get a lot stronger. I returned for the next season, and flash forward a few years, I am now the drum major. As drum major, my job is a lot less labor-intense (minus my shoulders and arms) because I stand on a podium and conduct the show yelling out cues and encouraging the members. I loved conducting our field show last fall, but I honestly missed the being active with marching band and playing baritone. It was at this realization that I decided to join drum corps. Drum corps is the marching band "major league" made up of high school and college students who love this sport and who are willing to spend their entire summer traveling the country performing. I made it into the Spartans Drum and Bugle Corps and every weekend for the past few months, I have spent my time at rehearsals learning music but also doing workouts and getting in shape for marching. I was really nervous that these intense 9-hour rehearsals would bring out my asthma, but I have grown so much from my soccer years that I can go a whole day without a single use of my inhaler. My goals for the future are to continue to play the baritone, something I have learned to love, and to beat asthma once and for all!

To me, the phrase "speaking your mind" entails being true to your values and using your voice to make the changes you want to see in the world but in a respectful war. My personal values include hard work and social justice. I fulfil my values as a class officer, an intern for a legal services organization, and a member of my schools' CCSR (Center for Citizenship and Social Responsibility club) where I speak my mind on many issues. This past year, I organized a voter registration and pre-registration drive to encourage more students to take part in elections, and I partook in speaking about the gender inequalities at our school. I stay committed to speaking my mind through the motivation I have from my role models including Stacey Abrams, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and also people like my mom and my Spanish teacher, Ms. Gomez. These amazing women do, and did, not shy away from speaking their minds against inequalities and following through with real action that can change the world. Through my role models, I have learned to stay passionate about social justice, to not give up hope, and also how to speak my mind, even if it is small or wavering, because the only thing worst is silence. In the future, I hope that my voice encourages others to speak their minds, too.