Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a fascination with heroes, specifically someone like Wonder Woman, an individual people can look up to and seek out for help the moment they need it. Then, as I grew older, I still wanted to be a hero, but rather than someone like Wonder Woman, who had superpowers and saved people through physical fighting, I wanted to be someone who could protect people through the power of my words and the knowledge I have about a powerful system that impacts almost everybody at some point in their life: the courts and justice system. I have always known that the world was full of people who made bad decisions or were inherently bad, which is why I wanted to be a hero like Wonder Woman. However, as I grew up and saw the true atrocities people can commit or be accused of, I knew I wanted to do something about it, especially after learning there are real-life villains in the world. After this realization, I took the time in high school to study the law, both by joining the Mock Trial Team and by enrolling in an Associate’s Degree program during my junior year. Both things made me realize just how much I truly loved the law, along with how many things could go wrong in the justice system. I want to go to law school because I want to become an attorney who is trusted by the people I work with and fights for justice within the criminal justice system. There are too many circumstances where a defendant does not have the appropriate counsel they deserve, which in turn results in some people being incarcerated for a crime they did not commit. Those individuals, regardless of whether they are guilty of the accusations or not, deserve to have the same kindness, understanding, and empathy as the people uninvolved in the justice system, and I want to be the person to guarantee them those things. The reason why Wonder Woman inspired me so much both as a child and as a woman today is because of the kindness, listening, and empathy she gave to everybody around her, including the people who may not have treated her with respect. Her whole purpose and motivation behind her work were built on her kindness and belief that the world should be a peaceful, compassionate place for people to live in. I carry that same sense of justice and want to ensure society today can feel comfortable with the very system that is supposed to be doing what Wonder Woman does for her people: protect and serve. The things that heroes do in comic books should not be limited to just a story. The world that heroes, especially Wonder Woman, work to maintain and keep peaceful should always be reflected in real life, and that is exactly what I want to do; I want to extend societal peace through the justice system using the kindness, listening, and empathy that not just Wonder Woman, but every hero carries with them. That is my way of following in their footsteps.

If I could see my 7-year-old self and tell her both my parents retired from service, she would jump for joy, knowing she could hug them every day instead of once every six months. But if I could see my 14-year-old self and tell her that everything would be alright after my dad quit his job to start his own company, she would not believe his success and the inspiration she would get from him. Throughout my childhood, my parents were Army soldiers. They both served since their teenage years and were deployed to Iraq when I was a newborn, leaving me behind in America for over a year. So, whenever they told me their Army days were over, I was ecstatic! As a child, all I knew was that I would be able to see them without worrying about whether they would disappear for months. However, regardless of the happiness, even as a kid, I always wondered: What are they going to do now? My mom figured it out pretty quickly. She took a job as an assistant at a construction company and built her career as an essential figure. My dad, however, was a wild card. He was never satisfied with where he was working and always talked about wanting more for himself. For two years, he worked in places where he was unhappy to care for his family, all the while working diligently to earn his Doctorate. I was confused. What was he working so hard to get? Why didn’t he pick a job and go along with it? What’s his plan? Little did I know the reason he was working so hard and hated where he was was simple: he wanted to work for himself and do everything the right way, both for himself and his family. For over two years, I watched my dad work a job he hated while pushing through incredible challenges for his education. You would think the thing that would motivate me is watching him survive the struggles, yet what motivated me to earn my own Doctorate was watching him write his dissertation, not from a desk like other people in his position, but from my brother’s Mickey Mouse chair on the side of a bed. Knowing and seeing how hard my dad worked, how much he fought to earn his degree, and ultimately how he finished his Doctorate, allowing him to begin building his own company, was quite frankly incredible to see. Not only that, but he earned each one of his degrees with a 4.0 GPA, which, naturally, made me want to follow in his footsteps. So, starting from the very beginning of my high school career, I have decided I am going to finish every year of schooling with straight A’s, just like my dad. If he can do that while in combat and working in jobs he did not enjoy, I can do that while living the life both he and my mom fought for me to have. I want to work the same way as my dad in my education and make my parents as proud of me as I am of their dedication, sacrifices, and courage in the face of literal war and their own personal wars. My dad’s journey with his education is one I want to follow, step by step. So, I will continue to achieve my personal goals and make my parents proud through pursuing my Doctorate just like my dad did.

I never thought I could fall for a girl, especially when that girl is my best friend. During high school, I was having a hard time identifying my sexuality. By that point in my life, I knew I was curious about women, but had no clue whether I wanted to date them, until I met her. Sophomore year, I met the girl who would become my best friend and first heartbreak all in one; the girl who would help me discover who I am through the best and worst ways possible. After meeting through a mutual friend, we became very close, very quickly. We told each other everything, whether it was stress about school, opinions on people, our home lives, or most importantly, our identities. She knew about my struggles and did the best she could to help me since she went through the same self-questioning I did; the only difference is she knew who she was while I was still trying to figure it out. At some point, after a lot of questions and mental breakdowns, I finally figured it out: I am attracted to both men and women. How did I figure it out, you may ask? Well, I was attracted to her. I constantly wanted to be around her, see her, talk to her, even hug her or hold her hand. At first, I thought it was just because we were really close friends, which led me to make excuses to myself. “I am a touchy person, so that’s all it is, right?” “I want to see all my friends, not just her.” “Just because I like women, that doesn’t mean I like her, right?” “We’re friends; friends are not supposed to like each other.” No matter what I told myself, I couldn’t deny the feelings I had for her. I wanted to be with the girl who helped me discover who I am. I started flirting with her. Lo and behold, she started flirting back, and eventually, we became a little more than friends. However, after some time, she grew distant, and before I knew it, we had cut things off and were no longer speaking to each other. It was heartbreaking. I missed her so much: I wanted the girl who helped me find myself. I wanted the girl who wanted nothing but the best for me and pushed me to be better. I wanted the girl who stayed with me through the tears and breakdowns. I wanted the girl I fell for, but more than anything, I wanted my best friend back. We didn’t talk to each other for almost six months. While I moved on from our romantic relationship, I desperately wanted our friendship, but I was too stubborn and petty to take the time to talk to her again. However, with time and a little bit of patience, we started talking to one another. We rebuilt our friendship, apologized for everything that happened between us, and grew even closer than we ever were. This complicated situation was horrible to experience, to say the least, but I do not regret it. I discovered not just who I am as a person and how I identify, but also found my best friend along the way. While I did lose her for some time, our “break” let us see just how much we loved and cared for each other, no matter what kind of relationship we had. There is absolutely nothing I would change about us, and I am so grateful to have her by my side every day.

Having an idea you thought of, created, and implemented is something to be incredibly proud of. However, in the same breath, having that idea you took the time to nurture, stolen by someone who did not even bother to participate in what you created, is frustrating and, more than anything, heartbreaking; heartbreak I am all too familiar with. During my senior year, I worked incredibly hard to create a beautiful college resume while ensuring I had an enjoyable final high school year. Besides, senior year is supposed to be your final statement in a place where you became who you are, isn’t it? So, one of the many clubs and classes I signed up for was the Yearbook Team. I found out that I would be able to get credits to fulfill my elective hours, all while also having my hands on the yearbook that would depict my senior year. How could I not join it? As the year went on and as I worked hard to meet page deadlines, keep everything organized, and bring new ideas to each page, I eventually became one of three “Executive Yearbook Members”, essentially meaning I became one of three student leaders in the club, alongside my best friend, who was also trying to achieve the same goals I was as a senior. I was so proud of where I was, and I know I got there because of my dedication to the yearbook, my communication with other students, and, above all, the creative ideas I put into each page I worked on. However, the high of becoming the team leader was quickly met with the low: near the middle of the year, the other, younger members stopped working on their pages and started pushing deadlines until the very last moment. My co-leaders and I did our best to help others complete their page and show their ideas the same way we showed ours. We even tried to motivate them by promising a pizza party each time a deadline was met! However, no matter what tactics we pulled and what promises we made, my co-leaders and I could not change their motivation, so we did the only thing we could: we got the work done ourselves. I worked specifically on a set of pages, the high school winter formal, which we called Snowball. I took some time to sketch some ideas and ultimately created a page depicting a winter background with snowballs showing pictures of the dance and a snowflake in the middle. I came into class the next day, proud of my work and knowing that I stopped the team from losing a pizza party, when I walked into a group of the other members, proudly claiming THEY were the ones who did the page. Not me, them. I was incredibly upset, disappointed, and most of all, hurt that I tried to help them create the page, ended up doing it for them, and they claimed the work I did. However, even though I knew they were lying and taking ownership of my ideas, I decided not to expose them. While everything in me wanted to step up, yell at the people claiming my ideas, and ensure everyone knew I was the one who did the work, I realized something: being a leader is not about being right, but instead, creating an environment where the team can efficiently work together to accomplish our goal. At the moment, it was awful to give up something I worked so hard on, but something positive came from my reaction to the situation. The people who claimed my idea began using it as inspiration to create new pages. They started to work on the assignments they were given and never even came close to missing another deadline for the rest of the yearbook. The team as a whole improved and began to take pride in their pages, along with the work they put into each one. I was truly proud of them, and in that moment, I realized that allowing the other members to take my idea, while hurtful and incredibly uncalled for, was the best thing to do. Their creative ideas were flourishing, and the result of everybody’s work was not only beautiful, but has become the new inspiration for the next yearbook team to use. From that experience, my attitude towards those I work with has changed. While I am more cautious about who has access to my ideas and who can take advantage of my work, I am also aware that allowing others to use my ideas as motivation for themselves is only a temporary inconvenience that brings permanent progress. I do not regret the decisions and actions I took, and honestly, if I encountered another situation just like that, I would act the same way. It was frustrating, knowing that my work was being claimed by someone who took no part in it, but seeing how much it helped the team and made the members want to work was worth the loss. I am content allowing someone else to shine under my spotlight so long as it inspires them to earn one of their own.

Since I started school at the age of four, I have always had questions. Why do I need to be here? What is the end goal of this system? Why do I need to have good grades, and why am I punished for a bad report card? What is the point of being a “great student”? Why do I have to do things and be around people I do not like or care about? I did not have a purpose in life and could not understand how school was supposed to help me find it. There was a point when I wanted to give up on school solely because I believed it was a waste of time. The thought lingered until my sophomore year of high school, when I finally decided to give school a chance in the hopes of finding what I wanted to do in the future. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and that lack of knowledge, on top of having no purpose, caused me to develop anxiety and depression. My family was worried and constantly pushed me to figure out what I wanted to do in life and maintain a 4.0 GPA with straight A's. I constantly questioned them and everything they wanted me to do, which led to chaos and fighting. I was always anxious about whether they were disappointed in me because of school, and suffered negative, self-insulting thoughts because of my anxiety, leading to depression. There came a point when I told myself I was far behind my peers because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, causing my grades to slip drastically. However, everything changed when I walked into my sophomore year history class. I vividly remember going to my history class completely bored, wanting to lie in bed and do nothing but sleep the rest of my day away; luckily for me, my family would never allow me to do that. On that particular day, my teacher was teaching Supreme Court cases involving slavery and how the court decisions impacted America decades after the cases ended. I became fascinated by the decisions the Supreme Court made and how much power they had over how society in America functioned. From there, I went home and became infatuated not only with the Supreme Court but with the entire court system and the criminal justice system. I studied the mechanics of the systems, how they evolved over the years, and, specifically, how lawyers protect their clients from being mistreated by the courts. From there, I wanted to learn more about not just the court system, but the law. How does an actual trial work? What is it like to present a case in front of a judge and a jury? Am I capable of speaking in front of people to protect the life of another? There was only one way to find the answers to my questions: I had to do it. So, after a bit of research and endless questions to my high school teachers, I joined the Mock Trial Team. I went to my first meeting and learned, very quickly, that I not only wanted to join but I also immediately fell in love with the idea of presenting a case to a judge and jury in court. As the school year went on, I became passionate about my team and researched as much as I could to win our case. I loved the feeling of being on a legal team, and more than anything, when I finally had the chance to step in front of real-life lawyers and a judge to present my case for my high school Mock Trial competition, I loved being in court. I finally found my passion and decided what I wanted to do with my life: I wanted to be an attorney. For the next two years of my high school career, I researched colleges that had majors like Criminal Justice, Criminology, and Legal Studies. I was so excited to move forward with my schooling that I even researched what I could do from the age of sixteen to eighteen to heighten my chances of getting into law school. Finally, after years of confusion, a lack of motivation, and pure boredom, I finally found a passion that not only pushed me to do well in school and become the straight-A student I am now, but also completely turned my life from a miserable walk-through to something worth living. I no longer suffer anxiety from being good enough or depression from self-deprecating thoughts. The moment I found the passion that made me want to wake up every morning was the moment my whole perspective of school changed. School is not just a building full of lectures and boring paperwork. It is the place to go to discover who you are, who you want to become, and how you want to create a change in the world. I discovered not just who I am and who I want to be, but how I want to change the world, and that is through ensuring the right decisions are made in court.

Humanity is capable of immense happiness, love, and justice. However, it is also capable of corruption, discrimination, and silencing the wronged. No matter what life challenges one faces, no one deserves to become a victim or an outcast because of who they are. Throughout my childhood, I developed an interest in mystery and psychological stories. Books like "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman represent the mental challenges women historically face, while "This is Where it Ends" by Marieke Nijkamp showcases the trauma students endure from school shootings. However, a book that left an impression on me was "The Housemaid" by Frieda McFadden. In the book, the protagonist, Millie, works for wealthy families where wives are abused by their husbands. Rather than seeking legal justice, these women hired Millie, a convicted killer, for revenge. While some real-life situations do not end in death, many women, regardless of status, avoid the legal system out of fear of losing everything. This book opened my eyes to the reality of the limited voice many women feel they have in the courts and ultimately, in their lives. For this reason, I want to defend those who are afraid and guarantee they have a say in their lives. Reading has not just opened my eyes to the reality of certain experiences, but also to my own. For years, like the characters I encountered, I struggled with anxiety, depression, and overwhelming pressure, all of which left me in a vulnerable mental state. I never felt I had something or someone to escape to at the time, leading me to seek out ways to cope. While I have since found healthy ways to improve my mental well-being, there was a point when I considered turning to alcohol. Fortunately, I made different, safe decisions that guided me to where I am today. Witnessing others suffer the same way I did strengthens my will to make a difference. I not only want to continue making smart decisions for myself, but also use the law to prevent others from experiencing the same outcomes. Too often, addicts are shunned by society. I want to give them a voice in the courtroom and bring them the support they need. Through what I have witnessed, read in literature, and experienced as a black woman, I developed one goal: to give a voice to the ignored. Throughout history, many communities faced discrimination. Women could not vote until 1920 and were denied basic rights, such as owning property. Black people faced segregation, violence, and racism, issues still prominent today, including on my own college campus. Because of the history my communities and many others have faced, I want to stop the cycle. I want to use the law to empower those who were deprived of justice and stop future generations from witnessing the pure hatred society can have. I firmly believe every person deserves to be heard, and I have made it my life’s mission to stand behind that truth. To improve the justice system, I understand I must educate myself legally and socially. Since high school, I have dedicated myself to serving my community, whether by feeding homeless individuals or cleaning a cafeteria. I aspire to establish an organization supporting those in need, including women in abusive relationships, those who have turned to addiction, and homeless people. With legal advocacy and community outreach, I aim to create change inside and outside the courtroom, ensuring every individual has the support they deserve and a voice that is heard. I will ensure the quietest whisper is as loud as the judge’s gavel.

Surrounding yourself with people who inspire you to be dedicated is essential for success. After learning about Kalia’s life story, it is clear she inspired others, including me. I believe we would have shared a meaningful friendship, and it would have been an honor to call her my friend. Her resilience, dedication, and commitment to serving others are qualities that I strive to live by. As a young African American woman, I am committed to continuing Kalia’s legacy by excelling in my track career, gaining the education to succeed in my passion, and using that knowledge to help others through their legal struggles while making a lasting impact. Like Kalia, I share a love for track, a sport I recently transitioned to after years of dedication to basketball. Although basketball was my main focus since elementary school, I consistently trained for track, a commitment I am proud to share with Kalia. In my first season last year, I set a goal to run a personal record in any event I ran. At times, I felt frustrated when I fell short, but I had teammates just like Kalia who would cheer me up and encourage me. Having people like Kalia by my side inspired me not just to pursue my track career but to continue my education and prepare for my future. For as long as I can remember, I have had a strong passion for the law, especially when everyone has proper representation and justice is served. So, to improve my knowledge, I joined my high school’s Mock Trial Team, where I worked my way up to captain and lead attorney. I dedicated myself to researching each case we received, earning me the “Best Advocate Award” four times over three years! In addition to my Mock Trial contributions, I enrolled in an Associate’s Degree program during my last two years of high school to get ahead academically. Through resilience and determination (plus a lot of late-night energy!) I earned my Associate’s Degree in Criminal Justice with straight A’s alongside my high school diploma. As I continue my education, I strive to be a protector for people who need someone by their side. The main reason I want to pursue a career that gives others a voice comes from what I witnessed while serving my community. I had the opportunity to volunteer with a homeless service, The Red Door, where I provided food to homeless individuals. While there, I heard heartbreaking stories as to why they were homeless, ranging from abusive relationships, addiction, and even robbery by family. Those stories strengthened my determination to use the justice system to assist others. So, I joined my college’s Black Student Union, which supports homeless individuals and raises money to help struggling black families afford their children’s education. While I am not an executive member like Kalia, I work to secure donations to give every family the schooling their children need. Through these efforts, I am working to be a voice for the ignored and inspire others like me to pursue their passions in life. Kalia’s legacy is one she worked hard to build, and it inspires me to build my own while honoring her work. No matter if I knew her personally, I feel I relate to her resilience, dedication, and commitment to serving those around her. As time goes on, I will continue to pursue success in my athletic career, legal education, and assistance in community involvement. Through this, I hope to continue the mission that Kalia once started and create the same impact she had on everyone she met.

Soldiers are not just machines fighting to protect their country; they are people with lives and families who need them. However, while soldiers physically endure the hardships of military life, their loved ones face a different hardship: the constant fear of whether they will embrace their loved one or bury them. These fears have a profound impact on the children of military families, who need their parents for support and stability. As the child of two Army combat veterans, I have faced the fear of losing both parents, witnessed their sacrifices to protect me and our country, and become who I am through the lessons from their service. When I was born, my life revolved around my parents’ careers. Both were Army soldiers, and when I was only three months old, they were deployed to Iraq, leaving me behind with my grandmother. For six months, I lived without them, until they returned, saving me from losing my parents at the beginning of my life and missing their essential guidance. My mom eventually retired, remaining at home while my dad continued serving and pursued a position for a SWAT team. However, just as he was hired to be a commander for a team, he was hospitalized, causing him to be medically discharged and putting our family in distress. Thankfully, after a few weeks, my dad made a remarkable recovery. Over time, my fears of losing my parents began to fade, allowing me to appreciate the sacrifices they made. As I grew up, my parents shared stories about their time in the Army, which helped me realize the sacrifices they made for me. They worked extra shifts to ensure I could attend private schools throughout my life. At one point, my mom cared for me on her own while my dad was deployed after returning from their previous deployment. Even while getting shot and losing hearing in one ear, my dad made it a priority to call us every night and support us financially. I eventually realized their stories were not just memories, but lessons they instilled in me. As I heard more stories, my parents taught me who to be cautious of, how to analyze behavior, and practical skills like reading a map and physical fitness. My dad, using his training, once taught me to guide us by using “natural markers” on a paper map. He also taught me how to work out effectively without equipment, a skill my parents developed in basic training. In addition, because of what they witnessed in colleagues, they taught me what warning signs in others look like. Having lost friends in combat or to suicide, they prioritized this knowledge so I would not lose people, too. They also introduced me to careers in the Army, like the Judge Advocate General’s Corps (JAG Corps), which sparked my interest in law. The more stories they shared, the more my passion for law and understanding of the world developed. Growing up with military parents, understanding the danger they faced and learning lessons few others will encounter is something I would never change. They have given their lives to this country, and I have never been prouder of two people. Both of them worked hard to ensure I had a comfortable life, and there is nothing I can do to thank them not just for that, but for the passion they have helped me develop. Although their military experience was not my own, it has made me who I am today, and I am grateful for the lives my parents lived to help me become who I am.